Unseen…!

"Every drop of tear

Which decided

Not to roll down

The face, scared

Ended up

Wearing down the eyes

Which were already fragile

Off the weight

The night carried

And yet, as if

Intimidated

Of being caressed

It surrendered

And sundered

though

It was a mere touch

It was more than

The weight of

All the vulnerable

identities, collected

Over several nights

And days too

Bits and pieces of

Screams

Broken down

While passing by

The frail trail

Of insecurities

Echoes of it

Crouching beneath

The skin

There lied one

Naked,

ashamed of being

Seen

Or just afraid

Of being there

Forever

Unseen….

Alas!"

Praveen Parasar

13/4/2018

Tragedy of wanderer

Scribbling:

Tragedy of wanderer:

“What better way to destroy yourself than to find a sense of pleasure in watching yourself destroy yourself, probably with so much of ‘yourself’ that the destruction is rather a cold follow-up routine than being a surprise or otherwise. The masochistic urge is rather appealing and no wonder if it succeeds often and without being tagged as grey as the sadistic counterpart, perhaps as it is about a mere solitary confinement, but is it? Probably turning away from it all was starting point or maybe it was just when nothing else seemed to make sense, or possibly it was just meant to be destroyed, an overwhelmed sense of self drenched in reason of why and why not, bogging down to weight of what-ifs while it could be nothing more than a mere narcissistic urge to narrate it all in a certain cosmetic language but what does it matter for it never makes any sense once you settle down to take a look of reason and find it all being a heap of mess, confused of its own identity, questioning its own existence. Being vulnerable is never meant to be an option and yet he came to believe he was the one who was the author of the script, or so said the narrative that ended on a rather familiar way. It all follows down the same path, gravity of impulse is too strong to carry the glittering picture of survival beyond the boundary of solitary night, or could it be just the loyalty of being faithful to one’s agony. Berkeley said, ‘it was all just mental and nothing existed physically’, Some moment when one wishes it to be true more than anything else. Alas!”

Decree…!

"What could quench the thirst

Inflicted through the journey

Of seclusion, and mortification

Of being greedy

For a few droplets

Of tear

Mixed with blood

Drawn incoherently, yet

A sedative of rare properties

And grave

Ramifications

That would belie the silence

Left behind

For ages to come

An eerie void

Is bound to appear

At the bottom of

The chaos, and

The screams

(rather a chasm)

Which continues to echo

Through the insubstantial frame

Of utilitarian prison;

Perhaps disguised

As an obligation

Rather than a blunt ignorance,

Constituted solely

For the purpose

Of confining

The cries

Of one

Demanding salvation

Alas!

Sooner or later

The thirst consumes itself

And leaves behind

a trail

of dried blood

and dead teardrops

That leads nowhere, but

To the fear

Dictated upon

the shreds of

very skin

One had attempted

To cut through

And to escape

Perhaps…”

Praveen Parasar

03/04/2018

Incoherently…!

As uncertain, uncertainty could be

Certain of its certainty

as random, randomly

puts forth instances of randomality

as anonymous as it remains

of being diagnosed with

conditions of anonymity

and it between all such juxtaposition, of

to be and not to be

there lies one, surviving barely

holding on to those flashes nightly

and yet the night slips across

and the day marches on

and one still remains

carrying forward the bits and pieces

of self, nothing more than bits and pieces of

you and me, and the dangers of

incompatibility of vulnerability

that lingered within, insistently

unable to explain

and hapless as it would be

destined to lose

and to earn no more than a pity

yet the ferocity, of emotions

and their ability

to grow way beyond

a mere void, or

even an abyss, though momentarily

enough to destroy one

forever,

permanently

leaving behind nothing

but bits and pieces of lingering

darkness,

rather orderly

as if a consolation reward

for one who chose to fail

and fall

 such spectacularly

Alas! Perhaps a mere possibility

Of going beyond

Or growing vagabond,

drowning

incessantly …”

Praveen Parasar

30/03/2018

Tragedy of wanderer

Scribbling:

Tragedy of wanderer:

“How long could you hold on to the chaos building up within, sooner or later it is bound to engulf the bearer no matter of the attempts of reconciliations and patch-up. Any diplomatic attempt to check their unintentional growth is bound to fail for such attempt never appear to look for the cause but only to cover up the cracks; even to an extent repudiate the mere possibility of their existence, which starts to appear early.

He too went down the same path, probably they all do, who continue to consider themselves master of the rooster until the rooster is no more than a closed box drowning in the sea of what-ifs, left on its own to carry forward their leftover possibilities. However, to his own surprise, contrary to a sense of disbelief and unease; even a hint of pleasance subconsciously, he rather felt a sense of relief for at least he could now caress and hold on to those ruptures, without being afraid of being mocked and ridiculed, letting them deluge and overwhelm him within his own guilt.

The chaos did not end, neither he was at ease but for now they were not trying to deny a chance to the other to exist on its own, instead accepting the presence of another as a part of their own need to survive.

Essence…!

“Romanticism of lonely hearts

As if dried flowers lost in those old books

Tracing the shape of their hollow faces

Upon the fading pages

Getting drunk upon kiss of their own,

whispering their longing, only

to be find themselves red-faced

as the echoes of it fills the void

as if a deserted library

whose broken walls still carry the marks

of the touch upon their falling skin

while their bosom still carries the secret

left behind by someone passing by

who might have just wondered about

the extravagant ruins

buried beneath the weight of the darkness

there lies some leftover breathes

and a few pieces of hearts

to be found sooner or later

intoxicated, in their own embrace

and engraved,

‘to be handled with care’…”

Praveen Parasar

20/03/2018

Tragedy…!

"When there is no sense of belonging

No sense of being and becoming

When the sense of us is lost

At the cost, of made-up reasons

There comes moment of drowning solitude

Destined to take over you and me

The individuality suffers

The identity diluted

The bitterness growing

Chaos fills the glasses

And drunk upon darkness

Each one wanders

Upon why and how

While falling beneath

The recently discovered

Eccentric ways around

While the days played their part

And the nights kept apart

The needs abounding

And priorities astounding

Juxtaposition of failing justifications

Watching them watch each other

Fading along the void

While promising to keep

Their hearts ajar still,

Alas!...”

Praveen Parasar

17/03/2018