Camphor Ball

June July August and now September.

Three months and no posts. I have been learning magic for this while. Well anyways this post is about the world and our default learned behaviour that never wants us to know that we are all we need. What is simple always doesn’t become the obvious answer, why ? Because we are the complication. We unnerve everything around us and ourselves as well because simplicity always begets contempt in how easily it’s available, there are no forms to anything but many, limited by our visibility. It is the visibility that manifests itself in our future and present, in what we create recreate or destroy. Everything we see, everyone we meet keeps triggering our defaults and we can’t change the pattern because we either do the same thing or the opposite when we are afraid of old results. How we can resolve this to follow our conviction with simplification of thoughts. In such thoughts I feel like I am absorbing the universe and maybe we all are always doing the same just unaware of it. Cheers to those who understood 👆

Camphor ball

Reduced by whiff of trust lethargy of hope should not take me over
or else
how to see the monotony of vigour?
where facts derive me out from sweat of procrastination and take future out my hands before
I had dwelled deep and dug all the corpses of brain but couldn’t touch the past
as if
I didn’t exist there and memory just absorbed what it found in the transcendence of mind
an lon an anion
kept what it felt in the friction
a negated packet
a hyped paradigm
a dusted love
absorbs me and expends me
I absorb the world in return and expand me per breath
traveling in my own brain

a camphor ball.

a infinite task

I zero one down to
two and then to
three and four..
create infinity.
speechless, with infinite sounds
I utter nobody’s
the basic fundamentals
find and kill rudimentary emotions
so that judging cowards can cry peace
they like each other
and break me free
on the leash.
the river flows of my destiny
going forwards
it takes me back
I seek I keep I repeat
the uncounted unuttered inexistent numbs
count me
and I count it to thee.
then I say four three two one..
it’s fatal to try and
reverse infinity.

Common Single Disease

I kill the cradle
and ancestors of the wild being in me
call me to end an era
of everything
with wilderness humanity will go
without desire the senses
with numbers the age
without sound your name
with death the pain
the dents of history will call for
another life to suffer
I will again rush to offer
another death in another life
another wisdom in another knife
another love in another life
wheel reinvents itself
and history is new
past kills itself
in between the time gasps
present perfect is continuous till
infinity dies again to be renewed.
You are my infinity
will you die early or slow?
rotting or in a blow?
will you kill me before slowing down?
or slow down to kill?
And then when your cradle kills me
my ancestors will call
the numerous me
and the numerous them
we will kill the misery of repeating history
mellow ourselves down
leaves will hustle
we will ignore the infinity in us
and will die in peace
cured in death of
a common single disease.


Because people give up by now,
wiping off the mopped floor, squeaky clean,
marble white,
I reflect.
Painted the windows white, walls red,
no bloody stains here.

Furniture is white,
dining table round and of pine,
this is where I dine,

they say 1 day at a time.

Because people give up by now,
cleaning brownish-blackish gunk on the stove,
over flown, forgotten, I scrub, clean it bright,
I cook,
I surprise.

Because people give up by now,
killing, poisoning, stumping on other roaches.
In corners quietly they repair who pretended to die,
I put my makeup,
got few more lives to live.

A rusty old watch I clean, memories creep,
speak, have you forgotten me, I am low.
This time I don’t pack it back.
I let it hang, in my sight, with a lighter mind,

they say 1 step at a time.

Because people give up by now,
pretending to be cursed,
pretend what you may.
In plain sight, I have let it go.
They are they and I am me.

1 day at a time,
1 step at a time,
1 life at a time.
Because, most people give up by now.

Skip a heartbeat

My heart skips a beat..

Thomp. and everything goes down again

as in the second’s distress to move

forward on the clock it pushes itself back

and I rush to pump it again with all I got

it becomes a matter of minutes to level

the things put to rest

from where hours turned to dust

of days spent in hunger

for the skipped heartbeats

where heartbeats skipped people

by skipping a few hearts.




Dear Friend

My friend,
let me find you again,
in the broken links of your wired past.
we all were sinking in that age of glory,
and it’s ok if all your pieces didn’t last.
it is the 30’s now,
you know what you shouldn’t do,
let me just take back the fears from you,
don’t be whole – preserve yourself,
but let the sceptiscm of those first mistakes pass,
keep the lessons,
but don’t let the punishments last,
let me find you again in the familiarities of our masks,
let me look at you,
via your heart,
past through the troubles of this world,
where you learned to keep faces as an art.

