PRIMAL FEARS मूलभूत डर

1) The fear to pursue is primal,

 the fear to create is for writers. 

2) behold the Christ, let him die , by the Bible of being and Beethoven. 

3) Intellectual drought and intellectual narcissism are the two brothers of same mother, 

who is intellectual and different fathers, 

who both are dead and desolated. 

4) Priest says to perpetrator - do you believe in God? 

As if he himself does. 

The perpetrator replies- I genuinely do, but I only believe in crimes committed by God, in the form of poverty, war, animosity and patriarchy. 

5) Garb of God, is blind, 

Garb of the devil, rest in his mind. 

6) PRIMAL FEARS OF FATALITY IS THE COST WE PAY FOR NOT LIVING FULLY AND NOT COMMITTING GENUINELY. 

Leeza

ONLY MEN DIES, THE ANIMAL PERISHES सिर्फ इंसान मरता है ,जानवर नष्ट होता है |

सिर्फ इंसान मरता है ,जानवर नष्ट होता है |

1) The juggernaut of intellectual association of our end, makes our end - dismal, lucrative, and ingenuine with the intention that lack intent , inherently. 

2) Only man dies, the animal perishes and woman persists in their attainment of Demise. 

3) Death used to fascinate me, now I feel it has befriended me. 

4) All my life, I have been amused by the idea, to Die, never knowing that life is a death's game. 

5) Life and death used to be lovers, separated by the God's decision , that one comes only after the other and never together.

Without life, death is not possible and without death, life has no meaning. 

Leeza 

CUT THE CHASE OR THE CHOICE

1)It's is blasphemous to breathe with all the bogus bills that pass these days for Opportunistic vote bank politics.

2) Poverty is not always penury, but if we don`t have deep pockets, we would suffer with poverty of choice , ultimately. 

3) Waves of madness over waves of sadness is the way to do it. 

4) It's a marathon not a sprint, but only if I sprint through my marathon years. I would be able to get through it.

5) There is no better technique than doing and failing, doing & failing better & ultimately doing & not failing. 

6) Contemplation is the hobby of a slog. 

7) There is no freedom of choice there is only freedom of struggle, that we choose. 

THE INTERSECTIONAL CELEBRATIONS OF SOCIETAL CONTROL - SATIRE

THE INTERSECTIONAL CELEBRATIONS OF SOCIETAL CONTROL

We live in a type of society that hates making love to people, but loves bombing other nations. There is more modesty attributed to suicide bombers than to consensual intimacy. What is considered immodest is talking about rape, sexual assault, and harassment, but what is considered modest is silencing one’s voice when reporting them. What is celebrated is abstaining from intimacy before marriage, but what is considered disgraceful is not having children within two years of marriage, and what is not allowed is not trying to conceive again if you had a girl child , for the first time .

WHAT DOESN'T KILL YOU WOULD?

what doesn`t kill you will make you join a cult , that nobody knows about ,

 so you go ,

 bathe in blood & few bones from the ages of satire and red gem stones , 

that they throw  , 

so you take, an oath at that cult of choices , that once gave you chances 

Chances to fail and fear without noises, 

the fulcrum of feats that they lost now 

but you are the leader of that cult and that eccentric town. 

What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger

When you want to be softer and calmer

What doesn't kill you, makes you sophisticated

When you want to wiser and nicer,

What doesn't kill you makes you go around in circles

And come back with axes in the middle of the mayhem

To kill your emotions , to kill the constant dialogue 

What doesn't kill you makes you kill everyone 

What doesn't kill you makes you cautious in sight 

Cautious enough to never fully commit & try. 

So you let them kill yourself instead, 

Once with a blade, so you could see the Incision

Wide open, The gore of the battle was crimson & vicious 

And the act was the commitment of a crime scene that felt so audacious. 

So I can kill them and my anathema of the versions I have created of them in my mind

I am a writer and I write to desperately & indefinitely die 

But I chose to sleep instead, so they can kill me easily at least this very time 

No marks and no incision Of any kinds  

But they don't some how, what a missed opportunity to get the false crown . 

Guns in my bag and knives in my stack

All to kill myself, all to kill the versions of my better halves who make my worst self to come Out ? 

Not even eventually but constantly, everyone now then, 

Who to decide? 

Who to get the headgear of this insolent  pride? 

What did't kill them , 

Made them atrocious about our fights

That happened long ago

And I can see those too because I am the fan of what ifs in my mind 

I love the potential, 

but I am so afraid to even once be arduous enough to ever try

All this hurt but I never once cried

All this disgust but all my sleeps are fine 

To not end up together but not even never deny , 

It didn't kill me

It didn't treat me fine

Am I the wrong guy? 

Am I really into him this time ? 

But was I ever into any single one of them? 

So Let me write poems about my muses

I have lost the count of my bruises

Inherent stalemate, deadlock in their eyes

All my loses were some time before wise - vice choices, but no one has really been on my  choose list. 

Till the end of my lifetime

I think I am the lost daughter of an American Singer

You love or hate her 

Am I the Taylor Swift of 2029?

