AMONGST THE CROWD

CLICKED.

SYMPHONY

Come share this with me 

A treasury of words 

That lay within the grasp of your fingertips 

Wrapped in the blanket of tired emotions just for a little while 

As the sun captures this moment 

Before it's gone 

And you are too... 

             - THE.RETARDED.RAMBLER

What is freedom

Perhaps again.

Perhaps the world has its own tune 

And our strings have yet to be played 

or our song yet to be found.

Perhaps in the midst of patience 

with all the texts 

the right words were lost. 

Perhaps while the ocean waves exhaled 

it carried your essence 

while I was sitting on my balcony.

Perhaps with all the souls wandering the streets 

ours crossed paths 

without us even knowing.

Under the lights 

where the universe is playing its game of tic tac toe 

it connected our lines.

I close my eyes and listen 

Listen to the symphony of your smile, laughter and cries

A symphony of you.

Perhaps the words that I have written 

have been sketching your picture 

since the beginning.

Perhaps destiny is making us the fool, 

making us see all the signs 

but still wants us to play another round. 

Because I have been waiting 

so that I could see you 

you in every form that is humanly possible 

and every form that makes you, you.

I have been waiting 

So that I can take you in my arms 

And let the worlds converge. 

Perhaps.. I waited too long 

                               - ARITRO.R.BANERJEE 

Cockroach

Of what's left (Bank Page 5)

He left his heart in the arms of the poor

He gave his mind to the ones who were greedy

After all that was given

He smiled and thought

That his job was done

The night was silent

But the silence always is broken

He got up

But with weakness

He saw the destruction

it burnt  him.

He saw the pain

He fell.

He smelt the smoke

He couldn’t breathe.

The tears couldn’t fill

The oceans that had disappeared

He pulled at his hair

Because he couldn’t understand this misery

But to realize the hair was all gone

With every pain, sorrow and death

The wrinkles grew on

He saw that innocence was lost

Where he saw it once belonged.

He looked around for answers

And found it in the distance he saw a boy

Standing armed and frightened

He looked down and asked

“Why have you created such destruction!”

The boy removed his mask and said

“Because they told me it was all for you”

RETARDED RAMBLER

  (BLANK PAGE) 

What I Type But Don't Tell...

Sometimes it’s hard to write. All you really want to do is bang the keyboard hard enough so that it can understand your mind and reproduce your feelings in words, you try to type, “my life isn’t going the way I expected” but all that comes out is “saohafkwbVNLwhdjkvhnalef guvhW Vwhefng akhrwg”.

Because you see writing is just a process, a way of understanding your emotions, but the truth is do you connect to yourself apart from this writing? The words we say here are nothing compared to what we do with them in reality. Believe me when I tell you that words cannot compare to the satisfaction that you receive when you express them. 

I know some of you might be asking “but don’t we express through our words?” and to you I say that yes, yes we do, but do we truly say what we mean? Do we let the person really know what is happening in our mind or are we just diverting them by telling them a random joke or a topic, which you think might be more interesting. That’s where you need to tell yourself, Stop hiding, stop being fearful to accept. Start to realise that your words and your mind connect together without the voice that is telling you not to. Because when you start to do that, then you start to see a new side to you a side that seemed familiar, though distant, a side that you thought you could never achieve, a side called Bliss…

Reflections

Who do I see in this mirror 

Are these the worried woes of the past 

or the future fears that are yet to come?

Is this a message of fame 

or sad witness of shame

Does the beard I wear show the man I have become 

or is it the loneliness that I crave. 

Does this body have the strength to be a warrior 

Or is it going to be an example of weakness. 

What are these reflections 

that blind my eyes 

Are these the images of hope 

or the cracked attempts at Freedom?

Turning...

The mind spins around 

and it doesn't settle 

The shifting colours 

Pierce its way though my memory 

The sides keep turning 

and it makes me wonder 

Which side is me? 

I shift,fold and rearrange 

But the pieces are reluctant to the solution

Which makes everything seem easier 

and yet it takes the alternate route   

You give up 

and let it remain the way it is 

But you know that one day 

You can pick it up 

and switch it around

To see that everything fits...
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