Wingless heart and a flightless bird.

Somedays I walked on a side walk to find myself as crazy and lonely as those with no roof,I would visit a place or two,

Lane too narrow with people very few.

In dark and in light,

In happiness and somedays with pouring sadness,

I would walk down those roads which would found me,

Accepted me where the drunk was happy and I would be there climbing out of my loneliness and being part of that society,

Culture or a world.

I would remember my short trips and my long walks,

I would remember my times where I felt like a whistle in silent night,

Where with me walked no one but my shadow,

Like a prisoner of time,

Like a story of crime 

I would walk beside the lake behind my house,

I would walk under the street lamps too dim with people under them, sleeping, living too broken.

They would smile more than the ones in the afternoon daylight people.

” my dear, my dear heart would you rain again tonight ? Would you climb up, above all those memories and look at the moon ? Would climb up again with all the courage and strength and love your self again ”
Thoughts became as distorted as my self after evening orange sky, the birds would sit on my balcony, my window, inside the house, on the couch rather than going home.

it was a mess, a mess they found more reasonable and homely than the life of their own,

I would keep them company with my eyes and the drunk wind around us and they would fly,

Fly inside out of my heart,

Like a killer of a lover. 
” what is there to search in search for ? I would stay here and you could be anywhere, anywhere where you don’t wish to be and you still don’t use your wings to find your desire and here I sit with my desire to find wings again. ”
Falsely and filthy,

The evening would dry me out, dry me out of stories, words and mostly my life,

The clock of hand would always be on run, always away and far, a place where I can never find it. 

Would you be as false and filthy as me,

Don’t judge me but be with me,

I can’t hurt you anymore but may be someday I might love you,

Someday I might become a poet for you, write poetry on dry leaves, the ones which will touch your feet, I will pick those leaves and with dry ink, colour black I would write for you. Would you be kind enough to smile back and not love, just smile enough which has a meaning for nothing and everything. 


Blind sea

Little dark corner of my heart doesn’t know How to love what should be loved. Is it strange or is it okay for me to be like that. I can only think and imagine, sometimes I like drinking alone, somedays I feel lonely in crowd. It’s beautiful some nights and some nights I remember all my bad days. They always stay at back of your memory, but why is what I wonder always. I don’t know what to feel for more, happiness or sadness. I get drunk on a thought of a woman or art, I hardly can differ. It’s beautiful on the window of my heart and I stay still in silence with music in my heart, reading poetry to my moment which someday will become memory or empty just like me. I wish someday words come out in a form of a shadow, shadow of someone who can sit with me and not care of the wind around. Sit with me and get drunk without a question in heart. I don’t know how far that day is, I don’t know how far from that day I am. All I wish it to know is, if that day will ever come, but who is there to tell other than the glass in my hand which is as drunk as I am. Beautiful inside and beautiful outside, I wisely look at the shade, tho a little dumb in my heart may be that is how it is always suppose to be. What is the point of being strong with emotions or feelings anyhow, being free with everything, everything that loves you, that hurts you, that defines you, that makes you, you. Be free with it. ” fuck ” she once said when I was too drunk, she stood in light of dim shadow and I was there, my heart was screaming loud but all she could hear was me being angry, how can a person feel the depth of you ? I don’t know and I think I never will. Nights when I have been drowning, nights when I have been sitting in the corner of a bloated room with people around or no one in horizon I have felt happy and lonely. That’s me, the expression of my life, living, loving and loathing the beauty of life in a shadow, with a shadow which just belongs to me. Caged in a life or time, or time which has caged my life, it’s always in circles and I love being blind when I walk in that circle. Never heard a cry of me in those memories just thoughts which have been numb for too long, I hope I don’t forget my self, I hope I don’t stop writing to my self, I hope I don’t stop writing at all. It’s crazy, outside, inside but I belong there in those words which can feel me or the words which I can feel. Don’t step in this sea with me, you and I will drown, may be with little whiskey on our breath may be little happiness in our hearts, but eventually we will drown. 

Don’t believe me for the heart I have, it’s barely sober, drunk in love, music and art it always is. Hope you never find me and if you do I hope you find me in peace or in dark or in solitude so that when we meet. We can drink again, again and alone. 


Love and her wings.

I ran down to an ocean today
like everyday I had you beside me
It has a memory of us drunk last night,
I felt free
we walked down the shore
rocky sand and broken clouds
hearts flooded
and love on the fading side
of old life,
we ran our hands through the memories
we shared the sheets of this blue sky
we painted our moment
with happiness again,
our feets
our hands
our hearts,
honey I did not mind any of you
in that moment of us.
I remember how fucked my thoughts were
and you stayed calm with them
like you were travelling in paris
on a cold midnight,
I noticed every inch of you
when you thought i was busy
being lost and drunk,
this crowd
this unfaithful dream
this untouched wind of ocean,
everything i want to remember
as i know life is short
when you are in love,
shorter than the
bird trapped in a bottle,
i wonder how it
holds up its breath,
in that light of hope.

Ribbon of solitude !! 

I sit in a world
little lost, little bright
i find the mystery through her eyes,
she said she will stay,
she said she will never cry,
as she started to drink,
as she started to let me in,
lost lake of unknown memories
started to rain,
following my own shadow
i went too far,
far where only i could drink my pain,
my moon always whispered
and i always felt it like a diary .
i still sit under the same sky,
i still feel my voice unheard,
i still search my window of hope,
hope where i am the one always
no matter what colour it is raining,
i always am on my knees.

