Souvenirs

Arrested romance,

Love at a glance,

Now, a lost dream,

But precise and trim.

Could i imagine,

Of being soul-less skin?

Smiling with the askance;

And that makes sense.

Cause you see,

Humans do flee,

Of emotional drives

Or nature's strives.

But alike evidence,

As a murder essence

Fragments of memories,

Imprisoned in glories,

Of physical form.

Left Behind-norm.

A novel obsession,

Surrounds the posession.

A secret collection,

I guard with affection.

Unique domains,

Of exotic remains.

Each piece of physical matter,

Has certain tale to utter.

A boarding coupon,

When tears fell in turn.

A croissant wrap,

Left, but I did tap.

A poetry dismissed.

Then, mistakenly, now kissed.

An audio capture.

To travel past from future.

Every sight i turn to,

I relive a moment or two.

Can a bought object,

Bestow me this effect?

Neither can people,

Whose step tremble.

Rights on them,voided.

But not on objects,invaded.

I might sound materialist.

Factually, Enlightened Realist!

Although, are harmless,

May turn, elements of distress.

As the verve of fears,

Of losing, reincarnates in Souvenirs.

Love?

Makes the nourished,

Feel deprived, poor.

If not scarce,

Creates indispensibles,

Of those not meant.

Discarding onus,

The independence,

Finally the conscience.

For the amateur,

Endeavor to insanity.

For the omniscient,

A new dimension.

Untill undone lost,

World being achieved.

Evoking to sacrifice,

Wealth, Time, others,

And at worst,

The spared Life;

As he is the world.

And when lost,

Mayday at daylight;

Increased desperation,

Seeking mortality,

Solace or vengeance.

Why! i ask,

Is "love" nothing,

But mere tough?

Categorised under care,

Sympathy,pain and lust?

Or a chronic disease,

Disambiguated, "Obsession"?

Scars

Sometimes I cross,

From edge to centre;

And center defies;

And entire world sinks.

But a ''mark'' remains.

Pain instigates it.

And cries, pacify.

I deny to leave,

Till it stays,

On the flesh.

And I can see

So can you,

Everyday,and vex;

Of the tales it depict.

And one coming day,

Dissolve or fade.

But the inscription,

Above and within

On the mesh,

No eyes reach.

But spouting blood,

Every second kills.

No mercy I give.

No sympathy I let.

However I deprive,

The story, I love;

Of souvenirs and memoirs,

And the ''scars'' prevail.

Untitled

Isnt a pleasure or pain,

But sincerely, Insane.

One of the determined birds,

Singing euphony to the nerds.

Tamed to be flightless;

Unnamed for the mess.

Eyes bestowed to the lens,

In sudden blast of silence.

Restrained laughters' play,

Deception on its way.

Be in joys or woes,

Seem one legged flamingoes.

Two say, "Rolling, Action.."

Were invoked every fraction.

Gentle love and grace,

Sway with gliding pace.

Work turned obsession,

To build a posession.

It isnt mere a haven,

Sets of uncertainties, woven.

Aloof I was still,

Rebuked I was fill.

But today, the ben speaks,

Of the peace it seeks.

Voyage of Transluscence,

Destined to pure essence,

Of compassion,engage.

Aside the hypocritic rage.

But alas!We made her alive,

From folds where minds dive.

Icons

The moving shell,

Holding men at large scale,

Doesn’t intend to lope,

Through windows,i hope.

And i see Homo sapiens,

With vague opinions.

Gliding flags of pride,

On their lame ride.

And what captivate,

Are the icons of fate.

Constitute another domain.

Am i blind in vain?

For i view mere object,

And objective i reject.

Begin with nature's gift;

The flower on watery rift.

The revolving machine;

On the room welkin.

An open palm;

Helping rebel,calm.

A ferocious animal head;

Always feeling red.

A static clock;

Soundless, tic-toc!

A light emitting instrument;

On the struggling segment.

The steam engine vehicle;

Pressed between colours,fickle!

