Thursday, May 15, 2008

The Kingdom of Twilight

- Shashank Kumar

Twilight brings the sorrow

When man is set alight

Thoughts he does borrow

Full of his fears and fright

Of agony and anticipation

In the race called his life

Hopelessly lacking action

All but a hackneyed strife:

A conflict what to do and not

A compromise always to reach

Freedom as a child he sought

But life’s there with a breach:

A demise of all his dreams

A collapse of his owned desires

Morbidity shadows and seems

In those soft emotional pyres

Nothing, nothing but material

A world of stranded hollowness

Nothing, nothing heavenly real

In this dystopian heaviness

What’s existence in a coma?

What’s struggle on a deathbed?

What’s imaginative in a trauma?

What’s exaggerative in what’s said?

Smile, laugh, frolic in sarcasm

Scornful are the best of times

There’s no harmony or any charm

Nothing with which life so rhymes

And you’d go not thinking about

This is truth as night turns dark

Twilight will come again and sprout

Such questions you’ll hauntingly hark

And as if with spark, they’ll all fade

Like your emotions or things equally raw

You’d move on in a harrowing shade

Ignoring what you just heard and saw

And this way you’d just end one day

In a silent collapse of everything

My poem ain’t lovely or needs a say

But in your last breath, this song you’ll sing:

That twilight had brought the sorrow

When you, the man, was set alight

Thoughts you, the man, had then borrowed

Full of your manly fears and fright.

Friday, January 11, 2008

The Lost Eyes

The Lost Eyes


-Shashank, 11th January, 2008


Those eyes behind such lovely glare

A fire, passion, zeal and flare

Even in such awe, I dared to stare

One day you were, today you are where?


Lost ago in the ages of time

Self lost sense, life’s lacking rhyme

My lovely side, my ideal prime

What was the reason, or my crime?


Come back, O girl, wherever you are

Don’t be far like the twinkling star

Numbness forlorn has left a scar

As if to ask, am I meant to jar?


Chase you, my love, in every dream

In every morning’s earliest gleam

Till the sunset, until finally I deem:


You belong to someone else

Saturday, October 13, 2007

An inch of happiness in a heap of sorrow...

AN INCH OF HAPPINESS IN A HEAP OF SORROW


Pensive mood in the eyes lying so deep

So much to hide and so little to weep

Can I somehow gather some time to sleep

Over the credulity of my inner reap?


The world might say I may cry a lot

But never do they give an opportune shot

It’s all left to rot, decay and begot

Some uselessness inside and become forgot


So do I squander just to work and wonder

Am I a puppet in this dungeon down under?

The world so fast or I too slow and slumber

My mind just goes, from numb to number...


I ask a question, or let us play a game

It’s not about me, or about asking your name

Just tell me when this happiness became

A thing so transient, and so practically lame?


Why are there eyes above me and watching

How do I act or move and do my walking

What is in those who do all this sketching

Penned bullied down, trembling and shivering....


Facing reality is a tough to tougher ask

Facing the world is more than an impossible task

If you go unprepared for the treachery at bask

The devils all around in countenance of a mask...


It will end this way, one day one moment

Worried for forever your breath will end

So what can you do, what message you send...

In people to come, and generations to descend?


A fear, a hallucination or perhaps a dreaded ghost

That the world is surreal, and nothing to boast

Your life never had a happy glass of vodka or toast

That’s what you wish to tell them, all the most?


Draw the positives, somehow somewhere

Life for all others, sometimes if you dare...

Just dig out a moment when you did kiss with glare

That last dripping brandy and a moment so fare...


Cherish the things with the people who love and grant

Love to yourself, your beings and your younger hands

May be the face which is always there wherever you stand

There are certain positives, I say again, to bind and band...


Else the world becomes rusty and people do stare

You stand all alone, so lone and so bare

You just wish to find solace or to share...

A word with a few, who do somehow care...


Love your life. Love everyone around you, specially those who care for you. A warm hearted “good morning” or a smiling “hello” means a lot. Imbibe these, the world will change for you. Perhaps still 99% will be against you, but 1% for you in such a vast population means a lot. Please, love your life, don’t just live it.

