Clay pots


What was made, couldn’t be molded into a story. It demanded its own identity, not to be created or changed by anyone. Once touched by the deformer, it is not the same anymore. A heart full of errors need to be mended, otherwise shall be abandoned. Why it can’t be accepted the way it is bred? Raw, untouched waiting to be explored.

Is that so? Oh, my creator! When you make me, I am no more myself. Is it you who reflect in me? The rain, a fire may expire the life in me. Alas! I am nothing but a piece of mud put together to outlive the epidemic. Is it a curse? Or a mistake?

Sometimes I am that flower pot to be showcased in the window while waiting for the sunshine to bring life into my roots. Or perhaps, a plumpish vessel that feeds hungry souls. Many hands tried their luck in revitalizing the statue of blunders but nothing could bring out from predetermined fate. The pain it’s soul captured had immense energy to negate the prophecy.

It is draining to be molded into something but, not self. Why it is so important to please others? What is this texture made of? Shooting thorns, handful of flowers, bleeding tears some dirt maybe? Pots made from the heart of mud may be repairable but can’t be changed. This is their story….



Sun and Moon

Too deep water is

Too deep sky

What is not so deep…is to die

Too deep eyes are

Too deep heart

What is not so deep…is to cry

Too deep truth is

Too deep promises

What is not so deep…is to lie

Too deep feelings are

Too deep pain

What is not so deep…is to sigh

Too deep sunlight is

Too deep night

What is not so deep…is to defy




Above thousands skies, there is a place where life greets us with open arms. It is a station decorated with love, happiness and hope of unity brings joyful moments. How far we need to travel to get there? A journey of eternity is waiting to be crossed by a traveler. “Come to the other side of the life! I am longing for you to return”. The seeker hollers.

We are delusional and once our eyes are opened, the door of reality is accepted and fantasy is casted away. Why can’t we differentiate between now and the seventh sky? Let’s visit to the places filled with roses, rainfalls, mountains, and kisses made of lucency.

Once, it was felt on this skin when the fantasy became to life. Those eyes, that shine swept away the obscurity out of my body and transformed into a cozy cloud. An old home, however unfamiliar rather attractive provided shelter to the lost soul. His heart was naive to bypass the truth of reality. Although, it was a web knitted to overpower my existence, but it was ignored intently.

You were the savior, the destroyer and I was the lover. The pain you never acknowledged, was still felt on my spirit. The bruises, a guilt, and blame I took for your companionship was painful. Now all these unwanted scars are yearning to be displayed at the conscience of my world. Once we become one, you will forget those wounds. But only at the horizon of forgetfulness, where bodies make love to the souls and hearts unleash the fears. I shall receive you at the door of fulfillment where righteousness will welcome you. The untouched desires will complete the circle of my happiness and perfection will kiss my forehead. Although, I feel half, the home I repine for, will wait for your essence.

The canopies made of silk, the roses made of love will become our fate. Two spirits craving to be immersed in each other, will reach to the final destination. Air full of sweet scents will drizzle aroma of passion and beauty. The blue sky will open the gates of heaven for the lovers to become whole again. Dancing streams will complete their journey, the isolated mountains will stroke the sky and we will be together forever.

Till then, we must suffer…we must grieve….we must hide…and we must endure.




Without feet..


At the day of reconcilement, the sun will rise from the west to die in the arms of the east. But there will be no chance for you to surrender. This deadly soul will only set to be immersed in bosom of fearlessness. It shall pay tribute to the stars, a moon. Galaxies will kneel down to bow.

Knock knock! ” you cannot enter again as I am free from my own constraints”. Are you again here to scare me? To remind me of the weaknesses you love? How many souls are connected to these stories? Perhaps a lot. Don’t come near me. I have become myself again and you have turned into cowardliness. Do I love you enough to hate you? Or should I hate you as I have loved you crazily? No handcuffs, no ornaments my body is desiring of.

A dove of beauty has been liberated. She can fly high or die quickly but reassured, as you are not her destination anymore. Her wings full of passion have left the guilt behind. No more lies, no more secrets she drink, but poison everyday that remind her of your kiss.

I hate you…

When fantasies take shape of reality, they transform into hell. Fears start to shine like stars and raindrops shower nothing but fire. But fear no more as you will overcome it. It will die after each sip you take. The last sip will provoke dauntlessness inside. So be free. Cut yourself in half and feel the whole.



Across the ocean, when hunger touches the lips of many and no hope knocks at the doorsteps of your house…..I call this a suffering.

An old man struggles to live through besides being aware of the time when his soulmate is waiting for him to return to her, they will become whole forever…I call this a suffering.

Looking from the half broken window, encaged unwillingly, a shattered pretty woman dying to be rescued as her savior may come for her….I call this a suffering.

When hardship closes all the doors and a family is counting on a piece of bread to be divided among five, a miracle may defeat the destiny…I call this a suffering.

After being used like a doormat, she thinks while standing at the shore to end it here as her soul was being butchered again and again….I call this a suffering.

A helpless mother looks at her Ill-child, desperately asking HIM to use the magic wand to create a prodigy while her patience is at verge of the test…I call this a suffering.

