Wavelength

This is a poem that I wrote in a very desperate time of my life, the things that have ultimately lead me to be what I am now. You may make of it whatever you want.


Wavelength

And I found myself writing,
It's all about the calculations,
I am just a varied wavelength,
Not suited for anyone approval;

So strike: strike down tribulation lightning,
For thou art on the 7th cloud,
For as a castaway do you stay,
on an island not at people's bay.

Down: down with the wreath do they send you,
Dawned with a face singed with an evil grin.

Oh! Why do you find yourself crying,
Hiding your tears,
Flapping  desperately in this endless abyss,
Forever alone shall you remain: as such.

What, Oh! just what went wrong here,
People trying desperately to be the same,
All wavelength tuned to one,
All the magic answered through the same damn call.

Until you are just one....
One with the matrix.

A person playing by the games rule,
Knowing not the bliss your soul desire,
Finding your path hard to deviate,
Finally leading your progeny past the same lane.

For thou art afraid,
Afraid of the deviation,
Afraid that even they might hurt and shatter,
Shatter like the beauty glass you were.

Aviary: Anguish Of A Withered Soul

I know what a caged bird feels, Alas!
Squatting in its wretched perch,
A being chiseled out of clay,
Longing for the day she can fly to the blue.

Each day the longing envelopes,
As she looks for the very clue,
The clue of her life that's waiting to lurk,
As the predator turns to its toes.

She knows as all caged birds do,
That one day she will flee,
And with that freedom she will glee,
As onwards to the sky she shall glide.

The wind shall hit her,
As she sails through the storms,
The smooth tidings and the heavy rain's,
She shall brave them all.

Longing for that happiness,
Beating her wings determined to be free,
She beats till her blood sheds on the bar,
She beats till it stains with her tears.

She awaits for the very day,
Knowing not whether she would attain,
That one thing she longs for,
Alas! I know what a caged bird feels.

Saga: The Story Continues

Travelling onwards the wagon of life,
Staring into the blackness; the unknown,
Like a lions jaw mawing over,
Waiting on as if deaths scepter ready to sow.

The wait being a mind bending torture,
Sometimes like a kids game; fun,
Other times a lover's symphony,
And finally things that crack you.

For one to grasp acknowledgment and peace,
For the heart kindled through fire,
One has to see the future,
Beheld by the palms of destiny.

Too many paths unbridled,
Every one worthy of the kin,
But emotions over adventure,
As one regards the sins.

As each choice unfolds,
Timelines come to a shift,

As the picture finally unreels,

Drama of a new scene begins.

Each scene's essence a true beauty,

A mixture of emotions ridden,

A surging tide passes through,

As one battles his hidden.

Life's choices are meant to be,

Each second a forlorn story,

Like a leaf flipping over,

Each moment can begin anew.

As the Saga: The Story Continues.

On The Wing

I wish I could be a bird,
Gliding high and above,
The sky; my garden,
And the earth my haunt.

Detached will I be from,
these human emotions,
like a ethereal body,
will I be floating around; weightless.

Survival of the fittest,
shall be my only mantra,
devoid shall I be ,
of any petty feelings.

I shall fly high and cut through the winds,
And glide through the mesmerising clouds,
For then I would know the word 'freedom',
For then I would finally release my 'spirit'.