Tomorrow isn't fine- poem

  

Tomorrow is a wonderful day, 
Tomorrow will be fine, 
There are so many wonders
Waiting to be revealed, 
All the good times and
Rainbows are yet to come, 
Tomorrow shall be mine. 
Tomorrow, tomorrow, 
God given tomorrow, 
Will put an end to all
My treacherous sorrow. 

Yeh, but....... 
What about the day after? 
The week end, The next month, 
The new year, a decade later?
What if it wouldn't turn out 
Like I want it to? 
May be a nightmare, a blood splatter, 
Insignificant like a mindless chatter. 
Or even catch a flu? 

Is tomorrow ever fine? 
May be, the optimistic halo 
"Happily ever after", 
Is a overrated lie, 
And painfully shallow, 
The ignorant hope, 
We unquestionably muster, 
In reality 
Will leave us flustered. 

May be, 
Every Heart break, 
And love, 
Pain and pleasure, 
Every loss and gain 
Are not evil nor good, 
Rather flavors ushered, 
In proportional measures, 
For life to have a blissful taste, 
And distinct leisures. 

Give me something to boast about- poetry

Give me something to boast about,
Can't you see that's what I want, Something to clear off insecurities,
Walk with head held high, Something to proudly talk about in gettogethers,
Make them gasp,
Something that stops me from looking down every time I meet an eye,
Let them look up,
Something that convinces me there is meaning to all this charade called life,
So that I want to wake up next time,
Something materialistic, something superficial, something shiny, something that shouts hierarchy.
Heck, I will even take moral superiority,
Something that throws spotlight at me.
So my optimistic human side, gains power over the rebellious cynic with the crown called pride.
Let it run over any question unanswerable, unfavorable.
Let pride blind me, let pride spoil me, let pride save me.
Let it cloak me with deluded self importance and self love.
Give me something to boast about.

Failure follows you

Envious inspiration

Nothing to say

I do feel,
Like I can feel,
I just don't know
What I feel,
There is just
Too many  layers
To peel,
Like  paragraphs
With no punctuations,
Products with no specifications,
They all get crowded,
Too soon, gang up,
In this itsy bitsy room,
Tangled to wrangle in,
Straggling way,
Mangling my brain,
All my feelings
Bleed away,
Leaving me with nothing
To say,
But empty words, barely appropriate
Cliche.

Illusion of reality

When you make stuff up,
All your life,
To amuse,
To be amused,
Interact, entertaining,
Relate,
To give an idea a form,
You lose the distinction,
Between a lie and truth,
Illusion seem more real
Than the reality.

Dark memories

I hope, I wish,
I could lie myself,
In to believing,
I was never that,
Culture my past In a petri dish,
Change all my regrets,
Just Inject and set.

It all seems like it was Yesterday,
Wait, was it yesterday?
I thought it was fun,
Nice and real,
But, it all looks so sinister now,
A cruel ordeal,
Since then,
I don't even know how
To blink, think,
To even talk,
I rather not,
So it doesn't come
Back to haunt me,
Like tiny pebbles in my Sock.

All you memories,
I don't need you please,
This little demon,
In my head,
Gets to dissect all my deeds,
With microscopic eyes,
Shuffling through,
To find a worthy "vice",
"You were wrong there,
There too impolite,
You don't really care,
Did you have to fight You are a monster,
A Monster, monster A parasite?".
This is already tough
Life is already a strife,
I don't need a tiny Little judge,
Poking with a knife,
I will not feed him anymore,
No memories I will make,
Nothing with people,
Nothing he can devour.

The four head's

The four heads,
The four heads,
The four heads,
they spin,
The four heads,
The four heads,
The four heads,
within,
In Unpredictable speeds.

The one head,
The longest,
The very last to fall,
It's a pre written Book,
You'll be hardly appalled,
Most times it's boring,
Sometimes it's sweet,
Jargon and jargon,
Rest safety and needs,
The stablest of them all.

The next head
Is not up there,
It's you know where,
Under layers of inner wear,
Starts with pleasure
Ends in guilt,
Grows with dirt,
It's a necessary filth,
Rabid eyes and an open mouth,
Fantasising, romanticising,
Dreaming and plotting,
Staring and spotting,
Ever ready to answer
A desperate maiden's call.

The third head the lightest,
The brightest of all,
The real dreamer,
The thinker, a stall
full of bouncing balls,
It drinks in water,
Tries to spray out the rain,
The optimist, the wanna be,
A maker in pain,
It has to satisfy the itch.

The fourth head the darkest,
Designed like a maize,
As you wander in,
You get lost without trace,
It keeps throwing rocks,
To keep you down,
Controls your strings,
you will dance like a
Sad sad clown,
Pins and needles,
Scrach maks on your skin,
Storms and uproars,
Whirlpool with enchors,
The horror in the mist.

PaaartY???!

