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woodfire,flames,crackling


I’ve been writing for ten seasons now
sometime in the five o’clock shadow
to overcome my apathy for survival,
sometime to get out of
my candle waxed dreams
that I have burned at the cross
with mainstream reality,

sometime cross-stitching
my longing
and stringing every vowels
like Christmas light
to write anything worth putting
a meaningful title to

but none of it worked
until I started to let my bones
to get burned
in the mouth of madness
and realized
brightest are the flames
that burns the most

So now I drink my thoughts straight
and smoke out every words that comes
but that doesn’t mean I’m poet
or lover or writer or anything worth calling

may be just a ghostly cyborg
turned into punching bag metaphors
who prefers chaos
between love and peace
for learning how to live in myself

because when as a kid I was asked
what’s the difference between
love and war?
I told them I don’t know the difference

and now I’m almost twenty two
and the only difference
I saw
is that one gives you a medal
for surviving.

Post a Comment Blogger 20

  1. superb...loved your last 2 stanzas :) btw...you are a poet...a good one at that!!

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  2. and u r just twenty two and write like someone far ahead your ahead! Brilliant piece.

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    Replies
    1. and i thought this is one more immature piece of mine .. Thank you so much :)

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  3. Great words. So true, Ankur...

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  4. "one gives you a medal for surviving" How true...:)

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  5. there's a medal for not surviving too...and that one hangs heavier!! brilliant piece!

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    Replies
    1. how true ..you gave me another dimension of thoughts .. Thank you so much :)

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  6. Wow! You are mind blowing with your words! The last two stanzas have left me speechless...

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    Replies
    1. and you with your comments especially when it makes me speechless .. Thank you so much :)

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  7. Lovely words! And yes in both love and war winning is just surviving ...

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  8. Very good one!
    Happy writing for more seasons.

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