Because like her I don't have any partners in my craft or in crime. 

But I am afraid to be like her, 

all this damn time

What doesn't kill you, 

Comes back! Fool around and never really admit ! 

That killing is an immortal act and jail is not a career choice of bliss  

What doesn't kill you, 

Make you wake up in a psychiatric ward , 

What doesn't let you live, 

Would haunt you for your bloody life & make you starve Of course. 

There is no point of this damn life , 

But I see nothing really to ring a bell in my mind, 

So I join the cult , the cult of contentment

But I hear the Carcasses of insane rise 

From the graves , where gentlemen cries

From The gardens , where landlord loses their only child, 

From the place, where God is ungrateful to watch out the mediocrity of this mankind . 

A man is a man, a lady is a lady, 

A maniac is a maniac, an occultist is an occultist

But I am a poet, and I act like a prisoner

When I want to be a human, but I feel like a caged bird with lost sight . 

Where are my specs? 

Where are your honey truths sounding more like lies? 

What doesn`t kill you would make you own a cult very later in life, 

& then kill everyone of those who once joined , before the clock strikes 2:09.

But Let me at least properly try

Before killing everyone of these guys  

And change the augur this very time

So they don't put me in the asylum of assumptions

Where all my past lovers are my passion projects and potential guides

That leave me, on the foot steps of our very last fight. 

I wanna run, but I really wanna try

I wanna stand still, but can I please die? 

What doesn't kill you, 

Would put you in a long coma 

But what doesn't make you feel right in your gut 

Will surely make you silence your empathy & sit with your alchemist mind for a very long time 

Brooding the purposes of marriage & consummation when ultimately we all have to tolerate each other & die. 

So you would  develop a passion around your relationships and possible life what ifs 

And simultaneously forget to process the grief and forever pine , 

Sitting in the canopy of the pine tree

Loving your books & hating the boys 

" To be what you really wanted to be "

But all you ever wanted to be was the real choice of one damn guy . 

A worthy ideal that someone would try for, 

That something would die for

But isn't this a partial lie? 

Because the list is long and the line is longer 

So you pick and choose the best like your mother

But when you feel heard

All your pride dwindles

The wind settles in and the trees smile. 

The wind will take us away

The wind will clear our stay. 

What doesn't kill you, 

Would make you alive , 

From the graves of ghosts that you tamed for a while

What doesn't kill you, 

Makes you taste life twice and dine 

Even when it tastes sour and sweet at the very same time 

So you wanna run , like you are an abandoned child

What doesn't kill you 

Will be your weapon in disguise 

Will be your night in shining armor

Will be your friend in crowded corners. 

But the fact remains the same 

what doesn't kill you 

Will bleed in your skin & your bones for sometime,

to ultimately turn you into a great poet even without trying. 

What doesn't kill you,  

Would make them comeback to you ,

for you to eventually realize

That , none of them was ever worth your time.

Making you turn All Sacrosanct & bonafide.

Leeza

THE ALCHEMY OF SEPTEMBER

THE ALCHEMY OF SEPTEMBER

 

All my winter love commit suicide 

They burn so bright and die so quiet 

But you feel like the sunlight of the spring 

So I want to hold you tight

And this feel so right 

For now , somehow , maybe forever , oh my dearest lover 

Let me kiss you for hours , touch your face , in this dreamy weather 

You feel so warm, So calm , yet this love feels so wild 

even when you incur the disgraces of your un-productivities 

You belong to me, by my side 

You belong to me

I want to smile and kiss you goodbyes , to see you again in my dreams

You came to me like a fresh breeze of rain in September 

I still remember all our Septembers

but you were born in October, like a wild tamed flower 

You are the perfect start to all my autumns

You make me feel so much with so little

You go nowhere, you look at me stranded

And make me feel why was I so guarded ?

I am sorry for all of my atrocities 

I can never say no to all my damned curiosities 

You are my best friend in both words and action 

 I know you feel insecure and you have uncertainties

But I know you don`t fool around,

 I can feel your intentions are safe and sound

But I don`t want to hear about them tonight

I wanna see those in your eyes and in your ways 

Kiss me hard , kiss me hard , to make me cry 

So I can forget all my heart breaks and bad goodbyes and say 

I like you before I ever loved you ,

Its march and its raining again and we are in love since forever , 

Let me say this

I was so barricaded , when you gave me all that you have

A shoulder to cry, a heart to fail, a heart to fall

Be my lover, be my friend, but more than that, 

be by my side , I don`t wanna get weary of your ease

meet me late, but meet me to stay

meet me enough , so we can figure out our ways 

I like how you do that, I like how well you communicate,

I admire your patience, I admire your tragedies

Let me paint kisses around all the scars the world gives you

Let me write verses on our foreplays

Let me be your lover , let us be each other`s endgames

And let me confess this again, Even when we fight ,

 I would like you to stay 

Leeza

AN ORANGE SKY

ORANGE SKY

It rained and it rains
Eventually it fell down to my grave
The sorrow screams and the street lights dim
It rains and lets the water flow in my veins
I drink my wine
I stare at my skin at those stains
As it rains
But what about the sky before it eventually decides to weep its way ?
THE ORANGE SKY

