My House is Not Dead

How much is a home celebrated,
When it is given a life,
As if everything has congregated
To make it sanct, new, and decorated.
Over the years, it loses its glimmer,
Converts to a sojourn, in some other years,
It is too old to habitat for humans.
They pack and leave in search of a new home.
The house slowly dies,
But as a synonym of afterlife,
Its death is leisured by some living,
As they multiply by ripping the dead aside.

I Am Losing and Winning

I sat beside my bed,
waiting to sleep,

Night reaches footsteps

And creeps on my skin.

It sings a lullaby, 

A voice I hear of my mom,

To sleep. Tossing and turning,

Spending tears to realize this 

And learn that. I can sleep,

But I do not want to,

Let this night be the darkest of all.

Sunken breath, anxiety on peak,

Suicidal thoughts and existence in brief. 

Searching for some punishment,

Soul ravaging negativity. Constants gone, 

Highlighted failures and Terrified dignity.

Unwrapping, uncoloring and unrecognizing

The layers which were made of plastic.

A glass wall, traffic on road, 

They are moving but their voices barely heard,

Loud. Loud. Loud. My thoughts. 

Deep. Deep. Deep are those layers.

Unwrapping everything feels like losing,

I am losing my own identity.

Churning nerves, disastrous thoughts,

Stepping back, I find a catapult 

Lying just below my bed.

Horn blares outside,

And I come back to life,

Ready to fall again, Ready to fight.

Slow Beats, stabilized thoughts.

I look outside,

And the glass wall has shattered.

Ikigai: The Reason Of Being

Sitting inside my room,

I see the thunder whoop to my room.

Desperate rainwater gushes down,

From the opened up cracks and crevices,

And I instantly realise that 

I have to go out and fix this,

I need to rush out to fix that.

The rain is not stopping,

And there is an ocean, I Imagine,

And I am afraid of the depth.

As I go towards the crack,

A shell I form of faith, fragile. 

Piercing all bullet proof jackets

The water finds its way

And I drown happily in my own faith.

Silence, can be heard

Time can be felt  

I row towards the floor,

Sinking inside, it feels harmless.

So, whatever little remains inside,

I blurt out with all my power.

I certainly know that these cracks in the wall

Cannot be filled with my flesh,

And my blood is insufficient. But then too,

I am reaching them anyhow.

If your room is also flooded 

And you are finding it too difficult,

I am dropping a rope of hope, for you.

Remember, It is bind to me

And I am headed towards the crack,

Follow the rope, join this imagination,

I am somewhere inside a crevice,

Protecting the wall, alone.

Dimensional Paradox

5 stars on my wrist,

Aligned in a line,

Shines and speaks out loud,

Reminding me of the galaxy lying on the pin's point.

Smaller enough that after losing a person,

We soon meet him in the 4th dimension called time,

Maybe in future or in past.

These stars,

They fade and vanish,

But soon a new star is born.

Reminding me of the circle,

That repeats,

Again on the same dimension.

Just Be!

Tuck your insecurities under the bedsheet

And lie on them naked,

This is nothing but a reminder,

That you are superior than anything.

If you are feeling demotivated or sad,

Just drink an ounce of that nectar

Which you consider holy.

Pretend who you want to be

And let pressure drain your worries away.

I promise, if I get a chance someday,

We will talk.

For now,

Just be.

The Mighty Man!

I want to color all those paintings,

With human eyes which look sad and demotivated,

Because they are not being watched.

A lot was put into those by the painters,

I suppose.

I am no artist,

But I observe.

I want to take everyone to those exhibitions

Who are unhappy and messing with their own notions,

To understand each others as if they are pieces of art

And magic and so much more than they think

Or compare each other.

Because you know,

We are all parts and he the magician,

Who has cut himself in smaller pieces

And distributed it within us.

Moments with Friends!

Whiskey made me high,

And beer chilled,
After taking a shot of Vodka,

I totally got numb.

Although the effects are different,

All combined to one are making my cerebrum stunned.

The terrifying night and I high on booze,

Can I make my own way to my home?

Everything light and fuzzy feelings,

How to go out when I am utmost foolish.

Friends on side,

What to decide?

They will call a Taxi and will drop me home.

What better times,

When friends are beside,

And Alcohol and Uber in front.

Poem: Dear Girls!

Welcome to my party,

We can collaborate.

There is your booze and there, the cigars.

In my kitchen, there is some homecooked food too.

Groove! Groove! Groove! You are allowed.

Talk! Talk! Talk! It is all fine.

Advices will be served, if you want.

Think this home as a book in your hand.

I want to pass a message,

Directly to my girls.

Be like boys in your own girly form,

Learn how to learn

And learn how to unlearn.

Help yourself and vomit out pressures,

And let sand mountains slip your eyes.

Look it is bigger than you see

And better than you ever thought.

Don't leave my home before the feast,

And don't judge my home

Because till now you have only seen the dining hall.

Poem: Checklist

You will feel your mind flooded

And eyes filled with nothingness,

As those heavenly drops will fall upon you.

You will find yourself fully complete

And worthy when you have dusted the list

Of achievements, you have made yourself.

Consider money is your restful sleep

And this nature your owner.

Submerge your ugliness
And you will be beautiful.

Laughter, yes laughter is a therepy

Which you have almost missed,

Which was the only remedy

To your broken soul.

You miss important things often

So stop and see.

Smile often,

Be a reason for other's smile

If you can.

You will see you are happy.

Dear Bully!

I see friends going to parties without me.

An empty classroom, with teachers teaching only me.

Subjects being - The art of being nice

And the techniques to attract friends.

I open my tiffin box to see,

That my mom forgot to pack me, friends.

I see some girls laughing over there.

Some boys standing and making fun.

I see the flashbacks popping,

Right in front of me

As I walk through a dark classroom.

School and learning,

Home and working.

You and bullying.
All relate so easily.

How I thought they were right

And I was wrong.

While sitting at the back door watching flowers,

I learned that I am alone.

The lonely feeling,

The lonely site,

Was engulfing me and I let it.

As I cry, I forget the people laughing.

I close the doors to your voice but open eyes,

To see my passwords to your name,

To remember you all the time.

 And now you see,

I am writing a poem


You see, you have become a warning.

For all those like yourself,

Because you know,

I am now the survivor of an attack.

And I am never going to let anyone become another me.

Create a website or blog at

Up ↑