TANGLED VIBES

“Closing quotes”, “Stretching out sentences”, “Indenting paragraphs”, Tucked between the feathery eyelids. You say it, I see it, write it finely with pen, between quantum leaps of for-get-me not of my racing, pacing, on for miles heart, even when I barely know it. A so cherished gift you give, in a momentary gaze, yet seldomly seen.

आज एक ख्याल आया फिर बरबस इस दिल मैं, तनहा फिर हुआ मै भरी महफ़िल मैं. सोचा तू है एक उदासी या किसी की अधूरी ग़ज़ल, या मेरी ही तन्हाई का महज़ एक रुक हुआ पल. शर्मीला हो गया चाँद, बुरखे मैं बाहें अब बादल, दर्द इश्क मै देखा इतना , जितना विधवा की पलकों का बहता काजल. सुनाई कविता किसी तारे ने चांदनी को, हो गयी वो उसकी कायल, चाँद भी हो गया जब अकेला , बेदर्द दर्द भी हुआ तब घायल. रातों मै बिछ गयी रुसवाई , जब दिलों मै आई बेवफाई, इश्क चाँद से ही था चांदनी को , जाने क्यूँ लफ़्ज़ों मै न कह पाई. अश्क बहते हैं आज तक उसके,हम कहते उन्हें चाँद के दाग, इश्क हुआ था सदियों पहेले उसे, लगी है आज तक एक आग. सदियों तक बहें उसकी पलकें , भर गए सात समंदर, खोयी वही चांदनी है तू, इस चाँद सा मेरा दिल का मंज़र

With the advent of flames, traced back to you. The dreams that beget pain and inexplicable tranquility. And I see you standing in dense mist-in a place inaccessible, isolated and every few nights shattering my cozy, oblivious sheaths of escapist solitaire by your resounding echoing laugh, your wicked twitch of eye, your subtle brushing of a random, stray strand of hair and then smiling again, delving me further deeper into the vertigo of nothingness, where I lose my existence and burn and incinerate into cinders that buoyage forth into deep grey skies painted with my sense of loss, in quest of you. WHERE ART THOU? Lost? Oblivious to Love? Now I know why stars burn. Every night, they too lost their beloved-comets who went on their quest leading those stars alone. Shame and guilt over-rides a Comet's mind or heart (if she has any).The reason why the tail of a comet always faces away from the stars. I know you've got nothing to do with whatever is written here, yet so en

Sometime I feel, Why can’t I speak, of the sky and the worlds that I see Perhaps my words are as little as me. I see oceans so deep, filled with broken people’s love weep; Clouds so dark because of the rain that break their heart; A flying ship, stars that can shoot, Perhaps my life is best spent astute. I see vast blue skies, blue due to million spoken lies; Poor planets cries in form of rains, for the moon when his/her heart pains; but they heals with dry eyes and their rings again spin, Perhaps my patience runs thin. I see flow of God’s art, art that can rip your heart apart; Sparks so tiny, Engulfing a forest into flames huge and shiny; A foes that can fry, friends that can fight, Perhaps my waifs never outlast after night. I see a seeming sad, silent moan, inside holding a mighty teary cyclone; Waves rising so high, just to last for a minute before they die; but tonight I speak, and writes this rejected bleak, because the dark-space is nigh,

Lately I have been consuming too much of coffee so that my mind and heart can learn the tightrope of symbiosis. I leave the city when it’s half asleep so that I can sit alone in the coffee shop around the corner; when the lights on the highway shines a little brighter than usual; when I feel my heart get lost in the world that isn’t half as bad as they make it out to be. I take a sip of coffee and feel warm liquid wash down into the pit of my stomach. I try to leave my mind outside these four walls that imprison me here. There is a war that goes on between my two realities; it catches me off guard when I’m tired of dreaming out loud. One cup in and I feel the knots in my mind loosen. I feel there is so much more than the blue skies. There is this parallel world in parallel far away dreams, perhaps a free falling dream, mine, yours, Zero gravity, dreams; dream in which anything true or conscious is blurred, all thin lines are erased, a dream in which you and me or two sub-co

