Ghosts…

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Yeah…

They live in my closet,

And yours too,

Don’t they?

 

There are nights, when I wake up,

Lying in this pool of sweat,

Or… is that blood?

I never chose to know…

 

Those eerie nights, I hear then growl,

Or… is that, their kind of a scream?

I never chose to know..

 

They must stare at me, from the creek and crevice,

Of the worn wood,

To know that, I am trembling with fear,

To know that, they need to howl,

Sing those tears.

 

There are days when I hear them knock,

Knock on my mind,

Knock me, off my ground,

In a ditch of worms,

Eating me up.

 

Perhaps… they’ve been dead since the dawn of the last summer,

But they are waiting for me,

To bury them,

… And, what am I waiting for?

The night of the next winter?

 

They are dead, yet alive enough,

To have an appetite,

To fantasise a feast,

the want… to feed on my soul.

 

They are dead, yet alive enough,

To be ridiculed for their deeds,

To be cursed for the gore,

Yet… to be called a part of my heart,

The corpse of a dead Ghoul.

Folly…

Deep…

Deep down in my heart;

Buried in my soul;

Are the truths to my lies…

 

Lies…

Those lies which I hurl;

Hurl at the world,

When folks try to sneak in,

Through my lamenting eyes;

Seeking the way to my vulnerable

heart…

 

Vulnerabilities…

They are an enigma, aren’t they?

 

In this world, we conspire…

Force people to bare their fragility;

But strive to armour ours…

 

We…

We are fools…

And the pursuit of power and strength;

That’s our folly…

 

The bait in the rat race,

Is nothing…

But, the most splendid of all the lies,

That ever escaped the mouths of the “Wise”…

 

For… the forts;

They were never our strength,

But a futile attempt, an illusion…

Played at the invader,

An attack on his frailty…

 

For… Not even a single ounce of blood,

Was shed for victory…

But… we bled our way to the doomed oblivion,

Just to run away from defeat…

Masquerade

Studded with gems, crafted with gold.

A lustre so bright… the moon held an intent to conspire the world against it.

A smile so kind… the ink stopped bleeding praises for a mother’s heart.

Eyes so deep… no man could quieten his curiosity to explore the mystic realm behind.

No sculptor’s hands would have dreamt of carving a nose so sharp.

The brow screamed the wisdom that the charming silhouette promised to behold.

It was a mask… Oh! So fine!

It must have taken the nobility of a prince.
It must have taken a heart, as pure as ash… to be honoured with such an adornment.

Or, so the world believed… until a harsh blow of wind claimed rebellion and knocked the mask off.

The crime was “Contempt of the royal visor”…

The wind wasn’t guilty…

But, the appalling sight that followed, it poisoned the air.

It was a corpse for a face.

Deep dark ditches for those beautiful eyes.

A long sharp thorn for the finest of the noses.

A rotten scab for that skin of gold.

Folks yelled curses, hissed at the ghoul.

Babies wailed with fear as they hugged their mothers.

“To boycott and shun the guest of dishonour”, was the court’s way to bring justice.

The trial would have been the ghastliest of them all…

Only if, another masked man wouldn’t have stepped into the arena.

Only if, another gleaming piece of gold wouldn’t have inebriated the eyes of the rank and file.

‘cause, who frowns at the evil when they get to gasp for the artistry.

The world has a way to forget justice for glory.

That book…

That rugged and withered wooden door…it stood in front of me as it greeted my somber mask… A mask, my soul wore with pride.

My hand reached out for the door knob and rested at it for a while.

I stared at my hand….with eyes hollow enough to engulf the world around me.

Paying my due respects to the time I wasted for this inane ritual, I tightened my grip and opened the door…. closing my eyes, for…I expected to meet a sharp and piercing glare.

But… Rather…I was welcomed by ostracizing darkness.

I stepped inside the room, unknown to the world that lay ahead.

My fear would have paid the merchants well… The room lit up, as bright as a jovial day… as soon as I stepped in.

I was in the middle of a sea of books… both, bulky and thin.

Yes… It was a library… except, this one wasn’t preaching me some modern science. They called it, “The library of life”.

A book called me out. It was the frailest of them all… Its cover was as dark as nothing.

I pulled it out. The cover refused to share an essence to the wisdom ahead, hence… tempting me to dive into the book.

I followed suit, out of grave curiosity.

A cruel flash of light fell on my eyes, forcing me to turn my face away.

The mystic gleam, soon, faded away… and, I… I dared to look at the only page.

It was, but, a mirror.

Engraved at the top, was a sentence that must always echo in my head…

“For once, you may challenge the facts, but the wise don’t question ordeal.”

That was the greatest book of them all.

It compelled me to read myself.

The sinners…

The thunder is the sinner… It sins to defy the clouds. It roars for the agony, yells curses at the gloom.
And oh! How the world gasps at the sight of that war!

Those tiny drops of water… the ones to abandon the magnificence of the heavens… the ones to fall on the loathed and barren fields. They will be cursed for their compassion!

Those clouds… those cruel and audacious clouds, they just deprived the world of its light. They dared to contempt the sun. They will be doomed with the wrath of coward hearts… The ones who are scared of the dark.

These winds… they must be held for causing bereavement. They left another house in drought. They left the thirsty throats suffering… dry and choking… to bring rains to another land of arid torture.

All of these… they are sinners.

