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…

Creations…

Those hands on that rough surface

Feeling its colours and tasting it

They had a relation unnamed told

Untold

They talked to each other, stories never

Shared

Like cinema, skins met and rustled

Stories discovered

Of old…

But it’s a prairie I thought, just

Some furniture.

But now those hands don’t rustle

It seems I am scared,

Of loyalty of those furniture.

So many imagined, staring me at each corner

Lowered the eyes and walked around.

It’s painful to see so loyal living, imagined, real

So many furniture…