Duality Poems

I am waiting for a miracle. A miracle of meteorological proportions. A miracle whose atmospheric propositions would be large enough to render it, and anything appertaining to it, be it high up in the sky that ends it, or down

Have you tasted the silk in the pit of snakes? Exit was not in my fate. Winter was kissing my toes and spring was blooming down in my estranged poems. You don’t feel like to wake up for ingrained disbelief.

Rain, wet and unrelenting Sun, so hot and dazzling Dreams of misty, cool rain And rides in an air-conditioned train Skylines of harsh, cold concrete Valleys of lush, green meadows Thunderstorms over a thrashing sea Beaches of soft, golden sand

It is so cloudy, blue and black. If we could only see the end of the track. Heaven knows what we are likely to see. For what we really are is all we can be. It’s so sad that we

If I If I ventured in the slipstream Between the viaducts of your dream. I’m sorry. It was the only place I ever wanted to be. From the fresh breeze of a first love to a sonic jolt of oneness.

Stranger, why should I not smile at you? Why should we be entrapped under false separations of race, color, caste, creed or any duality? Are not we beings cast in the image of God? Is not all – one! We

Often kith and kin friends and relatives kids and aged would meet either in functions or in funerals of the dead The smiles, the laughs the Ecstasy the warmth, the affection are all there to be seen when participating in

As I look around me, The world becomes so different, So full of love, So full of hate Hate is hard to keep away, But sometimes it’s the only way The person who you hate, May have a perfect fate,

In emptiness staying aloof to set the wings free, a shadow self without flesh and bones to rip out the enormity of silence of words, cold in the face of duality metaphysical but of somber echo of tension between reconciliation

Hoisting the bisexuality on a figurine, I crawl back to anxiety. The primitive instinct was taking over the stitches on a snake. What do you want from a moon for the drooling mouth of a seashell? Braiding the breasts against

This was my book of pain with no ending. Life had two meanings- Anticipation of today, and fear of tomorrow. Time was running out like sand from fists, mists were rising, commentaries on setting sun had begun. Mind was calculating,

Meditating quietly, On the self within, In the serene calm of mind Devoid of motion or sound Every day, Like a vibration, With a speed of thought, I travel manifold universes & Beyond, Amusing my-self In various lokas¹, Ever shining,

The human? That is not a question mark, but purely a contemplative issue. Dilemma, bridge connecting light from dark. And timelessness, cocooned in timely tissue. Recumbent on duality of mind, pulled multiple directions by his cares, the human, guilty, slumbers

Light a sharpie so bright shines on beauty seen through decay. Both beauty and decay form a duality of darkness and luminosity. Beauty is a love that can provide for its reality against dismay. Just as tradition is a security

We, You and I, Are individuals. As individuals, Regardless of how steadfastly We assert individuality, We’ll either blend in Or be drowned in a sea of Excessively passionate individuals; Each uniquely manufactured to personify Their respective soul. We, You and

When I converse with him, He is high, up in the night sky.. It’s all about you and me, And about the silence that expresses the loudest thought that dwells in our mind. While shinning bright it does flicker at

Let your wings flutter for a while, you may walk,run or crawl but not to give a cry Shimmering stars will flirt with the young night but you may resist to hide in plain sight. The constant clutter of your

Drifting through the meadow of love On a boat above the clouds Looking down on the face of Earth Colors of a Rainbow on dusty brown Creatures running round and round Demons slaying innocent dreams A gush of red flows

If you’ve ever seen an ant go whizzing by faster than his friends and with goggles on his eye’s, then without a doubt, skidding through the plants, you’ve met my friend Albert, The skate-boarding ant. From the day he was

Every memory of you, every feeling you made me feel, is so very precious and so very real, hidden are my secrets, hidden are my joys, nothing can bring them back so today I avoid, run away, run away that’s

She’s dressed in black with white high heels, A mini dress her leg reveals, She fakes some tears with mini skills, She hides her face and what she feels. She wants to say: ‘I am a saint, I can’t bear

