Funeral!

“Droplet of words

Collected over time

Hardened enough

To withstand

The wrath of silence

Placed carefully

one upon another

Erecting a tomb

For

The beloved scream

Who died

Isolated, stranded

In that grave

Haunted of its own

Unable to escape

Walls of the days

Built around

Thick enough to

Suffocate

passing by nights

And strangle

The leftover darkness

Kept hidden

Beneath those eyes

Wide awake

Watching themselves

Being stoned

By the rocks

Made of blank papers

Carrying stains

Of tears

And leaving behind

A trail of withered solitude…”

Tragedy of Wanderer

Scribbling:

Tragedy of Wanderer:

“As if one must have something to identify with. Be it language, color, religion, nation, tradition, culture and the list continues to habits and interests. What defines our existence is not our intellectual capability but our ability to carry on the legacy of animalistic past of having an identification as a must to survive in the jungle where only rule that applies is survival of fittest and fit are only those who could make themselves a part of something, and hence the primordial struggle or rather conspiration to form and break them. There is no individual existence, having nothing to identify with. You don’t exist as a phantom, with a mask or blank papers. Ask god, even they could not, alas! 

Mirage…!

“I could feel

our love

like a droplet of rain

upon bare skin

on a hot summer afternoon

I could feel it

Like the smell of

Dust, dry soil

Being drenched in rain

As if I was being drenched

In your smell

I could feel it

Like the lazy sunshine

On a Sunday morning

Sneaking inside

Taking a peek

Kissing you softly, and

Watching you watch it

Melt, drown in your embrace

I could feel you

Like a vague dream

Lucid enough to be believed

Being real, a mirage…”

Praveen parasar

18/06/2017

Existence!

Droplets of time

Rolling down

cheeks of space

drowning the shadow

in abyss of darkness

while weight of gravity

feels too much to hold

the universe explodes

here and now

there and then

initiates a tragedy

inflating itself

engulfing it all

until a moment

where it gets to meet

its nemesis

there exists

a melancholia so deep

which dries the sea of time

and soaks the flesh of space

and buries the gravity deep

beneath its own weight

where nothing exists

neither a birth

nor a death

where day is a prisoner

of its own dilemma

and night wanders around

drunk

where the darkness

offers glimpses

into

void of emptiness

there lies

deserted graves

carrying fragments of chaos

filled with

an absolute

nothingness

as if left behind

awaiting salvation

asking passer-by

‘here, come and rest

in silent abode of dead’

In that moment

Which brings

death in bits of life

life in chunks of death

and a few drops of tears

to quench

the primordial thirst, alas!”

Praveen Parasar

14/06/2017