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" Flowers are such magnificent creatures, they must talk to each other when left alone after the shower in a garden bed or in moonlit night "


A love note regarding July rain

All past broken pieces and loose ends
All my lost promises and unsaid pain
I let them sail away with drifted clouds
Hope they will pour you on me like July rain…

Night rain

while the city sleeps. Lonely halogens stand guard to the sprinkling mischievous droplets, even the heavy rain falls under a spell of whisper. I was walking… In the rain, With the rain… Water was flowing in a crisscrossing pattern downhill and rain was softly chirping over the synthetics of my umbrella like telling me a story with endless patience. It was something entirely different from what we conceive as rain in daytime…

Well, I went through an arm surgery…

Today a surgeon cut open my arm
I saw my fine bones caged in diagrams of veins
But I was sad to find out
There was no poetry imprinted in it…

" May you not rest as long as I am living
You said I killed you- haunt me then… "

- Emily Bronte

A waterfall rushing down your whims
A battlefield raging in my dreams…

Today I met a girl with sunshine in the helm of her skirt. Monsoon wind was rustling through the breaking waves of her jet black hair. She was talking about a waterfall that never went dry.
And I could not take my eyes off of the dance of a pale dark mole at the edge of her coffee brown lips as she kept talking. And my heart was in a trapeze swing from the curve of her smile as she bid me a soft good bye!…

My political affair

We talk about Obama care, banned literature and north Korean politics. I had no notion to know about the man who compels his countrymen to follow his hairstyles. But she thought it holds utter significance in history of humanity. And I hoped to be knowledgeable. Honestly, to be able to speak instead of just nodding. So first time in my life I Googled about politics. Google was astonished indeed! She walks fast and calls herself feminist. Clicking of her hills and her military gait remind me of guerrilla warfare. She talks about Mr Guevara and political duel between Cuba and United States. And what’s the reason behind Mujahidin’s rage over India for drone attacks on Gaza. And she informs me how Robert Frost is absolutely misinterpreted in his poems.
And our love is all but covered up in political science.

A miswritten love note

She was as brittle as Sunday afternoon. Broke apart in an amorous sleep.
Were not I brave enough to call her a butterfly?
A peek-a-boo of memories… Smell of her sweat in my fuzzy senses.

Would you know if you were in love
Like your tummy rumbling after a shock of daze
You have not eaten anything. Your eyes are pale and
You spent your last dime to feed children in India. But they are multiplied leech anyway!!…
So why am I still alive this way?

She might have left. But the spirit she has spread in me will keep me amazed all the way…

Where were you…

(Source: handwritinq)

" I carry death in my left pocket. Sometimes I take it out and talk to it: Hello, baby, how you doing? When you coming for me? I’ll be ready. "

- Charles Bukowski

" She’s mad, but she’s magic.
There’s no lie in her fire.
I loved you, like a man loves a woman he never touches,
Only writes to, keeps little photographs of. "

- Charles Bukowski Love is a Dog From Hell

(Source: rusol)


There is music resting in
your bones, rolling melodies
and sonatas through
your veins, and pulsating
daring crescendos
into your mouth.

Every aria you speak of
sends chills up and
down my


The encounter -1

the night was spreading like a heavy dark blanket over the cityscape. town that was brimming with life slowly drowning itself into a dense slumber. every dewdrops on the blades of grass and shimmering haze of fireflies around the dense growths were pulsating in a drowsy vibration that was sweeping up through the empty boulevards, blind allies and lonely coffee shops. as if the place has been shifted to a different dimension, placed in a far away planet that belongs to some random galaxy millions of light years away. in the midst of silenced abundance. quite. peaceful. lonely.

but Riks was restless, pacing under the porch of his parents house. it’s the day and he can’t take refuge to this omnipotent silence like everyone else. his instinct won’t let him. This would be the night he would have to hunt for third time since last fortnight. and he is nervous. Brihan still has not shown up as she was supposed to, and its already about eleven in the night. He started to feel dizzy already couple of times repeatedly, but he can’t hold it out much longer. he tried to think safe, thought the comfort of his couch but he could not dare going back for he was quite certain that if the outburst happen while he was inside, it will pretty much ruin the whole house at the time of separation. he can’t risk it.
slowly he started to feel slightly nauseated. a feeling of anxiety and swirls of fear started to gargle up from his empty stomach. he understood the course has been started. Brihan is still nowhere in sight. he needs to stay calm, but without any shield attending his body at the time of separation, there could be serious chance of losing it forever. the pangs of panic attack started to make him feel sick to his stomach. his limbs were lighter, they were shivering in faster pace. all the hairs in his body were getting straight, severe goose pimples are turning his skin rashy, a chill was running frantically throughout his whole body, he did not know what to do, if he can’t keep calm, the separation might go wrong, and he could drag himself along with his whole town into the harm’s way. he certainly don’t want to turn it that way, no matter how less he cared for the town people, they definitely do not deserve anything that sinister. He started to run