Guilty…

They must be sued…

For caressing the wounds of the broken hearts…
For bringing love to the despised…
For bringing peace to the devastated…
For bringing hope to the forlorn…

That is how the world works…
We need to follow the law of the land…

The battle…

It was a dark and lonely night.

The sky would have been a vision to behold with all the lovely stars, and a bright full moon…. if…. only if, it wasn’t bequeathed with an awning of heavy storm-ridden clouds.

The air was taught… It prophesied a demonic storm.

There I was, beside the lake… kneeling down.

My arm bled…body covered in scars and bruises.

My hand, pressed against my chest as I gasped for breathe.

My eyes squinted as the pain rendered me numb and senseless.

Everything seemed like a blur.

In front of me, my sword had lain for years, waiting for me…. desperate for victory.

It was a blade of Honor, it shone with brilliance, a luster like no other…. except, now, its shine was a gleam of crimson…for…it was now drenched in blood.

I gathered my strength. My body lost its power, but …. I couldn’t have lost my desire to conquer.

I stood up… Limping….my legs quivered.

My hands clinched around the hilt of the blade.

I swayed it, in all the ways known to my kind…. like a sloshed fool … hoping to kill my rival, once and for all.

But…alas, the knights of obscure wisdom shouldn’t dream the dreams of their reign.

Another sword came flashing, piercing through the air. The assailant aimed at my calf and knocked me down.

I was lying there… helpless… grunting curses at the silhouette of my enemy.

Suddenly, the clouds withdrew their rebellion.

The Moon enlightened the world… revealing the face of my opponent.

It was me.

I hated myself.

 

Beauty…

These roads, they have never known peace.

“Quiet and calm”, no poet dares to gift these words to his lover.

Yes…his lover…the fuel to his art… Life.

My feet have sores, I walked barefoot for years…but I won’t dare to caress them…for…my rendezvous with this pilgrimage hasn’t borne any fruit yet.

Every lonely night, I stare at the stars and think. Aren’t we all travelers?… Vagabonds… The delusional vagabonds!!

No place called home has ever been warm enough for cold nights.

No lake could wash away the filth and dirt off our soiled silhouettes.

We, are all misers.

Life is a sorceress, we fall for its magic.

Life is the mistress in this facade of beauty.

A dawn ago… I halted to hear some songs of praise for her highness.

The singer hailed loud and clear,

“Everything “life” is beauty!
Everything “death” is beauty too!!”

My heart smiled and blurted out loud,

“Then why does my soul yearn for peace!?”

Lifeless….

I was lying there. Still. Lifeless. Numb….yet breathing.

With a body, curled up…. curled up like a fetus, waiting for light to dawn upon her untouched body.

But….with a body, cold…. cold as a dead and stale corpse, waiting for the ferocious hungry beasts to take away what death left behind.

With eyes, wide and open…. wide and open as they tried to make sense of the warm whispers in my ear, prophesying a life longer than I would want.

With a brow, frowned…. frowned to greet the thought of filling my lungs with the poisoned air…. poisoned with crippling regrets.

I was tired. Exhausted.

My eyelids felt heavy, like they weighed pounds. So, I allowed them to fall and shut the world away…. for…. I wanted to explore my world, the realm within.

But alas, torment doomed over my joy.

I found myself standing in a cage of glass, a cage that I built for myself over these years of agony….

Within no time, I was out of breath.

I was helpless, running my hands over the four glass walls.

I would have cried for help…. but the dark is cursed to be deaf.

I would have broken the glass…. but I crafted it to be unparalleled.

My lungs ached, I was choking….my body lost its power and my heart lost its hope. I surrendered to the fate that I chose for myself.

I was lying there. Still. Lifeless. Numb….yet breathing…. for…. I learnt to breathe in, on my emptiness.

That fire…

When I walked through….

Fallacy…

The heat of these dancing flames… it feels like a taunt at my crimson wounds.

The sly scarlet mocks my fears…as I stand here, in front of this great wall of fire.

These flames…they rejoice their might, they celebrate their terror.

They laugh when they prosecute the innocent, they frown when the kids smile.

They take pride in their eternal reign…for…this fire has been burning since the first child cried for hunger…
For….this fire will burn….till the last man begs the heavens for death.

A trail of sweat trickled down my quivering spine. I misunderstood, believed it to be the silent cry of my dying soul.

But, rather…it was the elegant hail, yelled out by my enslaved ego. A song of praise for the devouring power.

My friend…. don’t fall for the trickery of her highness.

She’s not here to pull you into a warm hug when the cold world haunts you. No….!!

“Humanity is a virtue”, they say…

But… she is the fire of greed.

You are either as cruel as her….

You are either a slave to her….

Or….you are nothing at all….

Hearts to console…

Fallacy…

When I walked through….

I pushed the door aside and rested my foot on the ground, in hopes of finding fresh and young grass, waiting for me, excited to tingle the sole of my feet!

I pushed the door aside and took a deep breath, in hopes of finding a sweet and flowery scent, waiting for me, excited to warm my heart!

I pushed the door aside and slowly opened my eyes, in hopes of adoring the beauty of nature, waiting for me, excited to calm my senses!

But…I found myself standing in the middle of spiny scrubs, thorns piercing through the sole of my feet; the rotten smell filled my heart with agony; the carcass that made me feel eerie!

They said… this was, once, a paradise!
They said… they are sorry for not showering it with love!

My heart cried for the forgotten paradise!
My soul wailed for the bereaved hearts!