She and Oscar Wilde

You are not punished for your sins,you are punished by them, she quoted as her departing footsteps gently faded away into another night of starry lies and into another lunar love.
And I was the dice while you were the chance,
Because if adam had charm, eve would have danced,
You and me are one too many for a duet,
you would knit memories into emotions and then snip it,
Then you would smile a tear and I thought I was the poet,
And now curtains is to long brown hair what the keyhole is to those eyes,
Present in those calender pages,your presence is no surprise,
Farewell to the favorites while silence laughs at the door,
Your memories live and stink where my words don't no more...

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A severed head signifies gore,without a reason sometimes,

If its an artifact,it becomes a religious symbol in no time,

Our paths are relative,or so we sometimes want them to be,

So when we are at the crossroads,we know in time,theres another one to see,

You would bleed a vessel which wont need to sails to sail,

And you would shed a tear,and it would fail to care,

A man on the train shakes his head too often,unsatisfied it would seem,

One would write senseless on patterns,deciding one's life to be,

His red eyes speak of toxic waste,exponentially seeking chastity,

He would stretch too far sometimes,show us using a coat hangar can be heresy,

We ran across such thoughts once,twice theyve shown to one,

thrice we have met them,acted upon them...none

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Underneath the rainbows of lies and mistakes,

and a wind of love that was not,

the hour hand that was just a little too late,

sands of time showed how they fought,

In our blues we met,

bringing guilt to the light,

Hearts broken and wet,

sins to our own delight,

Afraid of our own touch,

scarred mirrors or was it the faces,

Hands,we did clutched,

like joining mazes to make places,

your farewell to a memory was not over,

mine just struggled to be,

The present knows me,Past was to know her,

while the good and the bad played hide and seek,

We built a house of cards,

leaving the joker behind,

the joke soon caught us off guard,

and the queen threw the king over the line,

Dawned upon by the truth,

if truth was the sunlight,

clouds were us,we dared we could,

Monsoon was just a metaphor over our eyes,

Now we shall part,my clandestine,

a part of us was always apart,

played our parts,scripted by the divine,

ends to ends,ends to my start,

And if we should meet again at a time in space,

How shall I greet thee ?

with that rainbow of lies and mistakes,

another guilt,another secret,another you and me

Spoken Word-1

I travelled your green eyes once,I was sitting on a huge pink bow which never would never bend how much and how badly I wanted it to,
And one day it did, you smiled and I received a flattering reception from those smoother than silk black curtains engulfing a pair of shy emeralds.
I remember how much I loved to sink in the sea-green pond and when you slept,
how I wondered if a mirror is what I would see when there will be light again.
For I knew and believed you wouldn't draw those black curtains forever.
I once got washed down to the pink bow,maybe because I splashed in too much.
For I remember how salty was it to be sweet.
Lot of time has passed by now since Ive lived next to these red vessels and valves.
There is always a rush here, sometimes I try to find the person in this maze of your
shattered pieces of crimson plated glass but he always seem to 'beat' me at it.
Youve always been ruthless to my new residence in you, sometimes causing rain on it,
and then sometimes breaking its windows.
and so it happened, after years of sailing through glittering translucent red liquid
forming rainbows on your skin and those adventurous trips to pick shards of emeralds
the 'thud' monotonicity at my home ceased to exist,the rush stopped,vessels were anchored,
And I swam my way to the green pair of stones where the curtains had closed.

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Theres always a thin line to cross, and sometimes we like to criss the cross,
to draw a streak and to win the game which was never meant to be played,
How else do you think we were always a head or a tail in every toss,
and how do you think we never called Him the first of the wonders,a non man-made,
The line diminishes and the illusion is faith,faith is the line and the reality is late,
for you would know the way I chalk a white across the dead,
that the memories are now just few unconcerned flower beds,
I do believe in the soul and that soul never dies,
It lives after you but where was it all this while,
The answer is you left the soul always at the line that was,
that thin line,that line when we dared to criss the cross....

