blindly convinced that I contain some kind of god-like charm
I’ve always been corrupted With safety With corporeal articles With ideas of an imaginary future. Today, all conjoins With a flick of the ember possessed by your hair.
The crashing sounds of cars that surround seem insipid now
Through this evanescent embrace, I’ll draw everything I require.
We corrode despite comprehensive confabulation Contracting obligations that snap the weight of the world Or help us slink beyond sight
I’m in this now, how else can I prove I’m alive?
I’ll be the roadblock on the torose route paved by your veins on your neck. Only I. I will outrun anyone or anything else.
I wish I had the power to elect the colours of my painting
Today, the insignificance outweighs what they label enormous.
I’m a warmonger; searching for a new war, searching to secure a new state
Everyone is drowning; Floods. Greed. Money. Poverty. Power. Self-Adulation. Self-Depreciation. Selfies.
Leap of faith onto razorblades
“keep the peace” or something more trivial
assets are the only articles that transcend
colouring between the lines I’m confined in
captivated by costumed concerns
dying for the west
Summer’s stench strips bare Winter’s wraith wrestles certainty As if Convolution conceded Like the national notion of normalcy It’s simply make believe. And the population picks up arms Awakens Fights Disintegrates And Surrenders. Only to leave the same stench behind. . . . #poetryisnotdead #indianwriters #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #poem #poetry #poetsofinstagram #writer
I have always been there from the start In khakhi shorts Saffron in my heart Scathing at the surface Forming a mould Call it our country’s dream And don’t you dare question Question my integrity Don’t you dare make Make a sound This shotgun will blow you bastards off. Stand in line. Look down, faggot. . . . #poetryisnotdead #indianwriters #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #poem #poetry #poetsofinstagram #resist #politics