Blog Archives


Sometimes, sometimes,
I think about what could be,
Would be or what should be,


Sometimes, sometimes,
I think about the choices,
Secret vices and the voices,


Sometimes, sometimes,
I lose myself in the music,
electronic and acoustic,


Sometimes, sometimes,
I stare at the canopy of the sky,
Beautiful sober, marvelous high,


Sometimes, sometimes,
I think about her green eyes,
Deep as Nile or like a moon rise,


Sometimes, sometimes,
I think about her green eyes,
Her imminent betrayal, her lustful lies,


Sometimes, sometimes,
I think about ending it,
Faking it and pretending it,


Sometimes, sometimes,
I want to grow wings and fly,
Courage to defy gravity and deny,


Sometimes, sometimes,
I think about the infinite earth,
Rewind life back from death to birth,


Sometimes, sometimes,
Times are difficult and hard,
Lethally wounded and scared,


Sometimes, sometimes,
Close your eyes and feel,
Someone to tend you and heal,


Sometimes, sometimes,
Someone might try to become the one,
Bringing some joy in life and some fun,


Sometimes, sometimes,
You let your guard down,
Joker dressed up as a clown,


Sometimes, sometimes,
Twisted emotions just take a hold,
Going off script, not doing what you’re told,


Sometimes, sometimes,
Life is a fairy tale,
Sitting with a pint of ale,


Sometimes, sometimes,
Life is not a fairy tale,
You may fall and often fail,


Sometimes, sometimes,
Someone could use a hand,
Needing your help to stand,


Sometimes, sometimes,
Do good without a reward,
Pen is mightier then the sword,


Sometimes, sometimes,
Stop and sit and ponder and think,
Close eyes and open them to blink,
As I lay some truth down in these verses,
Infinite creations in infinite multiverses,
Yet here you are a conscious being,
All observing, all seeing,


Sometimes, sometimes,
I think about what could be,
Who I would be? who I should be?



Eenie, meanie, minie, mo,
Guess who’s back with a brand new poem, bro!   

And I dont mean poem as in words put in rhymes,
It has to have a meaning, a context, these are different times,

You get a thought in your head,
The deeper meaning of words said,

You think about the power of words in the message you send,
Sometimes following the rules, sometimes starting a new trend,

A poem is the singing of your mind,
Reflections on your current life and of what you left behind,

Its a timeless wonder, open to interpretation, an immortal being,
About your life, past, present and future, what your mind is seeing,

There is no limit on it, no one to hold you back,
The saints are extinct, there is no white and black,

The best poems are about existance, the human feeling,
What love and life gives, what loss and death are stealing,

Sometimes you write for others but sometimes it’s just for you,
Sometimes about the breakups and for the love which was true,

Sometimes about politics and issues of life,
Sometimes about happy endings and a loving wife,

Sometimes about desires and dreams,
Sometimes about the hurt and screams,

But the truth is that writing is your savior and grace,
It gets you through the hardships that you face.


When the future is fogged in mist and the bridge is burnt, who do you turn to for help, who will be your savior now? You wander about mindlessly and lost, abandoned by everyone. You doubt your decisions, your choices, everything that brought you here, here at the end of world. You see the your life flash in front of your eyes, the memories, ah the memories. You pretend to have no regret but its a fasad, a defence mecchanism, a lie. You regret alot. When you look into your past you dont see yourself, atleast not the person you are now, you see some other guy, someone who is in peace and happy, whose mind isnt always racing, asking, pondering, questioning, going against the norms, no, no, you see a guy who followed his customs, his traditions, his social obligations, his religion, an activist, who used to make speeches in halls about patriotism and in mosque about purpose of life. It all seems a distant memory now. You are not what you used to be, you changed. In the beginning it was just for fun, you would start rhyming words and making poems from them, silly lines which made little to no sense, but you liked playing with words. The words made you feel special. But the words started coming to you more often, the rhymes started to make sense, you started seeing the pattern in nature, you started thinking, you started pondering, you began your search for Truth. Poems started having deeper meaning, you started questioning everything, your society, your culture, your religion. Your mind began the singing, simpler things got complicated, your goals in life got mixed up, you got messed up. Life became one big poem, you became an observer, you started playing this game, you started playing with people. You liked it, it made you feel powerful, made you different, unique in some way and you liked the feeling. You kept diving deeper and deeper in this ocean of emotions and you liked it. You wrote about it, some for other people but mostly for yourself. You started worrying about your legacy, your place in the grand scheme of things, your value to the universe. You wanted to leave something behind for people when you are gone. You started thinking of death alot. It excited you. But you couldnt just trust nature for your death, it had to be you. It would be more poetic, you thought. You finished your novels, and you connected your short stories. Connecting them became an obsession. It all had to be connected you told yourself. It all came from your mind and your mind was the connection between them. And now the canvas is complete. your work here is done. It is time, you told yourself. It is time to ascend out of this physical body with all the regrets, the bad choices, and decisions and the good memories. You put the pill in your mouth and swallowed it with a sip of water and your first chapter came to an end……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………