Archive for March, 2016

Twisted Longings

Posted: March 27, 2016 in Poetry

The moment i tasted defeat
I immediately fell in love
To wallow in depression and regret
To close myself to the world

While I marinate in painful tears.

I sought out defeat and let it kiss me
Sought out vain endeavors
Just so that life can break me
It was my euphoria, a twisted Utopia
Knowing I have nothing to live for
After all, even pious angels fall..

Sweet release from immortal constraints

Is there hell or heaven after life?
Why do we even hang on to this strife?
I pray not for the ascetic sweetness of heaven
All I long for is a sweet realese…total oblivion….




Posted: March 26, 2016 in Poetry


Ram yourself into a wall,
Or scream if you can.
Shout at the top of your voice,
Or roll down on the floor in a spasmodic tantrum.
For these are the various expressions
Of what we call frustration…


Lonely Silence

Posted: March 24, 2016 in Poetry

The boisterous silence noisily chimes
Lonely tones, monotonous like a nursery rhyme
“Oh, lost soul thou art so devine!”
But again it hurts like a wound in brine.

My restless soul longs for sweet death,
And my own body for sour rebirth.
Ought we again reincarnate?
Or forever rot in eroding dirt?

The chime goes on; orchestrated by eternal pain.
And the soul wonders of its own future gain.
Will the sun ever shine through this torrential rain?
But the silence switches on to another sad, sweet rhyme.

The Mathematician  ( Life of A)

Posted: March 8, 2016 in Poetry

Adamant Adam the Aboriginal Arrogant 

Sat in his Auspiciously Austere Abode

Set on his Arduous task of Adventurous Addition

Absolutely Adrift in Abysmally obsolete Arithmetic volumes

It is said Adam once had A dame of Adorable Attributes

Whose Absquatulation can be blamed for his Abstemious life

Abruptly enAmored by Abraham Angus the Anglican,

She set sail with him, Adrift on an Adulterous quest to The Albanian coast 

Oh poor Adam, A dame such her was so Abstruse for him

Now he is stuck in A life of unAdulated Absurdism

An Adroit Arithmetic Adept grossly Absorbed in geometrical Airspace

Who knows the subtle Allure of Alliterating Algorithms, oh Adam the Addict? 

David 2016

I read a book about a certain boy 

With a breath of talent, this special boy

He could go places where things weren’t 

This special orphan without any parent 

It’s a wonderful talent don’t you say?

I could go places where pain isn’t 

Leave tears behind just for single day

I could live once like a satisfied peasant.

I read a book again this other day

About this world without me in it

It was full of joy and laughter so gay

It’s a perfect world yet I don’t fit in it

One day, i swear,I’ll write my own book of pain

Fill the pages with torment and eternal rain

Dark clouds, sleepless nights in their luminous clarity 

It’s a world I fit it in, after all….and I’ll call it REALITY.


Midnight Cutter

Posted: March 6, 2016 in Dark Poetry, Poetry

As midnight strikes, high lonesome takes over
The height of pains, an emotional do-over
When the bathroom sink shines squeaky clean,
The razor blade calls as if from a hazy dream.

I cut through skin while the whole world sleeps

The world cut me deep, and so my heart weeps

My wrists bleed clean, a warm crimson blight 

If I die tonight, blame it on the deep razor cut.


The things I believed in were very frail. Very fragile. I didnt know that. I thought they were indestructible. They werent.”

—–The Sunset Limited; Cormac McCarthy.—-


When your mind starts echoing terrible truths (truths that you desperately want to avoid) you do everything to divert your attention. And so you run, with noisy Rock music pounding in your ears to help drown the noise coming from deep within, to drown your own troublesome thoughts. The pace sets itself, proportional to the burdens you carry. And so you pick it up a notch trying hard to outrun your past, your mistakes; you try hard to outrun your own haunts that are killing you, pulling you apart from deep within and shredding the course fabric of you frail sanity. You simply run to avoid going insane.

At this point, jogging becomes more than just a sport. Jogging becomes the only anchor holding you down in the eye of a terrible storm. When everyone from your past has betrayed you, left you reeling in new pangs of anguish, you do your best to remain sane. When your quiet life spins out of control, you hold on to the smallest of straws even if you know that all this charade is a temporary measure.

But how far can one run from himself? In the end, the ghouls and demons always catch up. It’s an inevitable ending. They catch up on you and tear you to shreds without remorse. Maybe it is a better ending than clinging to false hopes while walking the thin blade of near-insanity. ” Lay down your arms, give up the fight,” Greenday sang…

At this moment you stop, giving in to whatever is coming your way. You know “’s time to live and let die, and you can’t get another try. Nothing is ever built to last”…At least you tried your best to run, you did…But finally the road ends at a cliff’s edge or you simply run out of energy or the pain just gets intolerable (“it’s getting dark, too dark to see. feels like I’m knocking on heaven’s door”) . All good things come to end but the bad stuff always pile up until they break you and suffocate you…it’s a fact of life. But the world spins madly on…


Some references to the following songs:
a) 21 Guns by Greenday
b) The World Spins Madly On by The Weepies
c) Knocking on Heaven’s Door by Bob Dylan