Sunday, June 29, 2014

The Journey

The sky was a battlefield of colours and your favourite is not what I seek,
I shall count to ten but you can hide in fifteen, 
You let a zillion pearls form on your face in the drizzling night when I drove our hearts over the water body,
I was circling around while you used one cross too many,
I dont want to find you yet, the truth is not what I seek,
so, I shall count to ten but you can hide in fifteen..




Saturday, May 17, 2014

Words


Break me with your words into a million alphabetic heart beats,
And dont take your words back because i sleep on them now,
Some of them are uncomfortable but most of them have knitting needles on them that works fine as pillows as they help me scrape the senses out of my brains,
Chop me with your words into pieces that would resemble memories and ill join them back as this puzzle does not have an age limit on its box,
And the final picture would always look the same, no matter how much I want it to be different,
Punch me with your words into a pulp and we both know how we love fiction,
While our reality looks like pens and lighters,it always would get lost,
Love me with your words till I hope this actually happens,
Kiss me with your words till your lips forgot the latter,
Help your words to kill themselves, for like unprepared multiple choice answers,most of them are marked true,
Help me to forget your words before your words help me to forget you...


-
Shubit

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

A Clockwork Nothing

Clockwork-like lives, we all are cuckoo in our own special ways,
I ought to limit my characters to 140 to be trending to be trendy,
It makes me sleep tight when my likes feed the hungry,
With laws governing love,they shall trap our thoughts under more sections someday,
So,I told them my heart's of no use now,they made me believe I have OLX, I should just Bech-de,
Like a scrabble game without a board,our words are pointless,
We have conversations that candies crush,we're just a smart card in the metro rush,
Clockwork-like lives, we're all cuckoo in our own special ways,
We are the cigarettes and coffee between 9 to 5,
We are the sighs between bitten nails and being alive,
The minister's chair is like a seat in the car in that movie,Fear and loathing,
They kill our Hobbes to create new ones, just to say Calvins are boring,
Like abandoned airports,only our farewells are walking through security checks,
We have dream like horses,we search for people who would place their bets,
So lets create stories without bookmarks,
Lets create our own happy hours!
Clockwork-like lives, we're all cuckoo in our own special ways.

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Oh well.....

Love,while the cards are still not shuffled and you're winning probabilities,
Expect,like half-shut doors and silent phones at 3AM,
Leave,while the night is still dark and the lonely bulb flickers in your mansion,
where the blankets are cold with words, where memories are held for ransom
You sit beneath that bulb rocking that chair and few other things,
with open arms and the butterfly effect in perfect sync,
And then love, while sketching an oasis over a mirage,
Expect, while hearts still resemble Rock-Paper-Scissors,
Leave, while insanity still figures out dreams on a collage.

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Of madness...of love....

Madness is not a bad thing. Love is madness.
It cannot be justified wrong or right but can only be felt by one.
It's like witnessing a wonder of the world, you cannot criticize it for what it is or even rather for what it is not. You can only be overwhelmed by the fact that you're a part of it for now.
And then it's almost as if you want to get off a roller coaster, you just wont spoil the experience for yourself but for others who were a part of it as well.
Love ought to be madness, there's no reason for its existence if its not. After all, being in love is loving yourself, talking to yourself, doing things which you never thought you would do.
You just cannot love someone and define a limit in it.
It's a dried tear drop on piano keys, it's a keyhole with passion on the other side, it's a sin without a guilt and it's a beach without a sun but with stars.
Limiting love would be like counting the number of times you breath and trying to keep the number same everyday.