Your Fort

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I hear the bell ring and your glorious visage,
From my murky, dingy lane where I have forged a home,
With cutouts and remnants of my trifling memories.

The hopes of love reckon me to walk,
Step out of my lane, shedding the insecurities,
Enter a shrine of refuge where my heart would be consoled!

But I heard it wrong and saw a mirage,
That alters at the trivial hint of disobedience,
And the loss of dominance, the shattering of power.

The bell was a death bell and the visage fake,
That lured me to your precious castle where the end lurks!



Hurting souls do hurtful things, they beat what they cannot bend!
For they have learned a single language of hurt themselves!
Their nasty words are treasured tools, their beloved weapons,
And their fists bestow a gleam of power where none exists!

But I have seen gentle souls carrying the baggage of hurts,
Yet their tools are loving words and healing hands!
Don’t mock me with your woeful tales, and your past of hurts,
You are what you chose to be, what you revel in!


Times Have Changed

Crawling letters spatter across my phone,
Recording the depths of my wavering moods,
Paper and pen used to do that once but times have changed!

And so have changed my feelings of love,
And the sense of hatred and justice,
So easily stirred once now stays dormant and quiet!

But other feelings so profound, my guilt and fears,
At every step, I question now if I am doing my best,
To nurture and care and create a safe world!

I chuckle at times how little emotions drove me mad,
Once when I was young that I choose to royally ignore now,
And my soul more precious to me than my face!

Or the faces of the people around and the ones I meet,
I try to see if they will hurt or nourish my growing soul,
For now, I have no time for foolish trickeries!


Let’s Stop Adulting

Let’s stop adulting and go back to that noon,
When we rushed to the sounds of airplanes above our head,
Waving goodbyes to traveling strangers
Confident they waved us back!
And join the crowd around the icecream stalls which still were far from the fancy ones we get now,
But the ones that painted our tongues in all hues of orange and red and blue and purple.
Let’s stop adulting and go back to those evenings when we chased fireflies,
And put them in those mason jars and giggled and laughed when they brightened our faces,
And to those chilly nights warmed by the little bonfires,
And me dozing in and out of sleep as my grandma’s voice
Felt like a lullaby sending me to a world of dreams!


My Stream of Consciousness

your priorities you show and I show my hunger
to stay alive and to breathe and to smile
while the heavy heart pulls me down hearing another tone of your voice
the voice that oscillates betweeen love and hate and hate and love
that my mind wonders if this is real
If you are real for it is hard
to hate and love and love and hate
at the same time for who does that
your priorities and I poles apart pulling and pushing
pushing and pulling our lives apart
as I start to think I mean the world and the stars and the moon
only to know and understand that I lay somewhere
in the millionth fraction of your heart just because I exist
for if i didnt exist no change to your world
no change to your existence