The Innocent Sinner

Folks, don’t walk with heavy steps on a marshy land,
drenched in sin of a peculiar type
and get stuck in a moment bilked with emotions.
Such sinners are often assailed by love,
impaired by the occasional glance of affection.

These, are the innocent mistakes of God.

Cloying emotions are the ones’ that repel,
blinding beauty of their muse often distracts
and paves way for destruction of a strong will.
Are you willing to lose it all before experiencing it
or even before knowing that it existed.

Patience, can always make you a wise lover.

Let your heart guide you towards dawn,
from a cage built by your past.
Don’t try sidling out from there like sheep,
unless what you seek is temporary
and your ugly intentions are banal as usual.

Ordinary is less appreciated by the sub-ordinary.

Every attempt has a feeling involved,
and every felling has its importance.
Endings might scare bravest of the sinners
but when they meet the perfect person
all the hardships lose their glory.

Oh lord! set free sinners who wish to love.


The majestic waves crash near my feet
which are hinged to the white sand
barring the foam around to retreat
to a mysterious blue land.
Explored to the core by all and sundry
to dig out soils of hope
amidst waves and predators of apathy
but guarded by the modern dope.

These harbor of God were relieved alone
yet some got exploited by his creation
by ripping off all the flesh on bone
in a hearty-manly fashion.
These floating beauties will sink till infinity
with all the dirty folk residing
they shall be on receiving end of the humility
which daunted the haven for never denying.

Listen to your Angels

Eyes so wild that you can feel the thunder,
Soul so free that you can sense the splendor.
What’s holding him back from unleashing his zeal?
Is it the Gods, who don’t want him to unveil?

An era, starved in caves like the stray,
Pleaded for a leader who wouldn’t fray.
The clan’s ‘Hope’ hid in the shadows of darkness
Anticipating about all the power he could harness.

These manly thoughts injected into his goodwill,
Paved a way that went straight downhill.
He had a charm that glowed like the stars
But was reduced to scum covered with scars.

He often dreamt of an angel during the day
Who would remind him to climb up the stairway,
A path that would reveal him, his might
And propel him to an unassailable height.

His life finally entered the autumn season,
When, all he loved was charged with treason.
The angel he dreamt of started making sense
‘Cause all his emotions had turned intense.

Blazing with fire he rode the chariot of wrath,
Condemned to hell were those who obstructed his path.
He disdained all, whose actions were abysmal
As their glorious fates had now turned fatal.

Twisted Pleasures

The world is drowning in your love
but isn’t it too shallow.
You’ve strolled along with generations
and turned your ugly face mellow.

Tears are turning into sweet sweat
by making the mundane, repetitive.
Every dream ever dreamt is flaky now
‘cause the thinkers are turning passive.

Millennials are the peacocks of 21st century
who fancy being hit on their head.
Fading limbs have trapped them in a mystery land
and chained their souls to a floating bed.

Every wrecked soul on Earth
had once been a sober kid.
All you did is, claim his innocence
and sign him away to the lowest bid.

Stuck in Time

“It’s never wise to sacrifice ourselves for the sake of mere flashbacks that can be relived. The wrath of time spares none but those who flow with it.”

I’ve lived with the future and the past
but never with my present,
fetched for moments I thought would last,
as they were well spent.

I’ve gone miles adrift of my conscience
by seeing memories slip away,
they try floating with burly defiance
and not drown in the stack of hay.

I was told to hold on to words
spoken in the finest hours of many lives,
yet I scattered them like shepherds
and poked their existence with rusted knives.

I am not a slave to the time God
or a souvenir for the realm of memories.
I’m just a fool at sea without a balancing rod,
battling the infinite boundaries.


She’s crying for shelter from city lights,
her way was lost chasing the kites.
She doesn’t deserve this mellow harshness,
her muted soul needs some love to harness.
She’s shying away from the forbidden innocence,
her eyes beam with, while seeking guidance.

O! dear, doesn’t she remember,
she’s the Daughter of the Nature.

She had a smile that spread like wild fire,
melting hearts of beasts and gruesome liars.
She was a fawn in disguise, innocent and sweet,
knocking down obstacles with her mushy feet.
She also had her majestic, sparkling eyes,
trapping time in a bottle and her crooked lies.

Why doesn’t she remember ?
She’s the Daughter of the Nature.

She still hides that girl in her conscience,
waiting for herself to crawl out of defiance.
She walks with the shadows of her past
thinking, her old-self acts like a mast.
She knows, culprit are her own people
but still lets them treat herself like a lost gamble.

One day she will surely remember,
she’s the Daughter of the Nature.


Dumb Streets stroll along with brains of blitz
to an evening ritual of bathing with blood
where young smiles melt away and tears dry out,
guilty die and so do the ones who dare to doubt,
audience calls it the crowned fool’s supper
but our fool names it ‘Blooming of the Juniper’.

Dumb Streets poke their pride with kinky knives,
scoop their brains out for the queen of beehives
and surrender their soul for a single penny
which leads them to a war-zone surrounded by jinni.
The poor souls mustn’t retreat to the fool,
who’d treat them as his supper or a war-tool.

Dumb Streets fed-up, riot with sullen spirits,
they burn bridges and kill the fool’s puppets.
The supper gets heavy as the days go by,
our fool feasts on rioters who’ve sworn to die.
Soon the puppets disappear into thin air
and leave the palace for rioters to spare.

Dumb streets have our fool as their supper,
sink their shelters with wine and clutter,
but fail to notice uprising of another fool
who’d played leader of fish in the pool.
Shower mercy O! wise Fool upon your streets,
preach the dumb, who wonder what he eats.

Theory of Destiny

“The things Almighty seek are the only ones he adores, rest all is insignificant to him. Never let God think of you to be the insignificant, as none can withstand his wrath.”

I have always wondered how vividly distinct is the journey of every human being yet the starting and destination is same for all. What a commoner seeks is also what the noble and rich keep searching for all their lives, the only difference is the sophisticated approach the later uses simply due to presence of surplus resources.

Observing closely at the patterns surrounding me and my love for trains made me develop a theory whose sole foundation is destiny. It goes as follows –
Assume yourself to be sitting in a train that is supposed to move from Point ‘A’ to Point ‘B’ without stopping anywhere in between. Irrespective of the coach you sit in, i.e either you’re at the front or at the back, you are sure to reach the destination. Just in case you forget to deboard at the right time, your journey resets itself and you travel again. Reaching the destination is inevitable unless you decide to jump off the train into a sea of blankness and want to keep drowning indefinitely until you turn to ‘Nothing’. Journey time isn’t for you to decide, it depends on the creator of the train.

In an attempt to decode the theory stated above I shall try to explain it line by line. The ‘Train’ refers to the course of a person’s life. Point ‘A’ represents onset of an ambition in an individual’s life and ‘B’ indicates to the point in life when the person accomplishes it. Sitting at the front or rear coaches refers to the advantages or disadvantages a person is born with or acquires them after a period of time but they strictly do not interfere with a person’s ambition to achieve the goal. Just in case the individual perishes while meeting his destiny, rebirth is awarded to the human until the destiny is met with. If the individual decides to commit suicide, there is no way rebirth is given to such meek souls and hence they wander hopelessly bubbling with sorrow and remorse for their wrong-doings. The last line is pretty much self explanatory and explains why every good thing takes it’s time to happen.

The above paragraph sums up my theory about life and destiny. I hope it can change our perception about life goals, importance of God and also condemn methods that are used by people to over-rule their own destiny.