Tonight

Two egos clash,
Both survive,

A silent death,
Dies the night.

End of story,
End of plight.

New Year

The calendar’s changed,

When will life?

Why I wonder,

Is hope still alive?

The grey inside,

Has turned black,

Of time and thoughts,

I have lost track.

Insatiable, This thirst,

Will perhaps never die,

Downing drinks all night,

I wait for time to pass by.

Experiments with love,

Show no desired result,

The ones with lust,

Failed the worst.

Consumed by our own selves,

Sucked into the void of our lives,

The good times are gone,

Only darkness thrives.

Why pretend then,

Why to greet?

Fuck the new year,

Spare me the Bull shit.

Tiring games

The tunnel is long.

A shadow,
darker than the darkness,
Walks on.

He must return,
when he encounters the end.

It is not light that he seeks.

He is looking for a spark,
A long lost one,
Which he used to harbour.

Casual attempts in the enlightened world,
All futile.

It is in these dark alleys,
it must have been buried.

Hope dissipates, with every grain of sand that drips,
But he walks on.

If he fails, love shall conquer,
the distances that were supposed to keep it alive.
Two old lovers, would become one.

Love would then choke upon itself,
And die a slow death.

Love is not meant to be realized,
It is best left to imagination.

The darkness, like a restless woman,
Schemes for the union.
Unaware of realities of the world.

He must resist temptation.
The union must be the last resort.

For the sake of love,
With different perspectives,
Both of them seek.

The darkness- a perfect scheme,
He- the spark.

The game is on.

Balcony seat- M-1005

An inebriated mind surfs through the past,

Through the days of glory, that didn't forever last.

He thinks about people who, he had forgotten exist,

He realizes, the sheer depth of the list,

He then wonders how the distances grew,

And how small acts, over the time accrue,

How he left behind what he once embraced,

For all that he went ahead and faced.

Ignorance is bliss, he was taught,

Just another proverb, he must have thought.

It was something deeper that he sought,

Waiting for that one perfect shot,

To bring the rest of the world to a naught,

Busy devising one perfect plot,

But God knows when, time ran out, 

This ignorant man, now caught in a spot,

He'd have done it all, at least for them,

He didn't, and they have the right to condemn,

But he wishes he could ask,

If this were indeed a Herculean task,

"If I could not, why didn't you,

Why should it always be me, to see it through,

I do not complain, Cause frankly I do not care,

I raise this antepenultimate peg, to the souls we were,

To those who complain, I don't stay in touch,

And even if I do, It's not much,

To you, Old friends of mine, and our dilapidated touch,

This penultimate one, might not mean much,

But this secret I must concede,

Before my senses recede.

The spark of the rebel you once knew, has now faded away,

A loner was born, on some God forsaken day,

Forget me, It would not mean much, 

Our lives, they rarely cross as such,

I'd cut it short, And raise this last one, 

To what we did, and what is done,

If we ever meet, I would meet like a friend, 

But for now folks, this is the end".

He has closed the story for now, 

But I would not let it happen, I disallow,

Fuck the world, I never left his side,

And buy the laws of brotherhood, he must abide,

Forget the crowd that, for him, cheered,

Liked his words, loved his beard,

A young stooge stands in the mirror,

To him, he must retell, the truth bitter,

How man was meant to wander and chase,

And time and again, put on a new face,

He must guide him through this journey so rough, 

Teach this young boy what it means to be tough,

He needs to put together a plan, 

For the last one of his clan, 

His own reflection, people guess,

Out of their coldheartedness.

What they think, would never matter,

I must serve it to them on a platter,

That man in the mirror, you'd never see, 

What happened next, let it just be,

Nothing changes much, you are what you want to be,

Neither did I, nor did HE.

To Greatness and togetherness

Greatness is pursued,
By mortals of lesser taste,
You my friend,
were born great.

Tough times test,
only the tough,
Some nights are beautiful,
Some days rough.

I've go nothing to preach,
Only memories,
Of the night  that it was,
That very moment and some old stories.

Too busy in our lives,
Yes, we've been.
But without these stolen moments,
Life loses its sheen,

The two of us,
are almost always together,
Find time, time and again,
Three over two,is anyday better.

I still think about it,
The indifference on your face,
The void within,
Trying to find its space,

But grateful I am to you,
For staying that night,
All the luck to you,
The noble one, a man upright.

It would be the same old room,
The same set of people, Once again,
We'd just want you to know,
This isn't Sparta, this isn't Spain,
But we care,
Brothers in arms, as I say,
One man armies, Stronger together,
Life shall be tamed, try as hard as it may.

A casual comment, it was on your part,
But I pay heed to the smaller details,
men of our words, that we are,
Here goes this one, even if it fails.

Flashbacks

Lost in translation,
In between the lines,

Sieved through false intellect
And passive reactions,
Quietly,
Time leaked by in fractions,

Dull and Gory,
the same old story,

Of questions asked,
and nights trashed,

And then this desire to relive,
a moment that's passed,

The soft transition,
of the night into the the morn,

This weird desire to belong,
to the time that's gone.

To be or not?

Dropped his armor,
It slowed him down.

If at all he should,
He will lay one last bait.

Fear, he had none.

He'd take one shot at the beast,
And put to an end, this heist.

He will either kill,
or death shall be his tonight.

He looks prepared,
For this one last fight.

And this tiny piece of land,
Shall be the witness first hand.

To the heroics of this brave man,
The last one, of his clan.

Faced by mankind's most perilous question-
" To be or not"?