Meme evenings

neural efficacy it dictates

carving replicating transcending 

subatomic space of the peripherals where

it was killed, alive again 

dusted by hands of now a celibate brain

niching into the broken links

of surviving neurons 

to expose hide reside in a scarred alley

trying to invade again 

breaking open the bubbled spaces

you. yet again a meme of everything perfect

I. an uninspired host


I am painting you a picture 

on the canvas of your eyes 

what you see is relative

and depends on your insight

like when night tells dawn

I am too a morning to few life forms

they who can see will change their colours 

those who saw black and white

still how do you rush when you are viscous

and how do you flow when you are rigid

but you will and think about the 

underperformance of everything else 

inside all of us we ourselves dwell. 

this way The mundane project of me

keeps getting more and more pointless

in my own stoic face I am baseless

the vision that I will anyways create

amass project reiterate 

is just a changing proposal of my past

when digged to the core of anything

everything lasts. 
Thought: most changes are selfpreservatory  in nature without our realizing it and even if we do realize that we need the change, we also crave for an acceptance of our negatives or worse we stop caring. How legit is the change then? sometimes us ourselves being unaware of the real depth of it. 

The revered God of odds

This is a call to create me because I don’t exist

and seeing my life I think I may be the one

who walks past the dreams and desires 

skillfully in a bliss remembering the odds on how these existed without the pain

but then I am proved right soon 

leading me to think I created them

but if history of people would talk they would have the same walk

still I am blamed not to live through it with patience

and patience they say some don’t realise they already have it as a character 

while those who don’t are often seen demanding it

I am familiar with this cycle

but I am in the odd

with about everything 

and the slipping society

who will soon think of me 

as a non conformist 

and while they don’t know what they are conforming to

I have to mix in a haste

of being left behind I have to join soon

I see among me other few who are confused the same

and they talk themselves into it each day

this predicament becomes society

and I a social person

and those who live on to carry my burden

and don’t conform

they become my God

of all my odds.

Until the batteries die

Fake respect of fear 

evades into the 

time which runs on clock 


battery dies

of the charge person 

has in life 

after that 

character of memory


and love 

no matter how strong 

loses its will 

in losses

and in fear of loosing

a lost love

and everything familiar

life continues

in that time

that runs on that clock

until the battery dies. 

Moon and its sunlight

In depths of ocean everything reflects

on the sun recieved

while it was summer 

and the haste of sunlight 

when didn’t  fill the floor 

of winter’s ocean 

the moon still stayed in dark 

not knowing that the reflection is giving it away

through what the vacuum brought

of the space 

while water didn’t grasp the velocity

of vacuum to fill spaces

the fish stayed flowing at the bottom

waiting for winter to end

on the other hand 

moon in black vacuum 

couldn’t grasp the kind of warmth it sends.


In the multitude truths

mine was a speck of my story

intertwined with your perspective of it

hindering me to visualise how it actually happened

I end up not being so sure about my own past

while the disaster in my head dances on my failure to claim 

my own pain because I always compare it to yours

while infliction of it – you think is my choice 

but you do it yourself without knowing

that is why good hearts are streaked with confusion

and those with noise are always sure.


what if love was primal 

not this flowery state of mind 

I heard the cats and dogs whisper

they too felt the need to define

but they were soon disinterested in the thought

like their primal fits 

it was short

but a man kept bugging the concept

created content 

published the stress

the first love musters me

makes me mushy weak in my knees

I cripple the senses

fuse the bulbs and 

muse the nulls

in expectations of that first look

into the souls

I keep baring mine

gathering my own flames I wander

island to island

and everything opens up for me to define

the beauty rises 

with the sunsets

where a smile to myself

alone staring at the beds

of anywhere I would go

I can imagine of so many women I know

but I dont

just smiling at myself for that special one 

faith in heart 

I await the one

she enters into my dreams 

through the yellow cab 

wandering alone 

I pause to gasp

how do they behold these moments of truth?

how do they stare pretending not to look?

I am unaware of shame 

and in being lame

I just walk behind her

not looking like a trailing dog

shying seeing changing lanes

I follow her like insane

she pauses


tweaks her head 

30 degree to right

what else is love at first sight?

if the godesses in temples could walk

would they stay

such beauty should belong to one

I would pray

she would not belong

longing for her worshippers

she would be gone

another morning 

I would say other names

some were dedicated to ease my pain

some were looking to make their gains

some were plain ugly 

some were profoundly insane

some were like me 

soul searching their own nemesis name

but the search made me figure this out 

that we all are primal 

in one or other way 

some in our searches

and some in our need to stay.