The orange sky before it rains
I like looking up
Or just being there
The Crepuscular rays makes me feel the augur of something new
I feel the onset of the forthcoming downpour
And it turns my mundane day feeling like I am travelling like in a train
The orange in the sky, same as the smile in all of my cries
Makes my stomach feel the nostalgia of narcissism fade away
If I would be born again
I want to be born the days of orange skies and bylines


Put me in the casket of a basket and clean my ankles when I play
The Time is always between 4 and 5
And the days feel a little sweeter
I feel like hugging my mother, for longer
I feel like drinking tea one after another
It has not rained yet

The orange sky want to wait for me today
Color my agonies into solace
The reassurances have past 6 ,
The Ominous orange sky is at ease now
Rayleigh scattering is sulking all our pains away
A tea for my mother , tea for me ,
A tea for my late grandmother and aunty
I like it here , I like this day

The Eerie orange light waits , before saying goodbye
For me and for the dreams of an  insane
Sitting across the street of Peru
What a coincidence
La Nina on our ways
But I just want to Fletcherize more
To let the moments stay
The orange sky speaks to me
In spanish and I don't get it's ways
But I feel the poetry of mundane
I hear the clamour of the third tea being made
And the prattle of kids talking on the lanes of the drive away
Feels like childhood, marks of adolescence on my palm
Childhood has taken my age today
I am in my cradle now
Feels delightful, the EUDAIMONIA of Dorian Gray
The month is March, date says the 30 th, near to its end
The orange sky looks fading away
But the dusk-lit sky makes me reflect all my past plays
It goes and it vanishes under the clouds of weight
So now it rains and it rains ,
And I went in my room , to read book or two,
As the day looks the same ,
The amber sky is my seasonal best friend and I will wait for its dawn
Its doesn`t speak to me , in rush or in cacophonies
The genesis of the orange sky, paint my skin pink ,
I feel nostalgia in non wistful ways
Oh my orange sky , don`t die away
Oh my amber sky, let me convey
Oh my golden sky, when I was an only child , I went for you to play
Oh my orange sky ,I know you married your lover torrential rain.

LOVE IS A FATAL DISEASE

1) Let me love you , I love you , oh can I love you , am I allowed to love you , and talk to you , sheer non sense , sheer necessity .

2) Everything you do is from the place of fear and depravity , expecting abundance and courage  & that`s your folly my friend. 

3) Anyone who fear failures has mustn't incurred the regret of not trying.

4)There are some who can overcome most prejudices, 

there are a few who can overcome prejudices that benefits them ,

and there are almost non who give up the privileges concentrated with their prejudices that ease them but most ease their social quotidian to build a respectable reputation

Leeza

GOSPEL OF ILLIAD

1) After a point we rot our own life, in some ways, on most days .

2) The interregnum of post life catharsis does not involve death,
But does include re birth.

3) If I will die , in any sense
I will die, as a insane
And I will live, in any sense
I will live,  in my brain
And that's the reality of my pain
And that's the imagination of my Achilles illiad.

4) I fail to understand
That how I was born to fail enough
And I fail to comprehend
That I have only succeeded after failing enough.

5) Euthanize my will to live,
And prioritize my will to die,
Suggest me a movie to end my day
So I could escape life in sleep after I get weary of myself
But when I wake up again
Give me tea , most profoundly
To sustain the incur of this incident
That when my parents procreated
I was the only one who was born as an accident.

Leeza

I BURNOUT TO BELIEVE I CAN

1) The moment of instant departure from your forever longing would come many times
Leave my friend leave
No longing has to be forever
It ends once it ends

2) There is no courage in reliving the same innuendos of time again and again
Catharsis takes places when we wear the masks of obtrusive ambitions
And maddening desire and swing ourselves
To get it,
Everyday in every way.

3) Burnout, exhaustion and fatigue are not Failures
But my three dearest friends
I burnout better to recover better 

To come back to my other two friends rejuvenation and vitality. 

4) When the break become tedious
Come back to all your callings ,
Your yearning would be waiting there,
All intact and opulent to undress, from the very starting

5) I have to be a Satiricist everytime to get through it right
But I have to be a human, first to make everyone feel right,
So I chose to be a poet, to make myself feel right,
But I felt like banging my head against the wall of all my vernaculars
To upheald my emotions in line , tabular
And all my friends thought I was an amateur
But my writing speak my interests were always cosmologically secular. 

Leeza

LET ME UNALIVE MY FAILURE

1) Death is a utopia to living because when you are dead you can no more be critical of it because you are just dead. 



2) The ontological void of the matrix should not be fathomed but should only be riveted at. 

3) All my Innuendos are undeviating my innumerable failed attempts at trying to live a rational life . 

4) My Transcendental being sits on the grass beneath the sun and procreate peace , while my rational self sells her soul to sit on the work desk disposing tasks to others. 

5) What are the ramifications of an unlived life ? - I asked
Self condemnation stirred with fantasies of afterlife – she said. 

Leeza