You’ve planted your roots under the humid sun,

pushing the earthen ground of filial obedience,

to find the water of appreciation and peace,

seeking the nutrients of innate contentment.


But you have been uprooted too often,

that your body is torn and bloodied, 

with the sins of your past,

with the karmas of your future.


You realise you only have the strength,

to gain stability in the concrete homes,

of those that never had the heart,

to give you loyalty in the first place.


Shiver at the ironic natures of this world!


The roots that you buried,

have been left to wither and die,

under the humid sun and the breezy winds,

the memories; the laugher.


Your living soul Is nothing but a distant past of a life once lived and mourned.





Like withered leaves,
frolicking to autumn’s eddying air,
I’ll never know,
when will I settle,
satisfy the needs of innate contentment,
accept that the established sentiment,
of yesteryear’s regrets and dispositions,
were brewed; resonance of seasons,
of torment and wholesome blues,
the despair of crouching in broken homes,
lined with vines of toughened roots,
of darkened esteems and confidence,
to approach life.

When will I settle,
heal the chasms of neurotic inanities,
reject the weakened foundations of these paper towns,
glorified by the insatiable greed of paper people,
making cutout love in flimsy suburbia,
that failed to quench the pleas of adam-kind,
to erase the mistake,
of star-crossed sins and entwined hues;
the longing for better times,
to approach life.


Boy Oh Boy you’ve grown,

Shred heartstrings and life became a loan,

An embodiment of hope till you were thrown,

Now you’re fighting a battle all so alone.


Boy oh boy you grown,

Fine nightshade seeds you’ve sown,

Reap your fruit as they were your own,

Your karma, the testament to your bone.




Murrain tears, bathed in Dawn’s pallor.

Skulls and bones, Hued of Nature’s color.

The sickened mind will cease in the midnight air

Despair will crumble, lieth silent-bare.

Far and wide they’ll tread to see

A cursed paradise, of forgotten thee

They saw and shunned the mental lyre

Ashes and broken dreams, product of the earthen pyre.