Old and Content

Don’t ask me for courage

I dropped it in the nutshell of peace

The wolves hunted my bravery

My women was put to leash

The girls who giggled at wake of puberty

Silenced themselves in the hook ups of past

The men who surfaced

Went mad trying to make them last

Hunted were hunters and they did the same

Each relentlessly becoming insane

When there is no path that you can lay

All paths eventually lead astray

Always a flag on horizon 

For which they would ride

People told me to go there to hide

I reached there 

And came back to save my sight 

Blisters of my journey still wake me up in the nights

I smile when Old and Content

Means to have paid all the price.


How do you speak to beauty?

How long you bask in its while?

How long do you bother?

by how it ties through its golden threads of warmth 

it knits me in a cocoon 

where I am left to think that nothing will evolve

the stage will cease to honor the actor 

and the play would never complete

because I won’t let it

in the moments that I gasp

out of you

my own breath belittles me

on syncing with you

there is no butterfly when I it open up

the enchantment always completes itself

when love goes full circle

all works well only when 

I remain enchanted

and think that the cocoon is my life.

Oh Master

Oh master! I look up to you 

not into you

with my love 

It is true

and yet you fail me 

and my surrender

saying its not complete

Oh master! looking into you 

was not wise

it would have let 

to same demise

Oh master! I just wish 

to make you wise

let it be the peripheral love

for a peek inside told me

you, like me, 

are a lot of beautiful and ugly bees 

within your soft beehive

and I don’t want to become that small

to enter 

and grow inside you 

then to break the softness

and let the stings out

to free myself

nor I want you to kill me

because of the pain

it is to accommodate another person

accept please as I said

I look up to you

not into you.

The plague of tough words

I minutely look at a poem

study it word to word 

I dont understand!

tough words

I pick up a dictionary 

and find the words 

relate the meaning and

construct a sentence

I forget what I was reading

and meaning is again gone

I read the line again

I get it now

by this time my grammar has improved

but the flow is gone

and I find the meanings impractical

or rather I found it nonsense

to go into poetry

with the words I didn’t felt

I wonder if great poets loved themselves

Or they just loved to plague poetry like everything else.

How was I wrong?

No you don’t say

That you have been hurt

For hurt is your conception 

Of my actions 

Which you defined

By the conditioning you already had

But my conditioning had a different name 

And hence now you don’t believe my actions 

And I mutter about the insensitivity

Of your extreme sensitiveness

Which sensitizes only your senses

For yourself

Not for me

But you say I was wrong

Tell me how was I wrong?

Then again

Lost in yourself

You would not have an answer.


Inside myself is a place where I live alone

And that is where I go to renew my springs

The oasis is deep and is filled by the mistakes of my past

I bath in them each day, that is how I last

Every day I filter from it the weeds 

Which try to creep back into my deeds

That’s is how I stand apart

I push back my damaged parts.

The Prophecy

the prophecy.png

The prophecy is that you will proclaim your love

sooner or later

before you die

The reality lingers that you will still have to try

So, just give in to the bitch

Or, make a king of that snob

Because in doing both there is but a fine line

Maybe I am that bitch

and you are that snob of mine

My love for you could be a nightmare of yours

Similarly your love for me, doesn’t feel so divine

Little pricey? things 

picture1In the eyes of street dog, peek, look hard into its soul, the dog will talk. The meadows, the stalk, rainbows and broken hearts they all talk

But what about those little things that you daily do and are not able to put into them your heart

Just try to be here, here I mean where you are, look at what you doing, enjoy, don’t make your day so hard

I agree life is not easy when you ignore and behave like just another retard

The Logicians Life

If logic rules 

The luck doesn’t prevail

We dont take chance 

And we fail

How much can we really know

While we plan in summer for fog and snow

Each and every probability can’t be fixed

We sit calculatung

The moments we miss

Or other times we are busy judging

Logic in life of those loving

The time while flows away

Us debating the plans to make it stay

The logic fails only with the end of our life

You can’t be both happy and live logical lives.

Contextual life 

I did nothing for you

Is it contextual?

In our related contexts

Do you then perpetuate variation due to judgemental bias

You should have taken the judgemental bias into consideration

Hence you did nothing

Just laugh that’s life

I took the judgemental bias into consideration

Is that alright

Lets wait for the high tides, and in low tides

Then I dont like the monotony here

Its just my judged bias nothing that you steer

I gasp of those tight clasps

I steer fine

Balancing contexts, biases, monotony and include the degrading pride

I steer, convinced I made all fine

You are self indulged is my new shrine

Too fixated too driven too perfect is a new crime

I just sigh on that decaying life

All the contexts I proved still cannot claim

That which was not love was so plain.

not Me in You

I am not you

but this other person

That I was

That is me

How can then I fill your destiny?

As different and as close

or aloof and connected

I will not be absolute

For absolute are my changes

As you are not bound to be

this person, over years,  you or me.

