The people never give up their liberties but under some delusion.Speech at County Meeting of Bucks, 1784 It doesn’t rain here, it pours the sky basks in limitless red assembling each night beyond the sound of deafening birds. Every day, a gulp remains in my throat, that you’re not here and I could not take …
Tag Archives: Poetry
A welcome song
Wherever it is that you are/The soft song of your exile/Is echoing in this country. Its loudness resounding/as the chiming bells of grass blades/slicing the rain for your voice. And the man toiling on end/ without no one to pay for/he described his pain like this:The moon eclipsing the sun/a scarring black shadow/that erases your …
Log 2nd April; Tuesday
Log April 2 The idea is to live through this and don’t let it feel like a denial in the end. The idea is to exhaust ourselves and realize that we were never too far or too close to something ideal or recuperative. The idea is to sweep it under the rug and call it …
June 21: A Log
It’s a warm summer evening lightly accompanied by a fading rain; I rather like the sound of rain tapping the tin roofs of our home and the dim light in my room. I have turned on my personal computer, it’s been a while since I used it and its gathered pile of dust is relatively …
Quarantine
My words are waist deep in the struggle to explain your absence; I haven’t come least bit close. I may have, but I’m despondent in the name of wait and patience: I wonder if the offer still stands, a day to Kashmir and back. Your absence grows upon me like a day I am too …
Grief as a Constant
Grief is potential, it is a light headedness in your feet. Ergo, it’s spoiler. It’s a splinter in your finger: it is a craft to have: you should go ahead and sleep in a quiet grave. It’s a constant sorrow that’ll be your alter-ego for the life to come. It does not leave. It just …
Kind Freedom
The roses are coming: decimated place of ruins and a stark path of resilience opens itself through the crashing dusk of this day. A nerve wrecked man looks for an out post, unfortunate; one who has nothing is an animation of accent and color. Your liberty lies in nothingness: you’re only free when you are …
A Habit of Loneliness over Early Hours
We’re all loveless and you’re not insomniac, You’re just used to sleeping late. You’re just sleep deprived and crying under your rugged quilt because of the brightness of your blatant loneliness. Your sleep cycle is terrible. You’re like a window that has on it’s edge a bunch of sunglasses but no sun shining at all, …
After You
After you, comes darkness. Darkness of the night, And a violent darkness of you. After you, it talks in a language I understand but can’t speak, (Or maybe a little.) And I talk in a language it understands but can’t speak. Or won’t. After you, is nothing. After you is quiet and quiet for hundred …