Glass boxes don't sing lore to the warriors of freedom when the skies fall and the waters rise. But, skies don't fall and waters don't rise in vain; they sob in vile. There are a number of things that may conjure disdain into this world, but no other blade yearns to be struck with thunder …
Hiraeth
Water flows through creeks and crevices of withered mountains when it rains over their pride ridden heads. Heads, as they say, are meant to be held high; necks, as we have seen, break under the curse of ego sometimes. In the end, if you don't step over this grandeur and pay courtesy to love, a …
Cages…
Our history has known cages; Of all kinds and characters. The one with bars of gold And the others with floors of dirt. The ones which held the innocent And the others which freed the ghouls. But not very often, When you walk through the pages Of your own history, You land up Imprisoned. Imprisoned …
i have felt alone.
Often, in life, you spend your lazy Sunday afternoons staring at the ceiling and missing… Someone. Something. Everything. These are the times when you can't help but fall down an abyss of old and dusted picture albums. The pages turn so fast that this show seems like an unending retro movie titled, "All the times …
pause.
Your song is a choir of rushed strokes of black hollow paint on a white anxious canvas dangling free. Free. From a lone nail on a brick wall standing old behind the house of your dreams. You bury the dead behind it. They rise up as demons on starry nights and throw an embrace around …
Burns and Ashes
Black and burnt hearts fall down to ashes when you aim at them with the cupid's arrow. If that doesn't scare you enough against love stories gone rogue, then you may want to grab a glimpse of the poison spat rose pressed in the old and worn pages of a happy love story. Heartbreaks are …
Dear ‘home’
We live in a lost world. We are wanderers, miserable vagabonds! We feed on anger and breathe out fires, then cry at the sight of burnt cities and homeless hearts. We gulp tears and our eyes bleed, then we frown at the sight of spilled gore. We smoke ashes, bathe in swamps, wear mere shreds …
Abyss
Have you ever stared down the demonic depths of a dingy abyss? Or Have you ever felt that sudden urge to resign…when those dark eyes of lucid heights call you? If not… then allow my words, To take you, Through the tranquilizing horror, And the anxiety-ridden silence, Of that moment. That moment when life knocks …
Beauty…
These roads, they have never known peace. "Quiet and calm", no poet dares to gift these words to his lover. Yes...his lover...the fuel to his art... Life. My feet have sores, I walked barefoot for years...but I won't dare to caress them...for...my rendezvous with this pilgrimage hasn't borne any fruit yet. Every lonely night, I …
Lifeless….
I was lying there. Still. Lifeless. Numb....yet breathing. With a body, curled up.... curled up like a fetus, waiting for light to dawn upon her untouched body. But....with a body, cold.... cold as a dead and stale corpse, waiting for the ferocious hungry beasts to take away what death left behind. With eyes, wide and …
From The Quill 