A fluid filled seed;

For visual not feed.

A four-legged silent giant!

From north extravagant!

Odd!  see change,

Comb for hair range!

Here, one goes for women!

The sewing machine omen.

The more i view,

My acknowledgement due.

More than being political,

Creative minds, philosophical.

And who says, i bore?

Instead, i m enjoying on fore.

Sometimes amazed,vexed.

Tang of philosophy,annexed.

As the swaying symbol,

Coming day will bless us all.

Will the trend of material,

Replace logic and real?

Then, i wish to icon, 'Human Brain'

And using it,being an aim.

Conquest

So let it burn;

as every flame,

would spell a word,

and myriad to blame.

but will distort own.

before repressed agony,

turns to evil rage,

and further vengeance;

let into "battle of savage."

where man turns ogre,

but brings out a cause.

tell how centered satans,

and make them pause.

this isnt aggression,

but more definetly,

consequence of suppression.

his subtle dejection couldnt,

decipher what we lost.

which he thought bed,

tossed out to a field of war,

giving meaning to words said.

this isnt mere chessboard,

but ultimate clash,

of chronic thoughts;

alike ignition from a flash.

partnership may shear apart,

but not the eloquent goal.

cause, this is conquest!

not mere love or hatred,

but for conscience and humane;

which isnt autocratic or made;

but ultimately prevails...

so let it burn,

till death fails.

I am a mere Sadist Friend

I am undone..
when i come...
I blink for you
Like incessant new
though evanescence
But pure to sense
I creep within
stretching new rhythm
And every string i pull
Kisses you ache-ful
and i feel pervasive now
But you try to weaken me how
my poise pierce you though
And i flow,i glow and flow
Pure,me as a virgin
You confused of my origin
left you not me further.
Cause i like weather,
I come and leave,
N i let you bereave;
some of ur tolerance
And some of my effervescence.
With a hope to reside
I am partially aside.
I wont hurt you
Bear me a few
Though i am quite sordid
But no intentions, morbid.
I am a mere sadist friend
helping you breath wat i tend.

Hands of Ecstasy,Striving for Peace

Holding hands of ecstasy;
Striving for peace.
Desires seem euphoric;
Thus,diversion increase.

Heart deserves pleasure
But soul,salvation.
Following painful truth,
Leaving for invasion.

The paths of gold,
Leads to sordid view;
Blindfolds us below;
To replicate the crew.

Why not envisage?
As dream favors.
Wake from morbid,
With happy savors.

Distraction

True said Keating,
Cant subdue truth
Or deprive from within.

I am distorted by love,
and my creepy senses
Intrigued by cupid dove.

I say what, much not;
and feel what still;
Incessant they fought.

Desires and vision,abstract
Vision being sordid
And desires attract.

I am haphazard;
My will and my wish,
Create debilitating hazard.

Now,tracking will
For eternal salvation
And debts to fulfill.

I am Not so strong,

To bear the truth;

Nor to masquerade along.

Sane me seems insane

Cause will too wishes 

Something,but in vain.

Unconditional

I posess nothingness,
No asset but disgust.
Never been attentive,
For the me in me.
Just dally wid her,
With a fear or no,
Strived for love.
As myriad years passed,
The lust for being cared,
Turned desperate;
And love a prerogative.
Now i condemn,
I was ultimate evil;
Gratifying my soul,
For an actual zero.
And increasin debts,
Standing safe,offshore.

I Feel Red

Cheerful in love
Or confused mauve?
With a pink blush
To feel him,i rush.
Thorns of roses hurt
For love pervert.
Blood a pinch,
And tear an inch,
The voyage was strange.
Made a lurid change,
That i cant view,
Not even dark few.
Where paths never meet,
The colour,there greet.
Though much pure.
Bt of no tenure.
I am left wid thirst;
Blood quenches the burst.
My lips fade to blue;
Toxication without clue.
Rescued to an oblivion,
Where i breath on.
Today,I feel red;
Both alive and dead.

-Nivedita Kayal