Going Back Home

This is the room that I grew up in. This is the room I locked myself up in all throughout my childhood after school. This is the room that I read and read and read about the world, it’s ways, it’s philosophies, it’s people, it’s societies, it’s culture and all of its superficiality during my childhood. This is the room I locked myself in and played metal at it’s loudest. I air-guitared, jumped around up and down my cot at the time all through my evenings after school. I screamed & shouted my heart out whithin this locked room. I practiced my very own art of growling. I practiced my guitar till 3/4 in the morning (because I had to give my best to the band’s that I was playing with throughout those years) after a long days work and commitment to a creative Bachelor’s undergrad course (after which I’d resume my morbid cycle at 5/6 in the morning and get to my college on time). Trust me, three to four hours of sleep on a regular basis will let you accomplish far more towards your personal dreams than on mainstream society’s sleep-clock. Looking back, there was very little sleep/rest within these then-dreary four walls. All that ever was…was a dream. A dream to transcend beyond what I was choiclessly forced to experience and my will and grit to transcend above all of it. This is the room that made me. I believe I am truly happy after the longest string of years. I am finally going back to my home. Finally back to my very own home. Not just some “house”, but my “home”. There is a massive difference between them. I’m finally going back to the place where I was taught – “Intellect above all else is pure true gold”.

The Rising

I had travelled afar,

Slept under many a star

Through mountains, dungeons and caves,

Freeing dozens of tortured slaves

A true harbinger of peace,

Over all I shall have ruled with ease

In many a battle I had slaughtered and maimed,

For my just brutality over hills I am famed

All who would anger and oppose me,

By the tip of my blade would be set free

Such was my repertoire beyond countless days and starry nights,

Famed as a god I was, fabled and mythical were all my fights

But, today in this world of netherworldly rainbowed colours,

My soul paces with unease, twitching with feral fervours

For what I found in this world upon my arriving,

Intense and surreal was the rising

Vacuum Living

Pointless

Futile

Vain

Insane

Fragile

Frail

Sorrow

Prevails

Empty, vacant

Soulless shell

Very much alive

In this deep wicked hell

For Some

For some it comes with perpetual pain
With no sight of hopeful peace or gain

For some it comes with wisdom attained from age
Infinite free smiles before an unmaksed hidden rage

For some it comes with unconditional love
In mute exchanges of the emotional glove

For some it comes with blinding rest and sleep
Of private dreams pandering to the social heap

For some it comes with a six-string bending
Immolated souls in musical notes ascending

For some it comes within illusions of themselves
Narcissistic cries for attention in humanity’s fake encalves

For some it comes naturally
All facets of life faced gladly

For me it comes from my personal secretive yores & folklores
These eyes I’ve been gifted with will always see behind yours

I refuse your excuse

Bird Of Fire

A phoenix birthed from a charred heart
From the skies it flew down to play a part

It tought resilience through its choicest tears
Fanned the flames away off of all your fears

The orange wings spread in distance wide
Embracing the burnt-heart within it’s hyde

A life filled with perpetual neo-negativity
Will once again be cleansed with tenacity

A burning fire within fluctuates between strong and weak
A perseverance keeps resuscitating itself in a life that’s bleak

The Phoenix sheds it’s tears to foster this heart’s raging flame
The rejuvenated soul resumes to take part in your frivolous game

In stillness
In calmness
The heart beats again

The crucible of pain will always forge the strongest soul

The Boy On The Balcony

There always stands a boy on the balcony
The neighborhood frowns upon his nose runny

Averting their superficial fickle gaze away from him
There is no bestowed benevolence upon his sordid hymn

A mind and body they thought to be aligned in spirit and smoke
A perception they drew amongst themselves upon this misfit bloke

Is it a paranoia or is it disdainful belief
That forces this abandoned child to pursue relief?

Awaiting the arrival of his loving spared father
With the absence of his ever ignorant mother

A family that’s divided surely will not stand
All attachments erased, all previous emotions the boy canned

There is but a brother this boy cares for
Even though the child is lost in his own painful hour

In bright colors and hues the boy finds a constant
Fading in and out of his life so very reluctant

Friends amassed through masked smiles and laughs
Breathless the choking boy on the balcony coughs

But still hopeful and optimistic is the boy about his life ahead
To be able to live his days with no strife and no dread

For the rest of his life cared for by an imaginary friend
Abandoned and alone he knows his life will one day end

Multiple drunken stupors
Fuck your shit bloopers

The Single Drink

As I sit alone at dusk and have my first
A black liquid to quench my life’s thirst

I recall an existence filled with nothing but misanthropic void
An incomprehensible scribe to my future husband or bride

Are you now going to get lynched for swinging both ways?
I seem to care eitherway, since existence is a hypocritical haze

Your sexuality has never mattered to my wayward mind for it’s a bore
A formidable intellectual companion is all I have craved for forever more

In a pure relentless pursuit towards a peaceful vision of all my lives
A constant step forward away from all your dripping distrust-laden knives

Dive deep into the first black-red drink of many
A calculative future strategy with dread, uncanny

Behind the first now parched awaits a secondance
Ready to soothe this shoulder of absolute dependence

A welcome calm over the languid flames of my distant detached heart and soul
An Armenian pianist now sings blissfully into the ears of this abandoned black foal

When forever is to be continuous somehow
Eternity is a long time away from until now

As I sit alone late night and down this cure worthy single drink
I teeter and cross the edge of an elusive Niravana’s brink

Tried and pre-tested acceptable methods of being a part
Now prove false under the guidance of your rotten cart

Are you really listening to me my dear loving God
Probably not, you pure imaginary friend of a fraud

I now seek to liberate myself from all your predictable grids
To down this drink and try my best to foresee my life’s skids

As I share bits and pieces from my life’s cup
I keep expecting one of you shits to stand up

Only to be left without any answer
Happiness seems to be life’s cancer

The pursuit of which constantly results in an ever-rain upon your farm
I already know you wish to be set free from all of experience’s harm

Always level with the precious offsprings that you have hurled
Else as misfits they shall wreck havoc upon this superficial world

Await for my shit allegorically misjudged perfect painting – Freely
I now have to leave because I hear the Moonwolf – Seemingly

Weather Report

Pretense

Intense

Today’s weather report

The barricades deport

In Celsius a hundred degrees

A predestined summit varies

Much cloudy they say

Unhidden is still the way

A relentless rain pouring

An unhinged mind soaring

A cool bright light, swaying snowfall

Experiences cause not our downfall

Rivers and oceans, a constant tide

A visual intake, our hearts open wide

Pretense

Intense

Today’s weather report

Inner barricades deport

Old School

A video of me playing random stuff on my guitar from about four years ago. Looking back , I keep wondering why I even went and got a haircut!

Baby Steps

​We existed within our own mind

We would resist when we’d find

Two paths merged and crossed

And one heart was to be tossed

Another life in sight

Two free birds in flight

Envisioning what could have been​

Faltering because of what we’ve seen

A little girl lost and forlorn inside

Unsure of what lies beneath his Hyde

A little boy in silent screams and cries

Unsure of what lies behind her eyes

Another life in sight

Two free birds in flight

Two paths crossed

One heart tossed

Two paths merged and crossed

And one heart was to be tossed

But, another life still lay in sight

Of two birds forever free in flight