I was so caught in silver afternoon trance that I thought I can understand all-contained unspoken thoughts of yours before it comes from those pink slippers lips, perhaps I could grasp it from the hazel eyes of yours, but I didn’t, not really. The halves that I understood was only the smudginess of your kohl and semi-precious eagerness of yours that halved me into half. I didn’t realize, I didn’t know that two paths diverged in those mirror utopia, with nothing but the visible spectrum of in-between bits, towards the memory of whole bits of you and gory bits of me. 

I will love you in fraction of your mistakes not just in the sum of your victories I will love you in the pause between each syllable not just in the sentences that are kissable I will love you with all my affections not with any kind of fabrications I will love you in every sore from the tears not just in the collective happy years I will Love you in all your imperfections not with any expectations I will love you in all your life’s dark night not just when you’re radiating, so bright. I will Love you until my demise this I promise.

Those who are up for an arranged marriage at some point of time your parents will setup an arranged date for you so that you can decide if you want to get married or not. what if that date goes wrong because you met some creep head? How would you deal with such people ?                                                              ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- P.S – Updated the “About me ” Page on my blog, in timeline fashion, since lot of people was getting false impression of me . Have a look! But just lower your expectation (a lot) so that I may seem awesome to you. P.S.S - If you see your blog name's header file design there and if you feel invasion of your property. just say me  i will remove them . it was it just that i felt designing the complex name of your blog will be a great learning curve. .

It’s been a while since I breathed with my words and to be precise with you. Wandered off like drift wood in the pacific of your thoughts. I swear I thought that this time I would not break but now I’m feasted upon by the idea of you like a food in front of a hungry shark and I offer myself to you again with a heart even more you own. It’s really hard to close the door that you’ve fought to keep open before. The dream that beget from the air that holds the fragrance of yours or the marks of your lips that you left on the glass while drinking water, finds you in everything that you have once touched or made a part of somehow. Every word written here has traces of origin back to you, because you have had a way with my head. I’m not going to deny that I was not aware of your beauty. But the point is my words has nothing to do with your beauty. As I got to know you I realize beauty was least of your qualities. You instills grace in every common things and divinity in every carele

My poetry is a museum where I keep my skins peeling it off after taking off all my clothes in a place full of unknowns, someday people pick the flowers to bring to the graves of all the skins I shed in the form of my words Some gets so comfortable they want to see every inch of my skin Other are too terrified that they put daggers into my neck, the moment I unbutton my collar button.  

Off late I have been spending most of the time staring at my laptop screen searching for something that will illustrate a written prescription of a scrambled heart, running my fingers over the pages to feel the indentations of my pen that has released a dam of so many noun, adjectives and verb onto papers without worrying about correct sentence structure and grammar or anything like that. This isn’t the first time, I know how this goes, and it’s a route I understand well. But this isn’t a problem doc. The problem exists somewhere in the quantum physics of reality, I pretend to live in doc. Individual alphabets exist in space. All those twenty six alphabets coalesce to form millions of colossal elements over another trillion of years. We christen this thing as a “word”. These words keep on gyrating-sticking with another tiny word till a “sentence” is formed. But the problem was I wasn’t able to make sense out of these sentences doc. tick, tock doc. And then those sent

Sometimes we meet someone and we just know: it's love. However, it isn't always easy to make them realize that maybe they love you too. So If you've fallen for someone and you'd like them to feel the same way about you, here is one suggestion if nothing else works which has been tried and tested formula in Bollywood movies for over a decade (before SRK changed this approach) to help you encourage their feelings along in the right direction, all you need is a little jump :P Official partner -  "B to T" Wood movies of twentieth century ! This post have not been created with an intention to hurt sentiments of anyone or inspire anyone. Its just for fun and if you are really getting inspired after reading this then you seriously need a psychiatrist :P  PS :- My sincere apology to all those psychopath who somehow landed on this post through search engine by searching "how to make someone fall in love with you"

