The Good Woman
The Good Woman
She walked among millions, in no way one in a million
Her fair countenance flawed but not dithered
Her mind speaks through her heart’s rhythm
Befallen is she in a dream convinced, its fabrication to redeem
But reality ought not to redeem a dream ever so sweet
The brazen sun leaves her seeing the red spots
Yet every time she gazes at sun enchanted and caught
Never had she been so determined to smile as her skin burnt
She stands under the open sky and warm sun
A soft breeze malevolently touched her cheeks
She wrapped her arms around, with a thought in mind
Solace is fair and just, solace creeps under nerve-filled mirth
Her skin feel stretched she wants to crawl out of her bones
Yet destiny plays, it has something else in stored
When a good woman cries, her tear can leave entire world torn
When a good…
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The Good Woman
The Mausoleum of Thoughts
In the paradigm of life everything is placed in order
The mechanism of which advises you to move forward
Any uncertain delays leaves heart pumping fast
A tear of rage bullies mind and shuns the warning cast
Hapless sit wringing hands waited to be interviewed
Alike disection the conscience probe leaving you to stew
Sitting in front of looking glass, finding faults where they exist not
Each day the Granfather clock ticks,spending in ease precious time
Heard he not from the grapevine, that its soul of sloth
Everyday creating a new possibility trading reality in cost
Closest memory is a vain attempt to dream
Closeted fears floats the boat in irrational stream
Seemingly on every moment thesis is formed
Gradual with maybe’s “And I belong but ..where?” question stalks
Complex webs the neverves forms inside the skin
Speaking a language, stuttering the good deeds and sin
Aftermath, is where the…
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Inspiration
Life is filled with inspiration. Everything around is there to inspire us and our actions, such as motivation from desperation, dedication, depression, disaster , divinity, dreadfulness, disgust, decision made by us or decision made for us by others. Even the every single darn particle around us hold some sought of inspiration. Let say for a scientist a organism under his microscope holds the mystery of universe that s/he want to solve but if s/he shows it to an artistic friend of his/her it may inspire the friend to think that life is beautiful because under the microscope that organism looks beautiful and blooming. So whatever the way you look at things, whatever may attract you to them (their outer beauty or hidden mystery) every single thing we see is an inspiration. And it does not matter if we fall, rise or remain grounded, what matter is how we let our self be inspired from situations. Do we give up the fight or do we relish this feeling that drive and inspire us. Many artist have created paintings, poetry or fine work of literature channeled through their emotion and scientist like Einstein were driven and inspired by what they see that a naked eye of you and I couldn’t see. If they weren’t driven by the need to be inspired and inspired my friend we wouldn’t have Einstein’s Theory of Relativity, Edgar Allan Poe wouldn’t have written The Raven or be macabre of mystery and without them world would have been sane and drab place to live in.
So if your emotion seems to consume you then you should rather be the one to consume it as the muse to your work. As I know it’s not easy to let go but it’s easier to use it, to achieve greatness.
Things I Believe (Life Happens)
For a long time I believed in lots of thing like a silly child. Though given the fact I was naïve and a child, some of it, I think can be forgiven. The things I believed in weren’t great or harmful in any sense. I believed in Santa Claus and thought Christmas was magical time. One word: Foolish. Santa is depicted different in different cultures and wasn’t a fun loving figure until long time and anyways Christmas wasn’t supposed to be celebrated in cold December. Secondly, I believed in miracles even hoped for one until recent times. Two words: utterly foolish. I believed the Almighty is one, a divine figure. Well, I still believe in power of universe so in a way still not totally cynical in that front. God Bless. Last I believed I was evil and need to diverse all my energy to be good obedient child. So, whenever I thought I was being too naughty, I stopped. Whenever I started raising my voice, I stopped. Whenever I was told not to do something, I stopped.
