Slinging scribbles

Its a quad circle I live in, That travels back and forth only to be leave behind what I put forth, Its a quadrilateral maze I live in, travelling in squares, living in circles. The epiphany is ethereal, whether sickness that is subliminal, or pain but trivial, So is my joy, euphoria as over as it started early. Its a polygon that has caused its delight, joining four but seems four thousands! Earlier, to my play was a symphonic delight, Violin that purged and beguiled, Now its the country music, Mandolin that purges and beguiles. I call thee, my mother, make my promises full. I call thee, my father, make my payments full. My sister, I call thee too for sweet tales and long discussions. To me its a tale that's passing time. A symphony of incomprehensible relations, Musical quad that I love to live in, Rhymes only when I would love to, Otherwise, merely a circle that happens over and over again.  

The world started with a womb and it grew bigger, From the words 'given' to 'make', relationships were made, Solitary confinements were reduced and yet pursued, As we knew, so did we forgot, What's for us and what we could accumulate, Eventually to the need, we all succumb, That's the only hay that we make. Its a meaningless trail, to find meaning and mean the findings, For we find nothing but a vapid play of emotions and drives, No cry will last, no smile will ever fade, Its a psyche's call, cycle byfar, Till the last breath and then again, the womb till it grows bigger......

We are that weather, Rain by now, noon by then, Light absent, light present, Still classified by the months they make. She made a call, she touched my chord. Clouds, they gathered, solemn yet bliss for the plants, I know how it will end, but it must not matter, What matters is what makes both happy, the leaves and the rain. We don’t live in time, we love in time, Says, the plant, dried by noon, In life, we must enjoy not one, but company, Like the wind, sun, cold and not just rain. Its rhythm by noon. It’s a thought pouring sun, Its music calling soul. Its rhythm. Its noon…… I thought I would stop, Like the rains for they did, I found my joy, I wrote still, Like them, they found their mirth.

Do you know its colour? That which resembles you or you like the resemblance. Do you know if its a curtain of prayers? Just hymns and sings as it passes by your veins. I believe its love but it resembles none and epitomises beliefs. Strange to call it a name, isnt it? Is love a feeling or an emotion? Do we feel the emotion or do we emote the feeling? What comes first? Or simply what stays till the very end? Is it then a memory? So then, love is in the air! But is it not a virtue? Arent we supposed to acquire the quality? So then, why limit it to one for we were born religious, who said love is for all! So if it was for all and not for few, pray, tell me, how does it remain a virtue? Or is it that all possess love but do not share it all? Then, it very well be wealth! For we remain born misers by nature. So is it a desire after all? The desire to be loved, by one or by all? Or maybe by one who loves you like all of them never could? Maybe then, its a desire to be lo...

Obsessed and obstinate, holy as a cow, meek as a mouse, surrendered like a coward, mocked by a bitch; rather like a bitch! Albeit dreams imitate a lion, like shores beyond those horizons; but say, U stopped and might as well will stop me. If only for a while? How ruthless, a stop. How crude a thought, But, say no importance. Still an aftermath? Look, look, look, time play! Seems the seventh knot never knitted, shall it matter, No? Like those six, like the seventh!

While sitting down on a not so bright morning to write something, I secretly hope no one reads yet gives me a source to pour my juvenile feelings. I suddenly reminisce about the moments which made me happy then and yet have the force to trouble me now as I write them. The surprise drizzling in the morning doesn't make my nostalgia feel lazy but on the contrary, it awakens me from my slumber. My heart feels heavy as the hazy day reminds me of the time when my school reopened. I clearly recall having asked my mom, "Mom, why does the school reopen at a time when such a lousy morning is tempting me to sleep?" Quite used to my futile tantrums, Mom just rolled her eyes in disgust to the inane question, making her displeasure known. I immediately got up from my bed and began to think of all the possible ways of missing the first day. I thought, "Its raining cats and dogs and am praying the providence to bestow its kindness on my feeling and make it impossible for t...

i grew up to forget the pain or ignore it but not now.i wish you would look at me,tell me am ignoring my food with a caring voice,for once take me in your palms for half a minute everyday and tell me am the most wonderful thing that happened to you but looks like the water has receded and the time has already passed for another rain!i want you to ask me how my day went and appreciate the fact that am on my own though its not a big deal,i know...i know your struggle is impeccable and its second to none but am ordinary,i hope you know me.i understand you have a job to keep and its important to leave on time but i want you to be home before sunset.i feel lonely and i cant tell you how much i need someone to complete me.i have had various setbacks from the society when  i tried to seek love,i hope you remember one of them.i love it when you share with me  your struggles and how much you praise someone's kids and am sure you will end within their vicinity but i hope someday it will...