There is this girl when you begin to know her, you will feel you have a galaxy of “I love you’s” inside of you to spill onto her and if you will look into her eyes really you will realize those two brilliant kohl lined eyes actually makes an infinity, and gives you forever within a fraction of a second. She may not be most stunning and gorgeous, but she is God’s beautiful work of art; radiating aliveness into your soul because she is what Charles Bukowski meant when he said “Find what you love and let it kill you”. [P.S- Those who have heard the " Q jaanu Na (initial one paragraph version) " the song that i wrote and posted few daysback as   100th post  here is a link you can download the studio version of it  Download  (full song) . Do give your feedback though its not too good i must admit but since its the first one so i'm sharing it shamelessly :D ]

What if Some of the best selling books written by known author had been written by Indian politicians, businessman and celebrities that are so honest that they put YoSoHonest Arvind Kejriwal to shame? :P So I redesigned the original cover of some books that i thought should see the light of the day. P.s - There are more in this series (some half designed and some still in mind) and will be posting it soon (any idea or new title about book cover that you think should be added do mail me [credit would be given] ).

I’ve been writing for ten seasons now sometime in the five o’clock shadow to overcome my apathy for survival, sometime to get out of my candle waxed dreams that I have burned at the cross with mainstream reality, sometime cross-stitching my longing and stringing every vowels like Christmas light to write anything worth putting a meaningful title to but none of it worked until I started to let my bones to get burned in the mouth of madness and realized brightest are the flames that burns the most So now I drink my thoughts straight and smoke out every words that comes but that doesn’t mean I’m poet or lover or writer or anything worth calling may be just a ghostly cyborg turned into punching bag metaphors who prefers chaos between love and peace for learning how to live in myself because when as a kid I was asked what’s the difference between love and war? I told them I don’t know the difference and now I’m almost twenty two and the only d

I miss the enigma of the night because as the city sleeps my mind moves to those thoughts which are unreachable during the day, those thoughts which fits me like shards of glass on feeble doted wrists. Every freckle that shines in those nights tells a story and adds a profit to my mistakes that has graced me with experiences; when with the change in color of sky, I gaze into space and see those scattered stars interpermeate my physical state like broken pieces of misplaced collections trying terribly hard to be something else. Those 3 AM season of self-arson, when looking outside my window sill I see the whole world moving, and when these neon lights bring back me the thoughts that, outside this window there are lives that are being lived by the people who have my heart. When I see ghosts of stories appearing through these window sills. Outside this window, there is a room that my parents are sitting in, trying to come to the term with the choices their children have made. The

One night, I fell in Love with the idea to excavate all my fragmented scribe and ink that was spilled to describe on a crumbled up parchment in my dingy apartment   And Excavated, every word with fitful fingers acting like scythe with the tears borne in my eyes past skin, tissue and rind disguise until, naked and trembling, I took a deep breath and dah excavated back the last word from the last throbbing ink and my veins to bare the messed up tangled sheets raw, boneless inside still shivering like heavenly soul caught in cold with a frenzied look in every brittle word and screeching like a caged bird those tangled sheets, started thrusting its small thin, soft body again and again up against the windows pane searching for an elusive holy fire to turn its composites into ashen pyres because essence of those words was dying from the core along with the dreams it forswore Yes, it hurt no, I don’t know why I did it but I walked away letting th

