Slinging scribbles

Tears and drops, Rain and props, Both jingle, not necessarily mingle, Rickety ricket, crockety crocket! Tears and drops, Rain and props, Who the fuck surrenders? Criminals with fame or guns with holders! Dance a little, before you get killed, Either by your brethren, or by terrorists, Either way, drop a little tear; Jingle and mingle, with your life! Look how far we have come, Judging people when we are nude, Neither am I, I nor are you, you, Who cares, lets just blame it on the migrants. Tears and drops, Rain and props, Smile a little, disguise and belittle, Vagaries and orgasmic virtual; spent the entire day solving a riddle! Tears and drops, Rain and props, What a beautiful world we live in, We forget that the world is round and so is orange, so live with that reality!

I think about the lady I met when I was a child, wandering houses carrying an idol applying vermillion on foreheads as she passed by, I had nothing to offer, neither to her not to the deity she carried in a golden plate. Yet we would fall in queue knowing there was something for each of us, a pinch of red colour on our forehead! I miss seeing her! Her face reminds me of innocence I lost at a time I can't remember anymore. Her eyes spoke highly of me but my naivety was never meant to appreciate her unrequited kindness. I miss seeing her! And I fear, how many such lives remain where I bargain without knowing I made one. For I travelled places only to realise I belong to the only place I longed, whereabouts unknown! I wonder if places and people mean the same. That reveries overwhelm us about our past, that we ran not knowing it would catch up with our present, that it points us to people or places that we are likely to lose in future! How fortuna

Hear those voices? Deep inside you, dark outside, but a dimly lit witty witchroom. Static objects that scream within you, smile, perform, talk, watch, nap, zap and yet the clock doesn't tick,  Clinging branches that have gone astray, blood cringing battles that are celebrated in vain, balloons in the air, baboons everywhere, jingoism enjoyable in despair.  List of emotions, tragic denominations, currencies of trash, klitsch creepy crap, smuggling in drain, dreams and disdain, develop and negate, brush and bray; the world smiles and says, 'its beautiful'.  Humans regurgitate; if only powers could behave, snuggle in pain, demand some love but die masturbating in brain!

I wish you could listen, when I schmooze about your anecdotes, but not to you, I certainly wish you would listen, when women I meet know more about you, for I have told them about how beautiful you are! For beauty is synonymous with you. I certainly wish you could listen, to the countless talks I shared in my reveries, where we mocked at distance and made it look short, where I also said I love you a thousand times! People come and go, rivers dry and flow, but true lovers meet just once, and what follows is history! I wish to write one, I seek to cherish the run, so hold it, Sam, when you find none, for only the page has turned! I pray you listen, just so you know we have begun a new chapter.

An unlikely bond between a cheese and a chalk, Like two indivisible primes, and yet like five and seven, came together to form one and two. Dressed as wanderers and truth seekers in a place bounded by time, lived a fairy tale of friendship and goodbyes. We bonded over need, but in short time needed the bond to survive, Disguised as travelers, sometimes, as connoisseurs of art, performed different roles over a sea of tete-a-tetes, I ran into a particle that left as a storm! You described the journey in your letter and left for your destination, Me? left with time but hardly any patience! Now, I shall blame you for writing the better part and leaving me to describe the aftermath, For the alluring moments and effervescent experiences, for the enchanting mannerisms and exuberant mesmerism, as also the despot-like attitude and frustrating spontaneity! And you left! Like a wave that touched the shore and swept. Now, I have none, a void you cleverly envisaged! For this I

My search for meaning goes on. With variables, scattered and atoms, gathered. I see students going for a class, colleagues meeting at workstations, all of us have a strange momentum to complete five days, to live in oblivion for the two days of the same week. Perhaps, we move to our shell, to find our purpose, sure! I am clueless, unaware, naive! Then to make matters worse, I have different types of purpose, Larger, if I have made it! Smaller, if I have to say it! That way, I would be seen with a purpose, bright! I do my bit, here and there, but its all seemingly vain or plain. How cultivated, falsely motivated, truly corrupted beautiful creation am I? I log in, log out; sign in, sign out; look and overlook, perhaps the mockery till the vapid waves find its stream. I have a feeling I wont and I will repeat these actions till I burn; bright!