Can you save an angel when the demon is drinking.

I don’t know where to start or where to end,

I can make a mark on your smile which turns and not bend,

I have felt the need to be a drunk and you there to read me,

Eyes have always been a letter of truth, and lips they hear no lie.

I am here to read a dream and she there, out somewhere is listening to one, I don’t know how strange or how true the sky is. I don’t know how far my smile can reach and breathe, feather of beautiful blue tale would always fly for me even if I find my self down in the well of dry love. I sit with a drunk Angel down there plucking flowers making life live down in a hole of hell and the hole is not a hole anymore. Now the heart there feel frees to share and live. I met her there in that day, skin too soft, smile too framed, eyes too blue like an ocean with too many waves. I write a paper on a word and that word becomes my moment and that moment drowns in a black memory of her old rusted heart and butterfly like soul. The age was losing her and losing her made me feel old at a young age, can’t deny the fact how beautiful and ruthless can life be in a minute which changes with ticking sound of familiar wind. 

Belonging to you meant a life for me, can’t create what I never saw,

What I never saw can’t be dreamed.

Drunk lights and dancing darkness.

The sky felt heavy as a heart
drowned in melody too beautiful,
craving of silent hill
and dying of innocent ocean,
the stars felt deeply ignored
when the hands felt deeply untouched.

In this night I find my self strangely away from a start which I wish has no ending. In a room closely filled with all the hopes, love and dreams, I feel beautifully close to a past, the one calling me out from my window, asking me to kiss the night once more as always. But I am with no struggle to fight anymore, no life to turn black anymore, no heart to kill anymore, her I am with a life to live a life of no life anymore. The sadness has grown and from where I stand It doesn’t see me anymore, I feel it inside me somewhere close but I don’t see emotion of it anymore, my heart feels the shadow and doesn’t sense the smile of it anymore. How raw the time was and how small the memories have become. I with a mind
of a speechless speaker having hands of a work less magician find a flaw in the moment and not with the night. Night is still speaking to me as a friend from a long-lost journey, it’s the clueless shape of my hands which do not know where the tip of each finger land, it’s not story which will matter but the moments making it, and here I am standing in the cone-shaped river which has an eye closed and other one wishing not to see. what is that I bring in this dream of my dream, what is there to create anymore in this effortless blank page wishing and wanting to be someone, something.  Eyes are losing their vision, hands sinking in a quicksand, feelings drowning in an ocean

Craziness drank enough
in a night too sober,
empty handed moon
gave his heart enough,
space between the stars
sang enough,
content was the moment,
content was the story,
his memory wasn’t loud enough.

Strangeness of a stranger.

Carelessly i left my night
and slipped into a blind sound
of voiceless speaker.

I mostly wonder how life from one conversation leads to another. How from one moment to another we change as a person, from one memory to another we create a new shadow of who we can be and who we were. The thought is very charming but with a cost attached to it. Watching many people knowing how the head and heart works, I see the rational and delusion side of each part. Sitting on a bench on an evening among the crowd wondering what the personality speaks and what their ideas would be. In strange event of passing moment I met I saw and what I felt, I pour it own in a form of conversation we had.

On a lost chair in middle of the park she sat always, I saw her now and then when the clock of my life took me there as destiny or fate I hardly grow around with those words. But I saw her always, nothing peculiar but always behind a mask she seemed and I always wish to know the description of what she holds behind that door of her heart and mostly head.

“hey” I said

With a distorted look of unknown but a feeling of familiarity she replied “ Do I know you ?”

“ I come here not so often but when I do, I tend to notice a bit of you always away from the crowd”

“that’s me, mostly wishing where I wish to be”

“you think if I sit down next to you that will make a difference ?”

“the empty space has nothing to say may be you could”

With a hesitation which was lost before my “hey” I sat in the same air where her distinguished shade of unknown was lying in her own world. I didn’t find her fictional but more realistic that the crowd around, some barking, some playing and some pretending. But here I felt I sat in a reality which has always been a mystery for me and will always be.

“what brings you here ? mostly alone “

“aren’t you the curious one ?”

“well someone has to be”

“well as a stranger I believe the words will die as a secret I hope”

“well as a stranger I believe they might live inside me forever”

“fair enough”  she said with a hint of some smile inside, as if she felt it after a long time. The view was in her eyes and the hands had their own world.

“mostly,usually and ironically”

“aren’t you a charmer “

“it all falls behind that heart who cares”

“well this one here has many faces, mostly denying, hardly accepting and religiously lost”

“aren’t we all if I say, what I believe what I can believe, has nothing to do with the world but here I sit  finding stories in a total stranger who always amused me when I came in those lost space filled with hollow people.”

“Does that make me a part of it” she said

“if It did I wont be here”’

“you see that child behind the trees staring at each other, wondering who will hold who, as they play with the one on a chair, that one is a part of me.”

Mostly blocked and lost with answers I felt, as I saw a little kid in far away sand, but not able to feel it, sitting on a chair. I think that strange feeling I had, before I had anything, it was all lost in that one moment. I could bring back many theories, I could bring back a lot of words but what I cant bring bag back is the part where I didn’t know what and why she used to be there, I could have asked her how, why and what but that wouldn’t have made any difference anywhere. First time in my life I felt silence is the greatest gift of life, when you sit back watching and feeling life, one you should be lucky and happy about.