DAYS AND DAYS

Do you know how petite a fine calendar day can be,

With the odor of bruised silence,

Asking for impossible freedom,

From the pain, better than the alternative,

What makes us special in lines of attack,

Touchy not knowing what else is going to rip us apart,

Lucky if it acknowledges us on its way out,

Each day begetting new disturbing revelations,

Like taxes, constant,

Year after year, breathing so sickly.

IN LOVE WITH YOU ALL THE TIME, BUT JUST LET ME BE ME.

My will gets weak,
The world is too fragile for people to be fictional,
There is too much at stake,
And life is too short to be aboard of that,
You want to say i wasted my heart?
We don't love the people we love because they are perfect,
We love them because they are,
There is no pundit with logical consistency in love,
Generic and lame,
You can pick on me at will,
Do not mythologize me though, for am very ordinary,
Forgo your editorial my dearest,
My colors never seem to grow fainter,
Tragically tangled, for am not secure in my skin,
Let me mature in my own terms,
Can be nauseating, but it would edge tough times for us,
The hardest thing tough, is knowing when to give up,
I watch you power through life, the dame tri-factor,
A sparrow on the roof, pondering high skies,
Appealing and young not only with looks but at heart too,
A delight plays a tune so that my lyrics would current in,
Making me feel like this world was lucky to have me,
And that is okay not to forever and a day, be strapping,
To rise above when the dreadful living checks in,
On the mornings, when you wake up feeling like a letdown,
In the only obsession you have worked hardest in your life,
Not ditching when i go through a rough patch,
Made loving you the correct thing i have done so far in my time,
And i still stand still by you, in love with you all the time,
So make my days, just let me be me.

THE PARAGRAPH OF SILENCE WRITES DEEP

People in pain,

Trailed by silence,
Paragraph their words deep,
Statistical short commas and fullstops,
Certain as calculus,
Simply overwhelmed by fear,
Stand by the belief that the truth is theirs,
The belief that they are indeed the ones at war,
Society measures their brains as deficient,
They detect a new kind of danger, a dirty bomb,
Yet to the silent, the concept of risk is fertile,

Unlike the noisy rain, the silent sweaty summer is subtle,
And society persists, sees no margin to kill silence,
Yet along, they wither wisdom and slaughter sanity,
And then roots the flower of dramatic irony,
Society stops silence from speaking of the stricken storm,
Scared of the permanence of change, while they asked for it,
Denying their own word while they spoke it with poise,
So let silence be, the indigenous tribe,
Like laboring against our own therapy,
Muscle the force of the lips, and not inflict speech with injury,
For silence is golden.

Frienemity

After tears of joy from the sweetness of consolation,
then came my being given the back seat with confirmation,
silence walked hand in hand with the viscous hand of the evil ministry,
close friendship was simply the opening of the school of self-inflicted complexity.