Falsche Liebe

‘Love’ in the modern world, wants the humane touch ,..

For people these days, have attempted, however miserably, to objectify it. 

The word ‘love’ has been repeatedly used by all sorts of people in all sorts of things that it has lost it’s original essence.. 

And in their ventures to commodify it, love has been made so commonplace an entity that , The purest of emotions, and so beautiful a sensation ,once ,has been debased into the most trivial of things, as if a rag doll, played once with much gaiety, but eventually grown weary of it and without so much as a fleeting glance deserted it, impure and blemished. 

So rather than trying to objectify love in the forms of insta stories and facebook statuses, let’s try to drench ourselves in it’s ever falling rain of kindness and passion…of longing and devotion … 

Let us all be a bit less robots and a little  more human. ….


A Tale Untold

So I walk down the paths,                              Of gravelled roads and broken pasts.

Of futures bright, all left unsaid,                    Silence forced, and forever laid. 

As I walk, I sweep my eyes,                              Over the rocks, A hundred miles,

And See,                                                          See the reality,

For what it is,                                                      For what it says, 

These people,                                                      Standing upon their graves,

No loved ones to visit,                                        No loved ones now lives

They are all dead,                                              Buried in soiled beds. 

Some wealthy Tyrant’s deed,                            The lust for Power and Greed

Like a Sabre, Huge and Vile,                            The many lives, it Sacrificed,

Their ghosts now stand,                                    Faces ashen,                                                        With blood drenched fights,                             And trails of pain. 

With hands outstretched,                                  They seem to ask,                                                Who robbed them of                                          Their Corporeal Mask? 

To tell the tales,                                                  I walk down the path ,                                    The gravelled roads, I take,                              And leave behind my heart. 


Relive the massacres of Eastern Ghouta, Syria in this poem


Every time I look back,                                      I see it all again.                                                  The memories so fresh,                                    driping like rain,.

Wrinkles of time,                                                So hard to erase.                                                The difference made this time,                        Is everything it takes.

Your Savior, you say?                                        The one who shows you light?                        To stitch your broken parts,                            With the world, for you, fight. 

I’ve tried so hard to be,                                      To be the one to nurse,                                      But Baby                                                              Let me heal this time,                                        For I’m hurting worse.    

Unnamed Amour

Love is blind,                                    Undefined.                                                        Why then, the Chains,                              Their freedom bind?

                To love, and be loved,
                Is no grave crime.
               Two hearts benign,
               Their feelings may rhyme.

Then, why can’t a lass
To a lass, vow lifetime?
A man, in the arms
Of another, solace find?

               Deep down inside, we must
               Love our own kinds.
              Shattering, the clichéd wall,
              Of our prejudiced minds


Tainted and torn,                                      Painted with scorn.

               Cursing the day,                                              Of unfortunate born

Shadows of the night,                          Dreading the morn.

               With hearts, forlorn,                                          They walk on.

Scum of the Sun,                                      Moon’s delight

               For how little,                                               With the world, they fight

Respect, their want,                            Courage, their pride,

             Hope, Of a day,                                               To embrace the light.

Humans, they are too,                                Life’s unbiased child

             Let us not unseam,                                    The wings of boundless flight.

Little Goddess 

“Kill the girl”                                                   Amma ji deride,                                                                                                                                    “A bucket of milk,                                          for the`  Shaitans`  bride”.                                                                                        Back at her home,                                          The men all tried,                                                                                                                                  But food and wealth,                                    Were both denied.                                                                                                    “Save us, Lakshmi Ma”                                 To the sculpture, They cried.                                                                                                         From the depths of milk’s ocean,                   The Real Goddess smiled.