As mustered the past is

With the future to begin

You count I count 

We recount

All things in a blink

It was not once 

but over time

that you are yours 

and I am mine

To reverse this is insane task

Shredding each other to pieces

Inhuman to ask

Still we do 

In and out 

With love With marriage With sacrifice

Sometimes it help

Other times it kills

Layer by layer 

Deep sadness sets

The soul shrinks 

The heart adjusts

The mind reiterates

Life says 

Dont call me 

Its not death yet.

Sun and Souls

The morning sun rides daily

And asks me shall we start

I pretend to not notice

There is too much darkness in my heart

It shines and tries to make a compromise

I use an umbrella not for shade

But keep my darkness tight

I’d say my soul is too broken for light to be a part of me

It says

My dear its a ever living soul how broken it can really be

He snatches and says 

Dont defend so hard

I give in daily

And daily I start

For a moment I think the last leaf has been turned

My soul clinched to let it be 

In light it burnt to ashes

To set me free

But wonder happens where we start

The body the soul the heart are all but our parts

With the will of the sun the days begin

We live we wither

And soon there are other birds to sing

The souls are but cycles like sun

One comes one goes

And each of them goes through emotions

 But dies with none.

Man at the end of Rainbow

That is where the magic becomes the truth

Where the man at the end of Rainbow finds you

He is in between all those colors

you navigate your life

You are a lover, an ex, or somebody’s wife

He knows what you felt all the while

And he just doesn’t holds you

He holds your heart

You can tell him all the stories from the start

He sits there listning in the awe of your being

He looks at you and you know you are his queen

He gushes the storms and sings to the clouds

He muses the tears 

And claims your fears

He is there at the end of rainbow

Waiting to find you 

In between this life that surrounds you

He looks dapper in all that blue

Holding an alarm clock in his hand

Says “Come on wake up girl!”

Thats a lot to dream through!

Gods Dark Plot

Dont look at me like that

I am not alone

I have a man and a home

I was just born this way

With a burdened soul

And a heart with solitude as a hole

The warmth doesn’t belong to me

And cold doesn’t make me feel right

I dont like love and lust is too tight

I wriggle in all the emotions but exhibit none

I fathom the mysteries and yet create some

So what do I do with this soul

Calm, composed and so old

I burden it with my writing goals

When with people I am the crowd

I am calm but my mind shouts

It doesnt find sense or

It finds it a lot 

We are writers

We are God’s dark plot.

Trying the trials

I keep trying 

And yet I fail

In trying my trials remain

Pushing and gushing 

Life in me

I strike with wonder

The moulds of life

They don’t change

They change me back

I usher to strike them hard

They are rigid

I look retard

I punish the things around me to mold

Everything besides me, they hold

I keep doing myself the harm

The world stays, alas I loose the charm

In my trying the trials remained

I was rigid, I was the one who had caused the pain.


When you live in a town bordering the LOC and have friends who would bring you subsidized grocery from the army canteen you know the lives of soldiers, their wives, their choices and fears. No doubt they are always ready to jump in and defend the country but given a choice they would choose “no war” always. 

I see people cheering political advances on other countries, people cheering the thought of war, the thought of proving their country’s might and then I see the worried wives around me waiting for war to start. Their lives slow down and their families join together to grieve. They are warring in their heads all their life for their husbands, sons and lovers…this poem is to them and to the agony of waiting to loose someone. 

That drenched uniform with

sand water oil mud and blood, 

That pair your size 10 boots

polished and sewed,

That hat of yours

with medal and stars

The paper scribbles unreadable

The time stopped watch of yours

My long lost earring, I have found

And pictures you said that you had lost 

I found them all

With your scattered bones

The spilled blood

In the field that you lay

For hours to the death

I found the case of bullet

near your head

Where you dragged yourself behind that rock

and pulled with hands the legs

There were stains of blood from your breath

where you hid

I found that naked man

With clothes to hide and the soul pulled out

Your heart pounding where the insects murmered

If you would live or die

And where you sat waiting for your death

your last breath

and that poisonous lead

Is everything that your KHAKI reminds.

#all the ways

Where in this way
You see
Here or away
Feel and say
This earth do you feel or
The sky is sealed
Do you see me
Near you
Or Am I far
Do you make a way
To your heart
Do you want
Or you don’t know us
We are here
Are you lost
We can come
Today and always
Come and save you
Will you then
Talk to us
Try to see us
See that it’s same with all
And all of us are same
Or will you be trapped
In your heart
Farther than ever
Don’t shut the door
Do you see
That alone is not safe
Maybe with us is same
Are for a chance
To feel your heart
And in turn
Make you feel ours
For we are all as fragile
A man
Or a woman
Looking for a way
Searching for our smile..