Unavoidable

 for long, you were disciplined, 

you did not indulge in any pleasure, 

it felt good to finally tame your demons, 

for the first time, you felt untouchable, 

the only opinion that mattered was yours, 

but, because God has a sense of humor, 

you were struck, at lightning speed, 

by something unavoidable. 

And, after all the sacrifice, 

you are back to where you began.

The Jailbird

I know, without a doubt, 

Of a prisoner inside of me, 

I am a jailbird, 

Twenty-five to life 

No possibility of parole, 

I still maintain my innocence - it wasn't me 

All I ever did was not consenting to be born

Rolling Back Time

looking back, 

it is amazing how I thought

of the vast opportunities that lay before my eyes, 

I stood atop a mountain and gazed down 

at the beautiful and rolling fields, 

all for me to conquer 

but then life happens, 

I realised that it is unfair

and I never accepted it,

I haven't still. 

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.