Deja Vu

a multiverse existence,
where realities slip through
the hourglasses of time,

memory is a sweet drizzle,
originating from the clouds of conscience,

an atmosphere made of nostalgia,
and we are the floating planet.

the galaxies are unknown and untouched,
we bloom and wither in this cataclysm of life

but I recollect all this,
from a beautiful dream with eyes open,

so was it a deja vu?
or my hands just slipped of this typewriter.

Eclipse

wet-grass-in-the-morning-light-wallpaper-28387

Time lapse of
sublimation of melodies,
blurred caffeinated visions,
the smell of breeze,
with a tinge of petrichor,
cold wet grass,
the bare feet,
an impulse strikes the heart,
asynchronously,
capillaries dosed
with sugary love,
eyelids popping,
drooling,
turning like red sprinkles
of kesar,
in a cold icy lake,

this never-ending dream,
defeats an unpredictable life,
or maybe we are dreaming only,
unable to see the tombstone
of reality,

waiting to wake up,
away from the monotony,
from barren heartless lands,
to ourselves,
to create,
a life destined to
eclipse these dreams.

A Fisherman’s Dream

beach

a deep abyss awaits,
with hues of blue and red above,
as the horizon devours the sun,
amidst the salt and sand,

a fisherman
melts into the stupor,
of this serenity toxified,
by smell of the exuberant waves

while the red sun,
slits the blue skies throat,
the fisherman dreams of drowning,
of kissing the waiting abyss,

of floating lifelessly,
in the ocean full of life,
he dreams to return to his friend,
to his father, to his deities,

just to be reborn again,
as a wave,
as a kraken,
as a breeze,
that never dies.

The Lost Smell

an amicable smell
from the dried grasses
after the evening drizzle
and the turmeric laden idols,
that fuses into memories,
like reopening dust laden book,
in the house that greets waves
with eyes closed and an absence
of discord

even souls here burn
and wash away like a dried
incense stick on voyage
to nowhere and everywhere

the cows ring bells
in harmony and unison
there are no beds
but the dogs and humans
sleep alike
in comforts of a ground
that caresses unequivocally
in life and eternal death.

the smell has gone now
now concrete, glasses and woods
stink of success and fervor,
something terrible happened
really terrible.

Wings

Romania to Mesopotamia,
through dusted lanes of Egypt,
to wet South American forests,
the shivering spines in Alps,
and eyes watching fireworks
on the lifeless new years,
in countless cities,

our wings were tied,
and sacrificed
in years to come,
on altars of reality and despair,
the pyromancy of ego,
burned them to beautiful ashes,
we transcended dreams,
our souls kissed the promised dreams,
left many untouched,
for existence with reverence,
to survive a reality.

now that very one dream
hides behind mirrors
and stars,
shivers under warmth of blankets,
sips finest whiskey,passing out in blur
it has changed us,
for better or worst,
sadly we can never judge,
ever.

Incensed Nightmares

drops are torturing my patience,
slowly traversing the spine,

In a frozen lake,
incensed with the dead past,
hymns and chants,
the mist and howls of winds,
kiss and dispose me,
a flesh impure for offering,
I believe

I lie on the ice naked with you,
seeking the last ounce of warmth,
through your curves,
I traced every inch,
in the dying moonlight,
till you slithered my neck,
and kiss me one last time,

with fear in my eyes,
an ocean of ecstacy in my heart,
and a smell of incense hemorrhaging my brain,
I sleep for eternity.

Requiem

In the state of remorse,
the howls shatter
glasses of nightly silences,
the white floating sphere
conjures the dead,
the living and
all things existing
in between,

near the window,
my breath now sighs my restlessness
and imprints it on the mirrors
of existence,
the dearth of materialism within,
tickles the soul
into a mocking laugh
that echoes in corners of sleeping valley,

maybe that is what,
requiem for a dream is,
and maybe that is why,
the wolves howl in moonlight.