To the someone whom you will find worthy for you, Love her endlessly and passionately because you couldn’t see the fragility of her heart to the softness of her skin that could bruise almost too easily. She is the kind of soul you will never meet twice, even if you spend hours contemplating the words to describe her, but no possible combination of twenty six different letters could ever possibly capture even the essence of what she feels like. Never throw the careless painful words in a heated moment, because she is a girl who gets hurt easily, but she will always keep her temper and will never call you horrible names that she can’t take back. So only pick the fight that is worth fighting for. Because losing her is not worth anything that can be found in 7,000,000,000 people. Let her open up to you, because past the collected exterior lies a wild, untamed child that will make your heart smile that words cannot explain. Sometime she will fall for herself and wouldn’t

She was still breathing, but the soul was lost, Tossed carelessly on junk-cluttered sidewalks,  drugged and dead, unconscious, Of the world around her, now whatever existence she had, certainly wasn’t life. Filth and stench of the city, caked into her skin  Heartless beast made it seem she was part of garbage she was lying in.

Today I’m handing you an unedited version of myself. Do you know what hurts? Heartbreak no. Looking at you hurts, because I badly want to hold your hand and stare at you; and know what it feels like not to be the window pane anymore, but I can’t. These Hours of a wait to dawn upon the moments hurts where I type in an “I MISS YOU” but then I delete letter upon letter with fragments of myself and my emotions and replaces it with “GOOD NIGHT” denying the fact that I’m forever enslaved to the path you once crossed.

An unconsciousness sailed through me seeing you sitting at the edge of your seat with elbows resting on your knees as you started talking to me. I began to search for myself in your flowing lines, within your heaven of adverbs and nouns that sometimes escaped into oblivion. I saw shimmering belted star in your smile telling me many named winter myths, burning meteor sailing over thousand stratospheric mile to be Kohl of your eye. Every second in a delicate frame, suddenly I realized I had something to lose, because my constellations are made up of every little  conversations  we had.

Since the inception of this feeling I have loved you and half of my life I will do that, but now I’m done of something. I’m done caring, I’m done taking the blame, and I’m done running after you. The only regret I’ve got is playing house under my pillow and letting melancholia curl up beneath my eyelids every time I tasted smoke in the back of my throat at four in the morning thinking about you with someone else, when shiver creeps down my spine. That’s real. Me with dilated pupil whenever you tasted digital and burning somewhere inside me. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- P.s- New series of 100 word story (first time writing in 100 words). I don't smoke or do drugs or recommend it to anyone . I use them in my post just to make it feel more intricate and intriguing. P.S.s- Those who think i write my personal account here.Such Noobs :P. I'm just experimenting with every form of writing. i'm not comfort

10, 9, 8… We are all moments away from something new, the clock keeps ticking and ten minute later you will be leaving and I don’t have a reason to ask you to stay. I don’t have a heart-moving words; nor do I have a grand gesture to show you how much I care about you. I saw the entire universe of galaxies, and I thought of you. I wonder what my warm eyes were looking at, are they? Doting around the stars looking for someone to reciprocate the exhilaration that runs through my veins in form of memories of the year spent with you. May be I want to scream at the top of my lungs for everyone to hear or the confetti to be thrown from the clouds written with all these words that try to shine with sincerity. 7, 8, 6… I’m sorry that I never wrote anything perfect for you so that I can give it to you, not even a simple goodbye. And truthfully, I don’t know what I would say in return if you wished me goodbye, the usual best of luck with your career and for your life. But if I

I am just A Wanderer with a thought Nothing’s magnificent about it I throw out my prose at people Hoping to find someone who might tag along It gets lonely walking all alone With the burden of words Meant for someone Thrown around to everyone In dire hopes that someone Might just accompany me On this wild, drug infested goose chase Maybe I have more words with me Than I could ever imagine The way I cough them out Like the blood I threw up Over the weekend But then again They are never meant for someone Anyone Are they? With the desk lamp glowing dim With every yank of paper from scribbled notebook Crumpled up and thrown with other rejects Slaying myself over the perfect piece To win you over You might think they’re just words I wrote up I do that a lot, write stuff up But it’s pretty different this time I never sought perfection before And now, I only want the best for you But let’s be honest I’m not magn