My Forever Angel

When the heart races for you,
The drumming sounds of life
Brings joyous smiles even when
It dwells at the edges of the world,
And even if it digs deep within
Its quaking earth or soars over
Volcanic mountains, my Angel,
Your warming smile births
Childhood whispers with dreams
So vast such that one day, mom,
You may live so proud of me.

Unlocking My Screams

I am searching for a key,
One that can release me,
From unwanted thoughts,
Hammering my pure mind,
Onto the walls of agony,
Nails piercing the heart,
From all directions,
Leaving no room for confessions,
Or even a moment of solitude,
The solace of serene souls
Driven away as I bleed out,
But the key will guide me,
To wield heavenly whispers,
Forged in ancient constellations,
And if I were to reignite my diminishing smiles,
Then I need to unlock the screams of my soul,
I am fighting my way out of this,
With warm beats of young drums,
With melodious bangs of Eminem,
And even if volcanic eruptions were
Loud and fierce,
Damaging and deadly,
And even if earthly quakes were
Trembling and traumatic,
Thunderous and wild,
And even if oceanic tsunamis were
Humongous and crushing,
Treacherous and drowning,
I know I will crawl my way out of this,
Because I know I will never be alone.

Rest In Pieces

Blow the minds of the universe
And show me the curses of mankind,
If I have not created more paths,
More people will surely suffocate me,
Betray all that I have said to you,
All the passion and all of me you vaporised,
Leave me be and let me descend into
The darker than black abyss,
Constellations disappeared,
And now I am no one, none.

You may call on the birds and
All natural beauties of this universe,
And all I shall be to you is utter silence,
You may quake the earth under my soul,
Or explode the mountains into ashen volcanoes,
But I shall stay always in infinite silence,
Leave me be for I have chosen my
Intricate being to smile on the few stars,
Begone! For the constellations have
Disappeared, and now I am no one, none.

Howls and Roars

I was once a little boy who travelled
To different planets; each to tell their
Own ancient story about my purpose –
Not theirs, and strangely enough, only
Riddling clues evaporated into my ears,
The voice? Well, no specific position,
Only the vivid signs in the atmosphere,
And on the brightest month of the year,
And on the coldest night of the month,
And on the loneliest hour of the night,
Wolves started to appear amidst the
Misty snowfall of a woodland planet,
And I have lived on this planet patient
For it to tell me its story about me,
And even after years spending on it,
I have never heard anything except now:
The endless howls under the several
Moonlights – the volcanic planet did
Reveal the secret of the darting red
Eyes that would stop my heartbeat,
But I had to do something for them,
And their approach was slow and
Fixated centred entirely around me,
I couldn’t climb the trees or dig down
And hide below some earthly matter,
But I might be able to speak some
Sense into them, and so I told them
To go away and leave me alone,
I asked them what of me did they want,
Their reply was simply predatory,
And I knew that any second now
I would be devoured into little pieces
Beyond recognition, and so I shouted,
And I noticed the hesitation on the
Younger wolf, and so I roared at the
Top of my young lungs, and many
Stopped their deathly march, but
Since I was by myself that pause did
Not last forever, and so, I roared again
And again and again, but this time,
The planet roared its life with me.

The Secret Garden

This is a story about our encounter:
A secret bestowed upon a garden
By the keepers of a magical town,
Centred within Gaelic wilderness,
Frivolous birds briskly fly their wings
Into the flowers of a peaceful summer,
We become trees: young and wise,
Organic leaves delineating our soul,
Signs of nature pulling us here,
A nest for storytellers, a sanctuary so
Sacred till the last sip of a teapot,
Brewed within earthly volcanic
Waters to be consumed by many
Celestial souls of serene beings,
The story tells of an enigmatic
Inscription well-preserved within
Its silent walls and cushioned floors,
Within its dim lights and fragrant
Candles, within the cheerful friends
And the veiled whispering couples,
The story discloses to the passers-by
The will to dance a tribal ritual
Energised by the rare melodic aether,
Strings of a golden harp revealing
The vivid colours of this garden,
The story now flicks to a different
Chapter as the door cracks open
And the chimes of our steps reach
This realm’s magnificent keepers,
The same ones who forged this
Hideout for us to share something,
So, relax, take a sip, and enter the story.

O Human

Read, speak, or write,
But never be silent
O human
Weep aloud today for
Tomorrow’s smile,
Or shout silently –
An inner earthquake,
Or an outer volcano,
Whatever you do,
I do, we do,
Try to survive a
Hopeful peace,
Feel, O human, feel –
Feel anger mixed with
Boiling hearts,
Feel sadness crushed
Into your chest,
And fight,
And stand,
As one human,
O human,
O fragile being,
O emotional treasure,
O beautiful creature,
The prey of monsters,
The free soul of a
Whispering nature,
Raise your hands
And pray,
For yourself,
For others,
For me,
Stand and sing
For those who left,
Sing and stand
For those who stayed,
O human, live,
Live, O human,
Live.

On the Verge of

Tell not the mind about the palpitating heart
As it surfs freely onto its emotional waves,
Keep the logic at bay to feel a heatstroke,
Just once, and maybe give it a sunburn, too,
Something that would bring joy after sunset,
Like an aromatic summer sun-kissed morning,
A breakfast to my longing lazy hazel eyes,
And as the world utters heart-full songs,
(An adventurous journey of many silences)
Mountains cry aloud many silences,
Waves crush wildly into many silences,
Thunderous lightening shocks many silences,
Until many silences shake the earths of our whispers,
A volcanic earthquake to erupt the
Palpitating heart while the mind is still at bay,
And then another heart-full song about
A hopeful journey of a dehydrating branch
Of a disillusioned tree that follows
The rotten stars into massive graveyards,
Tombstones carving elaborate false banners,
And as the morning cries many more silences:
Sacrificial ones, peaceful ones, hopeful ones,
Ones that would rehydrate that particular branch
Towards the heavens to soar over clouds of bliss.