Malice Aforethought

Entered the castle of bloody bliss,Darkness precious for my biz,
A sharpened list from a blacksmith wiz,
Requiem for a lullaby before the death's kiss,
Moon shone on the water drops on the grass,
Ending the black like a goth's last,
Blood clots on my past,the dead of the night past,
Thriving for divnity,not for class,
Golden bolts on teak brown,looked like flowers on a wedding gown,
then had the handle on some extra pounds,
The door didnt make a sound,an owl's hoot began to drown,
high on fine weed and its a long way "down",
Refer my profit as a thing so attach no feeling,
as shadows creeps on the crimson ceiling,
To uproot it lik a bad seedling,closed curtains and a lamp for reading,
It lay on satin sheets,a damp red velvet symbolising its deeds,
With a new meaning to seek,I slowly took out one of my means,
Somewhere the clock struck three,while my thirst overpowered me,
Soemhow it came in vain to me, as I spotted the neck's vein to be,
Sliced! Now my palm reads blood,
And the crave passes out like a dud,
The door groaned this time and the gates creaked,as it lay there limp and weak,
I saw under the brilliant light of a thunder that it was me,I saw a dream speak...

-The Assassin

She was afterall a stranger

She showed me love,
she had a soft voice,
the lies,white as a dove,
then i looked at her twice,
thrice it occured to me,
she couldnt be the one u warned me bout,
vice that she showed to me,
I had a craving,greater than my doubt,
The candies she gave were not poison,
she asked me if i knew the way to the horizon,
I shook my head in despair,
for I knew i lost it,
She said she was going there,
If i want we can find it,
She took me,and the horizon i saw,
and I live there now,
she forgot the way back,maa,
she left me there,
So it seems that u spoke the truth,
u warned me bout the dangers
and I never lissened to u,
cuz mama,i talked to a stranger...

A fortuitous meaning

Waiting for the sun,burning up the addict,
Wondering about the addiction,or if its vice versa,
Cut a part of us,Filling up the red ink,
for an emotion on paper when you forgot where the words are,
The truthful lies,leaving some faithful behind,
A baneful vice leaving some fretful lives,
Motley of colors and you cant see the white,
Ah smooth divine! Comparing some lines to ur fives,
All this and much more,much above,
Are the things we do for love,
so pack an extra round of the five senses
and the things we do for love.


-Shubit

Hallucinating Reality

A man shouts out to far off messiah standing under the cold moon,
Whispering light into the man' eyes,hoping to see the sun soon.
Insanity lingers through the air with aliens smokin in the background,
The man plays a spanish guitar,re-kindling spirits,
Repetition of things,they call it the pattern of their life bits,
Messiah's voice echoed around the cave,a cave deeper than his voice,
Man shouted god!!...so was the birth of it,such was the man's choice,
Insanity closing down on him now,the man ran towards the messiah,insane....
it was the man,it was the end,it was the end of the cave....

Music

Music is not just a word
It speaks to you when no one's around,
Takes you to a place which no man has ever found,
Its the light seen by those closed eyes,
Sunshine maybe,in the lonely night skies,
Its the feeling of reaching home for those who were lost,
A drop of tear maybe,for those with their memories washed,

Music is not just a word
Sometimes it is the melody enchanting us,
And sometimes its the green and the lust,
The power to create a soul with few strings,
Its divine maybe,even not one of HIS things,
Its about people who become legends,oh so close to the gods,
Its about a religion,a religion with no discrimination of thoughts,

Music is not just a word
Its our thoughts,our emotions with wings,
And maybe,a song for the traveler to sing,
Its one more step forward when the road is too long,
And yet another conclusion when your rights were always wrong,
Its for the man looking at the horizon with hope in his eyes,
Its for the one who wants to clench the tides,the one longing to see the paradise...

Music is not just a word......


*H.O.D*