Tragedy of Wanderer

Scribbling:

Tragedy of Wanderer:

“He wanted to destroy himself. Destroy as if to wipe away any trace of his trails, which he feared would bring attention to his attempts of silly escape out of sacred obligations and words would find him half-way again, running away, naked, drunk, hallucinating upon nothing but thin air. He felt ashamed every time upon being caught while trying to flee leaving behind echoes of screams scattered around, broken pieces of left-over nights, only to be accused by them of being a shameless attention seeker, who would go to any length to be advertised prostituting himself through his failing, falling escapades. He was a labeled outcast who must not be allowed to let himself disguise beneath his rotting flesh and fading shadows.”

Allegory of solitude!

“Of all those mundane nights

Crawling through stifling days

And a yearning for emancipation

Deserted along the blank spaces

Carrying heaps of broken words, and

A desperate attempt to give them a meaning

Meanings! As if a mere hallucination

The words turning into a monster

Swallowing one into the void

A few drop of ink

a few drop of blood, and

blurred horizon of dirtied pages…”

Praveen Parasar

02/12/2017

Tragedy of Wanderer

Scribbling

Tragedy of Wanderer:

“There are moments which are closer to us more than the others, the music which speaks to us more than others, the night which are sacred more than others and few of those words which appear be the savior, the only one every time we look up to all those words in thesaurus. What could it tell us about ourselves, he always wondered. Does it mean we are more like ourselves at certain moments or it just we celebrate pour exaggerated self at certain moment more than other. This conflict between different aspect of the self was what started to diluting his glasses while he desperately tried to get drunk only to find himself more and more vulnerable and at the mercy of gods, gods he had decided not to romanticize anymore while he prepared himself to rival them. He felt as if begging to words such as longing, solitude, darkness, void, abyss, the night, Oh… begging them to come forward and accept his meek proposition and all he could find were a few of scattered adjectives and prepositions, all in front of a trail of ruins which could have been a castle of words…Alas!

The insignificant man…

 

"The insignificant man

Carrying around

apathy abound

Along with heaps of

Angst and hatred

Thrown upon

While walking past

The garden of significance

Carefully watered

Aesthetically implanted

Upon the barren lands

Of hypocrisy, and indifference

Such contrast to notice

While

Shrill voices

Curses, chases away

The insignificant man

The insignificant man

Running away

Holding onto

Long list of if and buts

And wondering

Confused, hesitant

To add another of the same

Obsolete what-ifs

While

Hiding behind

The walls of

See-through wants

While

A little beyond

lies a secret graveyard of

murdered demands

The insignificant man

Must not stop

Being insignificant

even at the danger of

being labeled

significant

Alas…!”

Praveen Parasar

11/11/2017

The act…

 

“it’s the night

and one must give up

the act of acting

as if doing something

performance must be halted

echoes the chorus, only

to simply lay down

and act of acting

as if not doing anything

performance must be continued

echoes the void, only

to leave one

at the mercy

of that ever monotonous

watches

hanging at the wall

carrying around the corpses

of time

which appears

to have run out of its own time

desolated and deserted

its screams

lost

in the hollowness of

its own tick-tocks

while the night continues

to grow

into an abyss

deep enough

to engulf the

unsuspecting day

at the other end…”

Praveen Parasar

11/10/2017

Metamorphosis…!

“Devoid of people

Those buildings

appear

As if

vague memories

Fading

in its own grandness

Which fails to recognize

The occupants

Sooner or later

Standing still

indifferent

Amidst the ruins

Where screams of

Trampled nights

And made-up days

Turns them slowly into

A macabrish corner

Carefully quarantined

To keep away

What is wanted no more

Until a chaotic attempt

Of someone

to fill it

to inhabit

the uninhabitable

to grieve upon

to mark it as one’s own

as if a broken graveyard

one digs in desperation

only to end up adding his own

version of bruised breaths

Alas! for

Beyond those hurried recognitions

And forceful recollections, to reclaim

those buildings

instead now appears

As if a ghetto

carrying

people, wanted no more.”

Praveen Parasar

22/10/2017

Search

“Looking for a moment of silence

Long before I fall, dead

Long before silence encompasses me

Engulfs me, overwhelms me

Looking for a moment of silence

Long before I fall, deaf and blind

Long before the darkness turns into an abyss

Of an ever growing void

A cursed spectator, a spectre

Looking for moment of silence

Long before the silence itself lays bare

To haunt me of its nakedness

To seduce me, tempt me

Make me scream, drown me

In my own dirty exaggerations, intentions

Leaving me at the mercy of the days

Scattered around, trampled upon

Looking for a moment of silence

As if to taste the death

A distant glimpse, an introduction

Long before I fall, addicted

Long before the longing kills me

Buries me in the depths of

My hollow conscience, empty volitions

Sacred fears and cheap regrets

Looking for a moment of silence

Long before I rest in peace, alas...”

Praveen Parasar

03/09/2017