Poems
The Another Morning
Aged leaves resting
in peace on grasses green,
wet with dew that shines,
like young drops of dreams.
Silhouettes found their colours,
as, to brightness
they surrender their light,
wake up friend let’s rewind,
its time
to play it again till the night.
…..
A very simple piece about mornings and our daily life, which is mostly a mere repitition.
…..
Seasons
Too weary of being
who I am
like a rusted mind in
july rain
I know only what I
feel
and I feel only if
its pain
I built castles in
the air
and gave them wings
till this day high
they fly
and when I expected
the least
came she,
knocked my door and
wished me bye
On the crest of many
valleys I rested
When I was far away
from me
seasons came as the
season left
added a chapter
setting me free.
Rain can wash you
down the stream
and rain can
fill you up
It was season I broke
down before
and on season my
hopes build up
It was a race and
I wasn’t fast enough
I fell three years
behind
Of all the things
that July rained on,
my heart I couldn’t
find.
…..
Anxious Partings
Vespers plague my solitary soul,
with seducing distant calls.
Intimidated and awestruck
I sense the tune of mute charm.
Polite breeze fondles,
compassionate of my warped ease,
while battling for toehold I,
forlorn…under the undefined sky
touch the line.
Hue less in the gloaming twilight,
ardent to embrace the sinister sheen
I stretch my arms,
only to touch the line abstracts that,
the world from the other one.
….
I wrote this when I was thirteen. Though my contentment with life was mush higher then, I was naturally inclined towards writing about the subtle mysticism surrounding death. I wrote this and a few others before I realized this might mean I am not taking the life as a teenager should. The result being my drifting away from writing altogether, before I took over again from my latent self recently.
—-
The Martyr Must Survive
When sudden calls
echo in ears
of a thousand marching threats.
And beating drums
with wielding blades
come rumbling at the gates;
Clenching white
don’t raise their arms
(with hopes crushed in fists),
nor pick the shovel
to dig the bed
for their dreams to rest in peace.
Many wars to brave
many lives to win
many lessons still to imbibe,
come glory, defeat
or what the hell may
the martyr must survive.
….
This is supposedly the first written and first composed or at least (attempted composed) song for Inside out. Is virtually rhythm guitarist Boba’s second favorite. I wrote it in 2006.
—-
Demonic Resurrection
Satan at my gunpoint
The Soul has
parted long
Searching pool
of whirlwinds
and Asteroids
crashing down
Mountains flying past
Its raining molten steel,
Its the day of resurrection.
Underworld rebellious
Grove of graves
shudder in vengeance,
Forgotten what is light
Grinning goblins
Mocking Christ
clouding in my brain
he flaps his wings
like clouds and thunder
Its the day of resurrection.
The deads are
on their rise
The sun burned out
and the earth is going cold
feeble don’t survive
All is evil
once again.
Surrender all your lives
its a new dawn
of darkness
none escapes his might
Its the day of resurrection.
…
It was around time I was possessed with black metal and things of that sort. It also happened to be the time when we at Inside out were struggling around with genres. I wrote this to match the power and hatred that a feiry track should have. But sadly no other members were keen on shifting to death metal, the most adamant being our vocalist who happens to be a highly gifted singer and was no way willing to make any unconventional (mis)use of his vocal endoements. This poem never saw the daylight as a song but its appeal remains unaltered anyway.
—-
