Unaltered words

​Eyes look like

Vacant emotion

Of dry tears 

The plea to cry lidded

Beneath thick walls of kohl
Utterances, answers- reduced

To orphan talk in phoney voice 
Unclaimed belief frets loosely 

Within the hold of hypocritic truth 
Movements, motion- maimed 

To mere mechanic ticking of time 

Forced routine and dreary steps 

Fall back into cycles of thoughtlessness
Words are left to decay, meanings remain confined 

Only to dictionaries 
Abbreviations take over deep emotion 

And falsehood prevails on

Faces of men
Expression left to degrade, and reasons 

Are denied a place in the mind 
Repeated discovery of monotony leaves

A smile as a meagre cloak to wear 

….
Understanding finds no existence 

It’s substance replaced with the 

Ego’s denial
Acceptance becomes another myth

-talked of yet never believed in
Demarcation of Time lies in troubled boundaries

-the past, walking into and haunting the present 

-the future lies in it , already predicted 

-And the present thus getting lost in the spiralling trench of time 
Injustice resides in common place 

And Love brings in advocates 

Having conditions and terms to reside

In hearts polluted with dead decay of life
Success is monopoly

And Fate is a game of fortune

-one makes another sow seeds for him

and reaps the result himself

The other funds ways to reap without

having the need to sow

And the one who sows, does reap

but has only thresh to keep 
Peace- a debate in forums, left exclusive for shaven heads, white cloth

And men who abandon the pretense of life

Each flower blooms unnoticed 

Moon wans each night without a glance of awe 

And fresh winds come to screeching halt at the tall concrete of man’s will
Childhood, innocence- captured in pictures

The digital realms of which would suck it in through gates of irony
…..
So many facets fallen, dimensions deframed 

And essences of being- lost forever 
Yet unaltered words from my heart do pour,
-like a ripple through the surface of my soul

Travelling through the mortal expanse of flesh and bone

My scrawls meekly mimicking the sound carried from within-
I write to catch with the speed of my thought

In uncared for rhyme 

And randomness of rhythm 

I write

I write of what ails within me 
Not poetry, nor a piece in prose

Unclassified, yet undaunted 

The words of sounding silences speak
For alas, structured cast was never a way of what God made 

and all we’re yet to seek

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