I've learned to write poetry after my death
six years back.
They portray emotions, but inconsequential to others.
Of Heaven and Hell, Light and Darkness
Angels and Demons do they sing,
Coming out of the murky mind once clean and weak.
By being the eastern soul I never learned to capture,
Some moonlight inside the incoherent spiritual container.
The follower of demons have stolen the art.
Where is the justice and where is the bliss??
A concrete wall inside my head
Has grown its root deeper and strong.
The world stayed but a new world evolved
Around my frail dreams.
Insanity has plagued the mind evolved from the
primordial force of creation.
And still the butterflies fluttering around, but no net to catch.
I hope to study now and fill my blood
With literature with a thousand fold stronger way.
But the letters still dance unable to make
themselves read.
And I've explained it to my known souls
Bathing naked under the golden sunlight.
But they are busy clapping and chasing
Arcane and grandeur dreams.
I know I can fall in love, and so I did.
But my Angel feels it putrid.
Seems I am a reincarnation of disdain and disgust,
As my Angel tries to escape
From the lovesong I wrote...
Is it that uproarious my Angel??
I simply wanted your love, not your flesh.
To you all I send an invitation into my second world.
Just step in and pass some moments here
And look around,
Surely you will find me here
Sipping some analgesic wine
In a crystalized sugar coated glass.
Notice me with a pair of falcon eyes
And the truth is yours.
See me looking incessantly into my Angel's eyes...
An Angel who is gone by now
Trampling a piece of beating muscle called heart
Under its nimble fair toes..... for eternity !
