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.

Choices We Make

These lies we stitched for each other
will greet us, when the noisy wind drops,
when silence piles up people who bother
and when the ignorant’s intention flops.

These frauds we choose to harvest
are the ones who carve demons into angels
and preach of an approaching tempest
which will shelter their sin coated bangles.

These convicts we put behind the bars
could be the face of guilt, our world knows,
or the audience caught between colliding cars
who’ve surrendered to God and hit their lows.

These deceased sinners we make reports on
shall leave a blot on our society
and storm sober heart with a canon
which could crumble mightiest of the mighty.

These humble people we try to ignore,
will battle the ravages of time,
but remain locked outside the door
by those who savor men drenched in crime.

No Regrets

I’ve seen you turn around
and catch the fading beauty,
of scary love you once found
gasping like a strangled city.

Solitary lovers call out your name,
but wonder if you could stay,
to watch your story gather fame
and become the hero of their play.

You’ve wrapped your soul in mist
to escape things you could change
but who’s to stop a lightening fist
from punching its target out of range.

A lonely island might greet you
or a street flooded with people alike,
your heart begs you to be true
before it decides to drop the mic.

Your choices make your destiny
not the other way round,
regrets might turn your life whiny
and so could that guilty extra pound.

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.