Being aparted from her love, a beating heart longs for nothing but to be kept alive in the eyes of her beloved and the pain that soul witnesses….I call this a suffering.

The stronger has the ego to swallow and claims to follow the principles to end injustice but deep inside, the layers of hypocrisies prevail to absorb the weak…I call this a suffering.

Inside a protected home, an innocent hand is furious to be molested by her very own and yet she’s being snubbed in the name of dignity….I call this a suffering.

Each sip of a wine feels like a venom when a trusting friend drinks from your lips to be intoxicated and the taste feels sweet….I call this a suffering.

Jokers & entertainers


We are nothing but murderers of our own souls. Ripping each other into pieces, we take pride in. The egos, the malice rise above to cover the frightening trembling fleshes. How ironic! The courage growls after crushing the oppressed and voiceless beings.

Where will we take this? So-called humans! It is inevitable as we shall seek for the day where caves built of mud and dirt will become our casket. We are pompous and heartless to admit to our design and HE who bestowed this upon us. Or is it the free will once has been whispered by the Master? The fate has become the daring reason and we are cowards. Of course, we are proud to crush the weak, it feeds our own self fulfilling prophecy. No doubt, a pleasure is wrapped as the token of personal assurance, at last, creates a winner.

Cut each other’s hearts into pieces so we can see our own reflection in the lake of bloodshed.

How amusing it is to be entertained by our own show!

We are spectators, we are the charade.

We are the farceur of the play.

Come! Join me to the masquerade.

It’s for fun only…..

A shining star


Shining through, a star

made it’s way to brighten

the path as she walked up

and up to spread her rays

to glorify…..she became the sky.

Today the moon dances

in her beauty and stars

applaud as she celebrates

her success…..Do you see it?

That sparkle?

The magical show of glitters?

Don’t blink, as I find it

in the heart of that

precious eye; that twinkle.

I call her: A shining star…….



No longer I live. The ashes I breathe, the air I fancy, nothing but a dead soul crawling to touch the finish-line.  As I move forward, a thin air throws me back when I am at the verge to reach my home. What have I done? Where went wrong? Is it a trap?

However, it has not started this way,  and now the finale is disastrous. The pleasantness I vouched for, was as real as I feel these eyes on my face. The beauty this heart witnessed once, the love my soul absorbed, was all magical. The feeling of temptation has no longer craving for ecstasy but suffering.  My caravan has stopped because a dust storm has covered up my sky. What should’ ve  had happened if it was all clear? Would I still have reached my home? Who would receive me at the arrival?  A face with the mask? Those unwanted hands? Deceiving eyes? Charming deceptions?

Then I ponder:

How unappreciative my lover is!  How unfortunate the destiny is!

The burden my soul is carrying of being abandoned, is tormentous.  He is selfishly impetuous, so my ignorance as well. Puppets are fearful, lovers are frail. To him, it’s a music that he plays along. For me, it’s each note I practice.

I have given my heart to the hands of carelessness. Unfortunately, yes, it is the height of my dedication, the association between a heart and a heartbeat.

Is it fake? Or real?

The madness, the obsession two spirits felt, were real. Living on the edge, I still long for that adventure. How brutal my lust is! How painful the helplessness is!

This heart is no longer anticipating for reunion.  Degrading, It is to be loved like a substance. This happens when you try to cross the borderline. Sky is the limit but Unreachable, Alas!


A Poet’s life..


He lived through her words…to be remembered by many…

She blossomed in his world…But wilted, after twilight. Alas!

Myths unfolded the chariness…

Now the candor nestles with her heart.

“How the taste feels inside? Of  being the history of my epic?” She asks.

“Are you pleased with your vanity?”

“You were being impatient”, weren’t you?

Don’t be pretentious, as more to witness.

The romance, the love, the sweetness…Oh, bleeding pen of melting candle!

Now the time has come to test the blank the pages will now drink

the  red tears each night of the celebration.

The flame will be intoxicated in agony…as the suffering will drip through

the waxy body…This is her fate, this is the life.

It was a bouquet of beautiful feelings…as he dived inside deep to

swim through the ocean…to encircle around as each wave of emotions

were being caressed by his essence.

He hasn’t left yet…a peculiar voice whispers.

Still sleeps by her bed side…It is him, a storyteller.

By whom, she listens, then hide under the cover to be manifested…

Once, he danced on her blank canvas…as now the ink fades, she becomes half..

He became real to her dream…and turned the truth into her name..

He stayed still like a tear in the eye…gushed like a storm to leave a sigh..

He invented himself through her story…then disappeared to search for

another  glory.

This is how the poetry evolves…this is how the life takes strolls..

Oh, cruel being! You didn’t appreciate each drop of her blood presented him..

But he cared less to be remained in her saga..Hence, nothing left but dry pages,

wanting to be cherished more.

Aah! This is a Poet’s life…

His name..



I stare at his name to forget mine

This is how I remember myself…

I read him soft to feel my soul

This is how I embrace myself…

I kiss the letters to conquer mine

This is how I liberate myself…

I erase all marks to start new

This is how I invent myself…