Rest

So deep in rest am I today,

And I think it won’t be enough.

I won’t wake up until it’s night,

Or a morning that I so hate.

 

Clever these people are, knowing where they would go,

And will move their bodies in hustle.

Messages will be pinged, appointments be made,

Places will they travel, quite a spectacular show.

 

Love, hatred, riches will be on display,

Their learnt lessons will be applied.

Will they lose or will they win,

Their day will answer all their queries.

 

Stepping out of a gloom and entering another,

It’ll be easy to forget which one was worst.

Juggling a lot each time will be the thing,

Till their days won’t be over.

 

I’ll watch them go, there they will be,

I’ll secure my wants for another life to come.

I’ll go once, a shot in the air,

Never to reach back, never to fear.

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Stay Home

Don’t you move, neither a bit,

It’s hot outside and it’ll hurt you bad.

So dear are you to me, chirping and eating together,

All life, all places, all eyes are you and me.

Pile up the stairs with poison,

On the floor should no concrete be left.

Hide all the blessings presbyter gave you,

Somewhere else should you be resting in peace.

That’s a moving car displaced in space,

Need not you care shall you be stationary.

Stay calm, silent and reverb in the past,

That’s what will drive you from all your misery.

They call you free, close-ended motionless body,

Let them know you think what they don’t.

And let them be mad about what you do,

Because work alone won’t fix what you want to.

Care not you what seasons come,

Hilarious they are, some falling leaves, ice on a mountain.

What careers there are, people to fall for,

Some dreaded corner of the world, some disguised serenity.

I go and you stay home,

Should you obey what these walls tell you to do,

These pathways leading you to bedrooms are heaven’s,

Keep them enchanted and let no complain come.

The Good Thought

It’s a good place to be, a bed,

Cozy, safe, away from the world, closer to heart.

Leaving all the sense people make,

Leave it all on the pillow and blanket.

Pick up a screen and skim through places,

Pristine, supreme, rough or dry.

Oh! Wee-wee what’s she upto?
Another guy and another dress she’s draped in!

Look, hear and believe what they say,

Willing to continue as long are you.

Letting to lead you some pixels, some sound waves,

Coming from a device so dear to you.

Well, here it’s a cakewalk, easy and calm,

Breathing before you die is necessary as it is.

Yet use it for what you please, your every right to be,

All that it is after all what you wanted to be!

Hours go by and the room becomes alive,

Littering some wise words when the silence takes the side.

When did this happen, why would you do,

Does that really mean a world to you?

Not less than a day has elapsed, your mind is hungry,

Tired and relieved at the same time, it needed to dream.

A day or two to get a few more hours,

We’ll begin when there’s another new game lost.

I Wonder

What do you see in my eyes shining and sparkling,

Your hustling lore of fantasy, a myth?

Call me by my name, in your head juggling a piece,

Some lended work of art, splendid place to be.

Pick out a memory making you hurt your back,

And push it closer to me, flowing like an accusation.

Can’t you go ahead with all your fear to a sleep,

Thinking you don’t understand what are you upto?

Standing you are, saying a lot but listening none,

All the world see, it might be something like love.

Your feet held up at work with no movement,

Not coming for me, are you?

I wonder if I be here, where I might be,

Coming for you or just letting you go …

Tik Tok

I’ve seen the clock struck the same hour every day. Saying it’s tickling all round the degrees and coming back and forth.

It creates a magical sound. Something like ‘Tik-Tok” or “Click-click”. It depicts the time is moving. Someone’s taking a birth, someone’s dying. Explain the process of getting closer to the happenings in the world every passing second, you can’t! We’re not supposed to.

So, even if it clocks not moving, time departure is not being depicted, or you’re careless enough to forget about time, time’s still on the move. Tik-Tok, Tik-Tok, can you hear it? No? Maybe you need to.

Tell me, how’s your life. That you can.

Life of a Mindless, person.

I reckon I could call that person a person; the body depict features of a humankind, a broad oval face, two hands, two legs etc. For now let’s call that person “He”.

He too possesses life. He is not on a stretcher with his wrists without pulse. He breaths, he walks, takes a nap, does exercise, goes places, converse with people etc. He seems to sane to be true sometimes. Is he?

Say to him, he’s too naive a person, he’ll smile. Fight with him, he’ll retaliate. Walk with him, he narrate stories. Shut him up, he’ll feel lonely.

You should ask by now, then what’s the problem in him. Why would if you meet him, you’ll definitely say, HE’S MINDLESS? One would be saying generally. Another would be in anger. Another would be in haste. And another out of choice. But none of your corollary would work in a case like this.

You see, there’s a problem. I may request you keep this secret in yourself. “He’s directionless.” This means he has nowhere to go, nobody to meet, and nothing to do. Is he really a human?

.

Colossal

I hear not the whisper, my memory making me wince,
Of those few words, moments long lost in wilderness.

Straight, cloudy, road and sky,

I tear my heaven to know if it’s you.

Your shine, paused with ample happiness,

I fear my eye, fate if I come see you.

 

I paint back from past, things, chats,

New like a pinch of fairy on my cheeks.

I fly out of my mind, towards you,

Off where you begin, the world ends.

 

I hear not the whisper, my memory making me wince,

Of those few words, moments long lost in wilderness.

I wish not to bring it back, but bear fruit for today,

Whose seeds time sown years before this today.

 

I’m now out in open, dark land,

Easy it seems, looking at sunlight, you.

Overfilling my pain, your happiness,

Your hopping body and motionless time.

 

Seeing you if I can make it possible,

I’ll get wind of this crawler, me.

I lift my spirits not in pray, but in convention,

I’ll look for me and then I look for you.