And while through chakra of life I tried to redeem myself but of what? Being human or to act more humane. To be honest I don’t know and I hope will never figure it out. Just one thing is for sure this divine light might be out there but the theory it will guide me through tough times is nothing but a false statement. In life every being is guided themselves, through their actions or reactions and despite the gilded words, reality is a lot different and less poetic. You have to earn or you’ll be beggar. You have to be cunning so not to be connived. You have to learn the balance of grey or you’ll fall.
These past few years have been like a boat ride in sated waters as waves form a rhythm, never to forget the symphony. The view had been good but the company had been really bad. It wasn’t expected to be this… I mean stability is good while routine the absolute best. But evolution happens. Change happens. And so does war happens. No matter how accepting mind is of your habits but at one point it turns on you turning into your worst arch nemesis destroying everything you built.
So where does it all end…Which is the new beginning and will those waves destroy you and the boat or you will finally reach to the shore. Nothing is probable than unexpected and nothing is improbable than stability. Yet I’m sitting in the boat alone in solitude moving further into the water with no definitive answer that I’ll come out unharmed or unhinged. solitary
Indexed this worry for later right now I have one more guilt trip.
Raise me like a daughter
Raise me not as a son
But like a daughter that I am
Pay me with no tribute of freedom
Until you can watch me free like I can
Give me no penny to buy the world
Till I can earn it with my own hands
I’ll take no field or jewels in dowry
Nurture my spirit and mind
So I’m not indebted to a stranger to be kind
Part with me in no pain
I’m no shadow
Be my confidante without prejudice
Don’t ask my secrets to be mellow
My flesh cannot be sold
My virtue shall be mine
Let it not be someone’s pawn
Raise me not as a son
But like a daughter that I am
Let me have zing and sass
Pride me with the way I am born
Not the way you can hide me
In loose shirts and pants
If I have wings encased on my shoulder
Don’t be scared if I fly a bit bolder
I urge you not to ask me to sacrifice
Because my culture asks me to
I am a girl, I’ll be a woman
I will build my principles
Don’t barter on my rights
Raise me like a daughter
Be part of my grand plan
I can smile the way better
The way I am
Story of the Bare Wall
When the guardian of dawn leaves on his chariot
And morning light seeps in to the room
The shadows sidle to the corners
And he sits in the center of the room
Ripped denim jeans all he wore
Five’o clock shadow cast around his mouth
His gaze seem soften but his eyes are hard
Staring intently on the wall
Hidden behind the color of white
Are the photographs from past
He squints as his eyes adjust to light
Blurry images of red and gold
Playing with his mind
He tries to get up but he stumbles down
He sits and stares at the blank wall
Insomniac, disturbed and tenacious
What’s his story I cannot tell
It is a burned page in the book of history
His shoulders shaking he looks up for messiah
He looks up but finds not
The serene tranquility of ignorant past
So he picks up the bottle
And smashes it on the damn wall
Huffing he clears his face of sweat
He walks past towards the door
Towards the sunlight or towards his fall
Leaving a stain on the bare wall
To be twenty-two (22)
T o be 22…young,naïve and dream
To be 22…working out different means
To be 22…a causative scene on play
To be 22…illustrate world in monochrome display
To be 22…live, wild and burn
To be 22….destiny takes an eventful turn
Rose tinted glasses comes off the face
Every ruble of every dream becomes memento for fate
I’m ready to salvage but life doesn’t work that way
Salvation comes in a form so true
When I saw your shadow…Oh! To be 22.
Veil of Tears
In the lap of despair a new theory is formed
Shadows underneath eyes reiterate tears form
Hiding in darkness of irises a sadistic pursuit
The veil of tears is used to shoot the victim
Without trigger being pulled
A magnum in bottle the metaphor for eyes
Shivering hands assures a trembling mind
Not easy to decipher the ease of deceit is quiet
Wet cheeks insures a mocking crime
Body crumbling a flicker to scout
An unholy obsession in the stillness of mouth
A thin line carries a drop down to the lips
A warrior kneel down missing tongue’s addictive bliss
Corrupting the heart, veil of tears completed their task
Vengeance hidden behind silver tongues mask
A journey from eye to chin achieves a lot
Basking in the glory of warriors blood bath
anshulmangal 