Slinging scribbles

I can afford to let go, Even if it means letting love go and inviting pain, For I have been burnt when I was bright, or I thought. Its the pain that was stronger then, now it doesn't matter, For I lived in influence that made me strong, Its a habit to breathe gimmick, Its a soul song to smell foul, Some things are to be seen and remembered, To be reminisced for their beauty, Somewhere lost in gaining strength and travelling afar. Being akin to show-off the strength and so being used to it, Love makes me weaker, so much that I do not need it anymore. I can afford to leave and let go, For I had no choice to decide once upon a time, long ago...

Sitting on a leaf, thin, light, weak, not me, its the leaf, Its tender, carrying a baggage, treading cautiously, not the leaf, It might break, it does; it might fall, it doesn't, its just me, Breaks at monotony, suffers at the stroke of impatience, but its the leaf that guards, not me. Stories that have turned old, experiences that have turned sour, Nothing that surprises anymore, not to the leaf, not to me.  The tragedies of future have already been eroded by insecurities, As the leaf is living, leading, carrying, driving my speck. The speck is just a synonym for space and time, Tiny yet a black hole, clinging to the leaf like a body to a soul, Let's name the leaf, shall we? Or is it just a mystery for both, 'you' and me. There is a sudden euphoria, a strange mirth in floating and flying with a leaf, There is no achievement and yet there is accomplishment. Its me and my leaf, or perhaps its just me.

As I grow up I realize we are growing up and falling down, Sun that rises high and sun that falls down, Waves gushing, waves surrendering, Lives pushing, love dying, I wonder who all are winning? But is there enough time? Tell me there is for I see no pause, Its mundane, the dichotomy of living two faces while seeing none, Not a moment's lore to hear the tales, the introspection to change, Bearing me, its only me, who will find 'I' and only 'me'. Its the 'i' tune, Its 'my' book, Hear that voice, hear ego tell, Tale tinkering tragic trap. Moment's silence draped by sulky dreams, broken beams, Wind that passes by surprisingly, blows with fists, There is nothing good for its obsessive to not appreciate, For there is a fall, there is no rise, there is an 'I', where there is no 'Us'.  

Its about the idyllic girl whom I met in my college, Who swayed with her heart and touched many a hearts. Its about a feather who separated to fly high and rise till sky, The cradle that bends a king never leaves its sheen, Immersed it is, like a passionate soul, like a diamond's glow, To call what is its very own, surrender to none, numero uno! What else could one make out of her valiant combats? Fate surrendered her to return her relationships, success and failures alike. Ajlal, you conquer none but yourself with your incandescent smile, With your blackberry fervid eyes, with your undying spirit and age like wine, May you behold success and marry happiness, Like another day, another year, as you turn remarkable ruby, Like your melodious voice, a nightangle's lucid sign, like... Like again and again I turn helpless to enslave your personality in my treacherous sport!

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.

~ haiku ~ Rigor to escape the past, the lives that led the confused mass, dirt washed yet stains remain.

While walking a walk, Grabbing a talk, Snatching a pause, Life, sure surprise me. Madness breaks the monotony of mind, Madness as is not normal, nonetheless normal, Its simple, quite unnecessary If you surprise me, life. On a boulevard, I want mist, white froth, I want my eyes blindfolded, I want oblivion, I want peace, But only if it surprises me. I want many roads although I will take one, Even if there's only one, I wish to believe I have many, If there are many, I hate to see their destinations, Life, hear my cry, surprise me. Books, relationships, food, stationaries, None off late provide that touch, Lover bequeathed only a month ago, The surprise is over, have you any new? It doesn't matter, good or bad, For I learnt they were just terms Created wildly, stupidly Only to spoil surprises. I create, destroy, paint, bruise, Mind seldom wrestles for a rest, I seek happening, I seek not divine, For me, the divine is happ...