Emotional Voice in the East

As an emotional being holding onto a pen,
I might transcribe earthquakes to show
My inner battles against the conflicts of Man,
Or dig deeper and release waters of life
To resurrect many unnamed forlorn souls,
An Eastern voice within starts to resonate.


Urbanisation of the East

I dig into the graves of the butterflies –
Once soaring over the habitats of men
To share a dancing ritual in a ceremony –
And I find the final jigsaw puzzle piece,
Puzzling my peaceful self as I unearth the truth,
Concrete cremating our buried Mother Nature.

The Death of Stars

Since the dark ages of Apollo cursing
The crow, the cup, and the water snake,
Since the monsters of our own beings
Reproduced the wonders of storytelling,
Will we ever forsake some of our privileges
To remember the sacred names of nature?
He arises among the debris to denounce
The arrogance of the stars in the Big Dipper,

And from dusk to dawn unearthing
The shapeless bones of a raging soul,
Fiery in the sense of a burning coal,
And Hydra with its fading tail soon
Took its head to devour the gods of men,
And it curves around celestial bodies,
Travelling through copious dimensions,
To find a relic and reclaim the throne,

Except, the presence of another monster,
Quivering the heavens into a black hole,
Hercules now far from reaching its neck,
An old neighbour of the grape gatherer,
With its blistered bellowing barks asking
For a chance to show its beautiful heart,
But since earthly men never truly change,
Facing Polaris, the monster was publicly slain.

Stolen Maps

Men have long stolen maps of earth,
They have recreated them defective,
Nature’s eminence was casted away,
They were cursed: those who learnt
The truth along with buried treasures,
Not from nature, no, nature never
Curses as it only wages old beauty,
But men curse their own avaricious
Selves into their own burial ceremony,
And nature keeps outliving those men,
You see, men want to own everything,
They even look up towards heaven,
And search for maps that show them
The stairs to climb and the gates to
Take down, but then nature prevails,
Sending them into the depths of an
Ancient dust forgotten beyond the
Creation of you, and me, and Time.

Leaving Steampunk City

Hold the fort and wait for the cavalry, they said –
Pick our side and you will see victory, they said –
And there was a time when I believed their word,
Where I stood on castles fuming all coloured trees
To ground for trebuchets to fly us out of abyss,
But day after day we painted our great walls
With smog to block our breaths into darkness,
Gates were only opened to nature’s black debris,
Resisting was I to the temptation to leave all
Behind and hammer into similar enslavement
But on a different earth, a different whisper,
Somewhere where the greyness was never the
Symbol of life and all its essence, where our
Lost souls belonged to colours lifting us out of
Abyss without any sign of fumed destruction,
So, I followed my sailing eyes to an unknown
Horizon away from all kinds of hearts of men,
So, I let go of the fort and I picked my own side.


There was once a businessman,
Corrupted beyond logical reason,
He would count the stars at night,
And before sunrise – before any
Witnesses – he would take one,
Because, to him, they were not
Very efficient on the dark sky,
He would rather take them for
Their energy and sell them for
Profit so that by the end of the
Year three hundred and sixty
Five stars were put in the safe
In one of his banks that nobody
Knew, and one night, there was
A little girl who could not sleep,
While the moon snored aloud,
But her eyes were attracted
Towards those diminishing
Stars nobody ever befriended,
Except her where she and
Twinkle talked for the entire
Night, but just before the
Sun showed itself, the man
Put Twinkle in his big bag,
His greed blinded him to see
The poor little girl crying so
Innocently asking for help,
Here and there, shouting at
Other stars to pull the bag
Away from that greedy man,
But nobody listened, so she
Decided to follow this wicked
Man back to where he locked
Twinkle, but what she saw was not
Only Twinkle but also the rest of
The stolen stars, millions and
Millions of them trapped in the
Safe, and so she decided to open it,
Break it, destroy it entirely, and
When she did the stars floated
Freely towards their home, but the
Businessman shouted at the little
Angry girl: “you have to pay for the
Loss of revenue!” but the girl
Shouted back: “they don’t belong
Here,” the evil greedy man said:
“I counted them all night, I labelled
Them, I made them efficient, and
Now, they’re gone because of you,
Didn’t you know that I owned them?”
The girl said calmly: “they were
Never for sale in the first place.”

The Two Lads

The old lad and the not-so-old young lad
Started to walk together by the beach,
One had a stick and the other sunglasses,
The night swallowed the rays of lightness,
And crows would appear from the horizon –
Extremely distant that the two lads found
It excruciatingly painful to stare at, and so,
One of them sat on the snow-covered
Deserted unscathed wooden bench that
Was genetically engineered to survive
This apocalyptic world of many shadows,
The old lad went to his pockets and
Spread his palms out where seeds laid
There: warm, still, and totally silent,
The not-so-old young lad was extremely
Observant and stood firm in a great pause,
What he saw was something magical
Where extinct small birds and huge
Pelicans would soar high encircling
Those seeds, but the darkness changes
The beach and a whistling sound alarms
The two lads where they immediately
Walked along the coast in calmness,
One had a stick and the other sunglasses,
The old lad and the not-so-old young lad.