Friday, October 12, 2007

The Metamorphic Song

The Metamorphic Song

- Shashank, 12th October, 2007



It’s high time I do change

It’s high time I deliver

Not in eyes of people, but myself

Sending through a tremulous shiver

I wanna shake the rustiness, the tardiness that binds me harder

I wanna move the dastardliness, that bastardiness in a corner

I wanna ruffle the craziness, some laziness up the surface

Bubble out the sturdiness, the consciousness like a river...


Ebbing through, hearts so deep

In the blood which does weep

My body which does creep

Impotency beneath I do keep

But under this mistaking, the grieving I do gather momentum

But under this fast speaking, lyric writing I make some hum

Coz I wanna ruffle the craziness, laziness up to the surface

Woof out the sturdiness, the consciousness like a drum...


Crazy, lazy, messy, and busy, statistical indeterminatancy

All which comes binding with no mercy....



It’s high time I do change

It’s high time I deliver

Not in eyes of people, but myself

Sending through a tremulous shiver

I wanna shake the rustiness, the tardiness that binds me harder

I wanna move the dastardliness, that bastardiness in a corner

I wanna ruffle the craziness, some laziness up the surface

Bubble out the sturdiness, the consciousness like a river...

Sunday, September 30, 2007

My idleness took away my love

MY IDLENESS TOOK AWAY MY LOVE


- Shashank, 30th September, 2007


So much to do

In so less time,

My own verse says:

“I won’t rhyme”

Until I compel it,

With some power:

The greed to excel,

The habit to shower

Perhaps some brilliance

Or personal motivation,

Somehow I do it

Killing the sedation

Which has been idling

Ever since birth

A mood to relax:

A choice not worth?

Still don’t know why
This body is lethargic,

Just doing nothing

And pretend being so sick?

If I can write this poem,

Why not something else;

If I can give time here

Why not where she dwells?

Still I do miss her

In heart deep beneath

Ever since she left,

I’m not at ease to breathe...


Time and tide waits for none

Friday, September 28, 2007

Poetic Power

THE POETIC POWER


- Shashank, 28th September, 2007


This is a lyric

Not long ago thought

But something cynic

And yet so wrought...


Strange, isn’t it?

Power words do cast...

More than a conduit

Meandering rough and vast


Draining your emotions

Or playing with the mind

Sometimes, serving as potions

Or others, soothing and kind


And when it gets serious?

It’s grave indeed

To listen out curious

The voice of tears beneath


Nothing else surpasses

The voice of the heart

Or the melody of the grasses

In winds, making ‘em dart...


This is a lyric

Now very well thought

Perhaps a little cynic

But yet, so wrought...

Something to say...

A GUILT TO SHARE...


Way back, I thought why I write, and perhaps I never came up with an answer. I am supposed to be a very nice person, loved by parents, family and to have a sense of maturity and responsibility. The first part is perhaps okay, but then the second part violates it: reasons thrust upon just for the sake of something called adulthood, when the mind still wants a bit of that childhood back, in fact a lot of that childhood back: yes, there are testosterones, there is a darkness, there are all things a mind can have but you never live to, and never should; but then again there are some things which should never be. What you jest amongst your friends, how you come up with the fairer sex, all is put up a vigil eye by this society; making simple things complex. We can never be that frank we were in childhood: morally correct; but ethically unapplied, rather wrongly applied. There are other ways to achieve objectives...


Still regretting what I did, why I did, and why I did not say what I should have said, what I said which I should have never...


One day this blog will go to you, that person to whom it’s aimed... my last attempt of approach was wrong, rather unsuccessful, this one I hope goes to make amends.


Love you


“There are things

Which remain regretted

To think likewise

And to become forgetted...


Still heart throbs back

And strikes something holy

I shall, for you, redeem

And bring back lost glory


This man may have slowed

But not his emotions

Still he’s young,

Don’t make any notions:



LOVE YOU"