Hello friends ,

It has been quite a while since I wrote, but here goes another effort to cure this damn mental bloc. In the past, whenever I have been faced with this hurdle, I have resorted to poetry as a comfort zone. Now I have decided to step out of that zone and attempt to convey more meaning and substance and volume. Not to say I won't publish any more poetry, just look forward to more engaging and heartfelt topics in various formats - prose, short stories, and random rants.

Rosh

Ignorance

     Ignorance

I FEEL IT, dry throat and heart throbbing

The familiar heat in my head, surging thoughts of

Anything amiss, this warmth of desire

This friendly nurturing fire, intellectual sorts

Of deeper, personal and Higher I go, the quest

Surmounts and dies,

Its effects no less the Lies.

Ignorance is, in part the ability to self-isolate

Into a mental cocoon of one’s own contented solace

In part, it consists safeguarding  an outwardly balance

Sustaining which can lead to extended ignorance.

Warmth eluded, I search for the fire,

I want to feel it again.

1.        ( The truth gets lost in the middle)

It’s a  story of inevitability I want to tell

In theory this epic tends to end, unbelievably well

Yet, I perceive circumstances so tragic

Make the end seem invented, like irrational magic

This kinda colloseum couldn’t be created

If fate hadn’t but waited

For the moment of truth, to make its move

On the poor boy’s noose, or others footloose.

For a crisis of circumstance, even existence itself

Cannot fully explicate such human folly,

Or such an innate hatred within oneself.

Poem for my mother

1.        Dear mamma

Mamma,, sometimes I am in despair, no lies

Yes do I experience an occasional fear

Of loneliness, and universal abandonment

But I hold my head up high,

In reverence and gratitude, and say

During the worst testing times yet,

Your teachings have taught me to shine

The balm from your soul, that

You have imbibed in mine

Takes me unfailingly through the day, and

Guides me like a ray with an unwavering way.

Insomnia

INSOMNIA

The bed bugs are biting,

These love bugs are fighting

While the night writes itself away

Moon shines into the silvery slope

White hope through the bedroom window scope

Ignited the light within. It spoke

O passionate despair, why do you give me sleepless nights ?

You are inevitably invoking the ‘born to fight’ life

As the night writes itself away

Immaculate but overwhelming, certainly feeding the frenzy

The light of hope reached sights of true love

A  token of  my own future wealth and plenty

Lacking the means to share glorious self sufficiency

O passionate despair, why do you give me loveless sights?

A considerable drop  from  a considerable height

No

My mind refuses to heed these soul cries

While the night writes itself away

Again then, hopes and dreams arrive

Aspirations of perfecting life on overdrive

Surge of thrill, glimmer of hope, shiver of pain

Outside-in, the bright moonlight shines through snowy rain

And the night writes itself away

Dreams dreamt, hopes- hoped, love – lost and found again

Seven hours of reflection, a fully conscious aim of the subconscious sane

Some worthy insomniac education, even for my overworked brain

 sorta of synthesis, of timeless realms of infinite loss and gain

sleep arrives as dawn breaks out

the night has written itself away.  

Surround sound

Best read in an intoxicated state of mind.

1.        Close my eyes, ease into the dark,

 I see things on a high level, and spark

There s surely an idea, im feeling it  

How to explain this? , let me try uncovering it.

The high mind soars , it explores,

The causal underpinnings of things,

Otherwise called peripheral and temporary.

In the process, the limits of compulsion and obsession

Are exceeded to point, at which

 im always left wanting, craving and feigning.

Is it the body that’s addicted or the mind?

Surely the mind I say, because such a drug is

Is one more powerful than heroin or even Love,

Its greed.

It’s the nagging need to see whats up

The need to see whats going on, its

Insatiable, the really odd thing though

Is that nothings really up

Except this need that  just came up.

This need I call greed. 

Journey

Friends, here is another poem. Since every meaningful journey in one's life deserves to be remembered with utmost passion, I named this one journey.

1.      JOURNEY

I was wondering how we got here,

But now I don’t seem to care

A journey so swift, so smooth, yet seemingly eternal.

Suddenly something turns infernal,

You said it , the feeling could tear ..

Its not just my mind , I swear.

Do you miss those 4 am talks?

Those 9 am walks?

Or is it too soon? I can’t wait

There’s just too much on my plate

To sit idle and wait for fate.

Poem - Whats in it for me ?

Dear friends,

Unfortunately, I have been m.i.a from the blogging world for the past week, as more urgent pressures have been taking over my life. So again, I have decided to synthesize my views into a poem I wrote quite long ago, but it seems like a concise way to communicate my concurrent struggles.

Enjoy !

1.   WHATS IN IT FOR ME

I ask around and they tell me

To value the fact that I am free

Free from what? I ask dauntingly

All I see, is subliminal slavery

People are like sheep, I constantly profess

They need to be herded, by nothing less

Than a shepherd who brands a whip

On all their lives in a controlling grip

Amidst this oddly surreal dogfight

 Which Im stuck looking at with spite

The only real thing I want to see

Is what s in it for me?