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MENTAL PRISON Cages of thoughts are decorated in the prison of my mind. The souls of my thoughts are the inmates of that prison. Each weaves their own story. Some proudly paint themselves as the villains in the mental portrait of their story, while others try to expose their innocence. These inmates, guilty (read evil) or innocent (read angel), are the ones sitting behind the steering wheel and driving the car of my involuntary or voluntary actions. I am urged by them, driven by them. Sometimes the evil and diabolical ones make me to do even more evil things. I follow them blindly. They take me to the edge of the cliff and reward me with their little push. I free fall, free fall in the abyss of pain and misery. But then, I gather my valour and realise that I am the master of my own self, I am the warden of the prison in which they live and thrive. I call my angel inmates and plead them to take the charge. They come with their open wings and helpful heart. They catch me a
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EYES CLOSED... I can only see when my eyes are closed, This turbulent world and its wretched soul, This orgasmic feeling and its crafted wounds, This impish belief and the cancer it blooms, I had had my eyes open , By the scintillations of her beauty, Produced on the celluloid of my brain, Time passed , moments died and then resurrected in form of memories, I had my eyes open, Suddenly, the lightning of change struck , Forcing to close my eyes in this unforseen luck, Then i realise where i lay, 6 foot long and 4 feet wide,they say, I can see the darkness of truth blanketing my way, Feeling the unexplained, i realised i am lying in my own grave...
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FALSE REALITY.... A boy has just slipped into the realm of his dream. He thinks he is dreaming. His eyes are wide open and are targeted towards the ceiling which has been painted in blood-red by the soothing illumination coming out from the cheap LED bulbs. His bed has embraced him and it does not have any second thoughts of letting him go.  But the boy’s thought does not converge with that of his bed. He tries to get up and sit tall in that blurry world which has been blended with the smoke of dual-natured red light. With some physical efforts he now sits in the position he likes the most. Now, he is staring at the rectangular glass slab which has been supported by his thick engineering books. He needs a fix; the thought generates enthralling impulses among the billion nerves of his body.  He takes out his credit card and puts the holy cocaine on the glass slab, segments the lump in five equally spaced vertical columns and starts inhaling the ‘elixir’ with the help of 10 rupee
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On closing my eyes I slip into the chamber of my past, the bruises crafted on the flesh of my soul become ripe; the love which I once bore in my heart metamorphoses into limitless hate, And all I see is your ersatz yet mesmerizing smile arresting the lord of my conscience, tricking it in an illusion and shackling it with your synthetic love and care. I tried to endeavor the remote depth of your realm till I found out that it was unfathomable. My understanding of you is a clean slate yet I claim that no one can comprehend the maze, in which you lived, better than me. You always tried to put up an enthralling show of your love and care but each time you failed to realize that the applause which you got was from only one person, sitting in the empty theater of your life. But still I was never entertained for you never actually did entertain. All your efforts were flooded with the thorns of unpardonable flaws which used to pierce so deeply and painfully into the flesh of my emotions. A
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I have engineered the skyscraper of my life, which is still under construction, to gently touch the zenith of my dreams. With my eyes closed, I antecede and my conscience, being the pilot of my destiny, land me on the torrid place with scorching heat rays of the sun frying the skin of oxygen breathers, with cracks in the holy earth speaking the story of its infertility, with the scarcity of water hitting to its epitome, with people praying to their lords to show them the silver lining in the impudent and rapacious dark clouds of their adversity. Amidst all these, my pilot navigates my inner soul on one person who has been trying hard to get at least something valuable from the reign of nothingness. The hope inside him is not dead; it’s breathing and with its each breath being exhaled, it is providing air to the smoldering pyre of the “dead hopes” of various individuals; with a subtle ambition of lightening it into a conflagration. But who’s he ?, I ask myself and then I realize, he i
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THE QUEST My fiendish mind weaves a tale, Anguish of time has prevailed, Earth painted with bloodshed, My eyes gaze dead bodies everywhere, Mutilated by the holocaust, Blinded by the storm of demise, Debris of callousness has infested me, Every puny escape is blocked, My soul, praying for the salvation key, Raking the flesh that I once embraced, Fiasco bullets piercing me constantly, A face so bright, ravishing and holy, Evanescent though, I finally see, Trailing the path, trampling the carcasses, Following the obscure, Would I ever succeed? The apocalypse has blanketed everything now, Look! I don’t even bleed, Lord is great, because my hope still breathes, Am I dead? The thought repeats, Yet the heart of my hopes still beats, Now, making me to flood with glee, I see the face again, And the quest of my salvation proceeds……
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THE SILVER LINING.... It was his best of times. The aura had jus transformed, to slip in his favor. Everything he touched became gold and his career figure multiplied, so much so, to chalk out billions of dollars , which kissed his feet, n was everywhere from taking him to deep slumber to giving him a really soothing time in the bathtub, in short, a living exemplar of utter success , was he.. U cannot imagine how life became so beautiful and full of razzmatazz for him, luxury and loyalty, he gained every now n then, and, love!!!!.... How cannot anybody fall in love when he is rich? Women.... a perfect drug, even worse than “the ecstasy" flooded in his life and then, he had a choice to pick one.... she was Lucy.... Lucy and peter Sandler soon got married. Peter could not have been happier, with such haunting n ugly face, he virtually purchased the heartthrob and the priceless inferno of the town ... she was Lucy Peterson.... it is rightly said when u has the money u owe
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