allergy…and dark glares

give me more of white

and i’ll show you what is colour of milk

give me more of black

and every night will be coloured

give me more in hands of condradictions

and richness is all, everyone will experience…

….

i don’t claim of knowing

but instincts and contradictions prove to be suffiicient…

…

that is why…

dreaming is never sufficient…

hopefully you and I understand…what i intend.

helpless admiration

yesterday,
i was struggling with words
to define you…
out of my helpless admiration….
but later i gave up…
with a thought
…
…
that you are a piece of fiction
an accident…
even if i want to give it a larger meaning…
bigger words…
…
must only accept you as a co-incidence

can not call you special
or would suffocate…your words
doings, my learning’s and nature
in shiny wrapper of godly existence…

dead man

he speaks loud

and

says nothing

they called him

nobody

and i named him  “noan”

noan is a bearded man

petaled eyes

netted face

exists nowhere

in the sprawl

meets lost people

halted in the travel

missed by all

noan is a record keeper

and speaks in mumblings

his sentences are jumbled

meanings are lost

living in a tent…you see him in dark

when relativity is lost

images are blurred

and middleton prevails

everything looks like trace

symbolic existence

and “noan” is same

he lives where symbols only prevail

….

….

he is a dead man

living on a high ground

do one thing to find him

sleep when you are tired

underneath a tree

and make sure you wake up

when darkness prevails

…

look around and no one is there

be confused and move fast

in any direction as you may

and you will see

fire crackles

yellow radiance

go nearby and there will be

dark silhouette

….

he is a sweet man

he’ll offer you a pungent supper

and then talk to him

since you are lost

tell him all your stories

he’ll listen

and then ask your confusion

about his existence

and yours

….

he’ll speak loud

and will say nothing

you wont realize that

but you’ll some how choose your direction

he wont travel with you

as he knows…its not preferable to travel with a dead man

…

and then one day someone will write a story

and it’ll start with you

slapping a boy coz he plucked your beloved

rose

….

and then the story teller will realize

you still didn’t understood

rose was nothing

if not plucked

as it would have died anyways

boy at least provided it

due momentous love

….

and more “noan”

will be found

who speak loud and say nothing…

as boy was the dead man…

accompanied hope…

whimsical mind

protective gestures

bursting actions

reciprocating response

curls closed

voids now flute with captured

wind chimes

no shared plays…as outside world

seems closed for now

whimsical mind

cutting my actions

closing accounts

washing hands…

deleting past response

now past calls seem fake

or just a momentous pause

like drunk night action

and then realizing all wrong

but still

there is time

to decide…

i am working…and correcting

my lies

living with hope

what if…

truth accompanied my lies…