I see a place with starless skies. I see a dark smooth world endlessly a float in the black, its star long since blinked out. Covered with small closely spaced geodesic domes. Geodesic domes all interconnected, all with conduits leading

Twitter is a trap, chuck it in the bin, Twitter makes me look at other peoples’ sin. It never makes me happy , always makes me sad, Tends to make me covet ,the things I never had. I’m turning off

They say that when you fall in love, your world turns brighter. I never thought it would be true… At least, not until I met you. From the crest of the hill, I could see you looking off in the

It was the Walking Time again The time on which to ponder Wonder, wander Across the wild heather and heath Coals, greys, hints of blue are above Looking down as if there is nothing beyond A blanket, envelope Surrounding and

Freedom is a dream A subtle silvery dream Hanging around the hills and vales of our desires Delicate threads Interwoven in intricate patterns A trap for the naive mind. Freedom is a constant struggle The writhing battle between The butterfly

Quixotic life brings wonderful thinking In such wee hour of foggy winter night Sitting on the spacious balcony with rural setting Feeling the favour of native care. With drowsy eyes. It is not uncommon in recent Thou has started to

Forget nothing and dream of everything opening like a flower bud Turning memories into fantasy and reality but an if and why and could Smell the flowers scent and it reminds you of a woman of the wood It’s colour

Well whist in the world happened to drive us so far apart my friend… I miss you and I pray someday we’ll be as close again as we were way back when… ‘cuz it’s been a long, long time since

Your first look when I encountered in the college library I lost my consciousness and forgot my mission Your deep blue eyes were searching chemistry equations in an old organic chemistry book and your naive and candid face made me

BUS RiDES AND ORDEALS It’s the long rides from the small towns to the city. The mesmerizing sceneries of the trip taking the bus on the uneven roads, Sometimes,unpaved with no asphalt and the road lay carpeted with small rocks

When I look into life When I look back Memories haunt me When I look ahead Dreams seem untrue Sideways seem so narrow Stuck is my breath Stuck is my life My integrity Oh life in your clutches!

Champagne bubbles , Glasses tingles I hear cheers of joyful mingles, Toasting to they who lives for gingle . Dance with me under the moon light, Fall on my lips your crystal drizzles , molten in your arms as I’m

Don’t cry for me… I’ve met my destiny And found solace in the soil that covers me. Look beyond my grave Gather the stones, guns, bullets and grenades Build them into wheels For windmills, bicycles and trains. Look into children’s

Global revolution is in the air. Not militarily, but technologically. It will be no less disruptive to world order, in fact it will be many magnitudes more. Technology tsunamis will churn across the globe and back again,washing away the old

Man is man’s foe, Woman is woman’s foe. But a child is a child’s pal. Innocent wins innocent – Knowledge defeats knowledge, Widens the gap between the wise men, Wrecking their heads, To satisfy their revenge! One that burns the

Never in those sizzling conflicts displaying the pink eyes you were able to reach me. Was it metagenesis, forgetting your selfhood? Fragments of a beast were floating on sea. Was umblicus of death broken in the crotch of a mother?

we have a clean white bed, slept late, a shock to break the ritual. a treat on a major scale. probably ten. I think I may like to travel to small places, old and full of history. deep aged fabrics

You are the spark in my darkest day And that pull when I wish to walk away Days without you are so much inutile And the Nights remains in exile These wind often whistle your name Let the world change,

in hired spring and naked thighs the eternal sorrow did not go, it was living in our memory under the gun of an unknown soldier. The mania had brought the overwhelming jeopardy of artificial smiles, the swords, and ropes and

Let’s, you and I, have secs. Let’s have seconds that lead to minutes that lead to hours that lead to days. For entertainment purposes, let’s enter our secs for roles in ‘special’ theatrical plays in which we’re allowed to act

It was a thorn in flesh before our fires met in midstream, the waterplant had become untouchable. I saw you lying behind a thin veil, like a prophet, in timeless agony. The moon had left a wreath for a failed