The Gloom

often, when there seems to be no way, 

and as sure as the sun will go down, 

a silent prayer, 'please let it be today' 

but there it remains - the same old frown 

the stomach grumbles with discontent

there hasn't been much to munch, 

each passing hour increases resent 

of the discarded food and free lunch 

 

there is nothing to enjoy - not a movie, 

not that favourite song, not nothing, 

the pangs increase, gravel would taste like gravy 

at least it would be better than nothing 

and then, stuck in a web of gloom

nothing ever comes to your mind 

everything seemed crammed a tiny room

you search, but there is nothing to find

 

The Drifting Laughter

the more your laughter drifts further, 

the more this life becomes a puzzle, 

and in the bustling bubble of happy people, 

the more I am struck by the significance of 

of both your absence and presence

Songs Inside Us

in spaces that the world chokes with its 

bubble, hustle, and needless cheer, 

in the crowds that passes us by, 

in the crowds that make the world vast

desolate, 

in the darkest hours that the sun 

is never willing to be a conspirator, 

we ride the rhythms of our favourite songs

because, in the end, music is all we got

buried deep, 

buried in untouchable place, 

buried in places where no amount of pain can 

reach, 

buried in sacred places inside us.

The Songs That Belong To Us

there are songs that we tend to personalize

as if the artistes sung them just for us, 

they are some sort of cherished possessions, 

and when the come through the speakers, 

they awaken a memory, 

that ferries us to a distant island, 

we rise, we soar, we glide 

through the rhythm, 

and when we get to the island, 

we sit back and soak in the memory, 

right there, at that moment of impeccable solitude, 

nothing matters - not money, not riches 

just the pure bliss of knowing that no one else 

will ever know the purity of a simple song.

Don't Matter

We stood by the precarious edge of adulthood, 

Stole a glance at its ever inviting abyss, 

We counted days, months, years at that day, 

The day we would take a plunge into 

the ever secretive world - the world 

barricaded by adults

Numb

 don't you wish, on some occasions, 

that you would numb to all the voices

that silently scream in your head?

don't you wish you would numb 

the hopelessness that often grip you

on occasions you need extra strength?

 

don't you wish you would numb 

the overwhelming guilt 

that trips you when you make that step, 

the most important step?

 

don't you wish you could numb 

the paralysing fears and worries 

that exist in your head?

 

the chariots that you would ride, 

only need one word: numb

being numb to all the insignificant things 

that bog you down. 

Regrets

 regrets

grate the dreamless nights, 

the cool breeze turn into a 

spellbinding tornado, 

of a thousand 'should-have-dones'

millions should-have-nots, should-have-beens 

should-have-knowns, 

and when the tornado eases, 

you are just an empty shell, 

seeking solace among mortals

puzzled that they are still alive, 

almost against their will.