My Life is a very big party,
Dark crowded stinky rooms,
An Ugly music always booms,
People in circles dance around,
Shouting obsene chorus sounds,
A few drunken girls,
Still giving you disgusted looks,
Many vomit stains,
A bunch of bran brains,
In brawling pains,
The sick kid sneezes
In your face,
The DJ, has bad music taste,
The bartender makes you wait,
Is flirting with his favored mates.
Happy pills effect worns out,
-OH now, or it will be freaking
Misery bouts,
A broken bottle finds your place,
Chug it all down,
Before it's stripped off
From your slate,
Too much of that burns your mouth,
To clear that out,
Give out a random shout,
Sniff this, Chew that,
Shake here, shout again,
Too much shaking
Makes ingredients bland,
The perfect mixup of lava land,
A tiny explosion in your head,
Soon you can't stand,
You can't walk,
Your pendulum swagger,
Is all over the park,
Few legs you bite,
Taste some hits,
Black eyes,
Face in swollen bits,
You somehow make it out,
But you still feel like shit,
A few faces sympathise,
They don't really want to help,
Just watch, mock, yelp,
No one to really pull you up,
Down in all fours,
Cheek on the ground,
feels rough,
So you pass out in a dirty corner,
Searching for bliss.

Conformist pigs

I hate to go on a rampage,
But I feel like this is
Right rage,
Why do you get the need,
To showel your filthy noses,
In everyone's business,
"This is the right way!,
You are doing it wrong,
Listen to what I say,
My ways are older
Than time, and day,
I know a few posh words,
I were a fancy dress,
My hair is always parted,
My shelves are always sorted,
I am diplomatic and nice,
I have most populistic opnions,
I must be so wise,
I am always right,
I am always right",
Bugger off kid,
You are not wise,
Being unoriginal is not wise,
It's means you are easily,
Impressionable,
And had a fancy school education,
Your ego has grown a bone,
And has to poke every hole,
You are the person
Who still confuses,
Dress with intelligence,
Words with manners,
Wealth with decency,
And never touched a spanner,
Someone who watches glee,
Don't mind me,
I don't wanna poke your insecurities,
But when everyone is familiar
With those fancy words,
And understand nice is not good
Piccaso is dead,
There was no Shakespeare before Shakespeare,
And begin to create their own style,
You will not be able to
Swim out of your conformist bubble,
Caught  in the back of the stupid race,
You created.

I don't want to hide.

Their eyes are not mirrors.

All your gods were rebels

A nobody

The stories I need.

Real stories to be told
Stories, stories, stories
I need to find,
Stories that would open
Make me unwind.

No stories of fictions,
Exaggeration, Depiction,
Nor Misguided perceptions.
But of people,
Living breathing-
From the mouth of dragon,
Stories of constant resurrection.

Stories of pained, broken
And stained,Contained,
And of valour, strength and love.
Of farmers, truckers,
Beggers, prostitutes and more,
Who fight with all honesty,
Though all closed doors.

The lions in common,
weeds for those wolves,
Isolated, scarred, abused,
But burning within.
Stories of diamonds among coals,
Not the one's polished and throned,
But one's which go clearly unseen,
They have great stories to be told.

Undefined

Social anxiety

Room full of people
I don't fear you,
All those judging eyes,
Cannot Pierce though
My defenses.

1) (one), My completely blank mind.
Leaving my head dislodged,
For a few temporary minutes,
So no thoughts ever cross.

2) (two), My fast paced walk.
Will leave your judgements,
Gasping for air,
As they cannot be followed,

3) (three), The very last chair,
Behind a trusted few,
Barriers that can conceal,
The Haven.

The familiar stranger,
I know I have to greet,
If you see any of these,
I am trying to.

1) (one), The curl of the lips,
Because, my full smile is creepy,
And if not reciprocated,
The curl is disguised as a twitch.

2) (two), The uninterrupted stare,
A sign of acknowledgement,
That I know you, "hey, there,
I have seen you around".

3) (three), The head nod,
Upwards, downwards, sideways,
Because my limbs are frozen,
This is all I could manage.

All my house guests,
Who I don't know personally.
I have to dodge,
The small talk and akward silences.
I have certain protocols.

1) (one), Not coming out,
Of my tiny lair,
My Scheming station,
If there is even a hint of visitors.

2) (two), When the door bell rings,
I go hide in my room,
Yes, even when I am over 20.
Never even turning to have a second look.
Let someone else deal with it.

3) (three), When caught off guard,
I stand up politely,
Offer you the place to sit,
Even if all the chairs are empty,
As I march off to my pit.

Free will?

The green disease

The green disease is spreading, Don't know when it started from, Millions have have fallen, All most everyone's got some, They hardly know it's a disease, Poor souls, it might be the wrath Of them old trees, that ceased, The green disease is spreading.

The green disease is spreading, It hardly needs a vector, Because people don't run away, It's something they work for, It's starts off as a thing, With a most essential value, It's seems to serve you, It then gives you this Euphoric high, A sense of delight, Makes you wanna try, A mirage of a better life, But slowly the symptoms Starts showing,
A tiny vortex within you Blows, steadily grows, It has to be fed, Need turns to greed, Once you worked For a roof and bread, Now for the paper in green, Some pieces of lead, And numbers on a computer screen.

The disease is spreading, It's bound to have casualties, The weak one's who couldn't Please, the vortex's greed, They are either hunted or Left behind, As the green disease latches on To someone better it could find.

Charlie Sheen- hiv

All I see is bigotry,
When I see them merrily 
Bashing a diseased man,
When the disease is HIV,
They make dick jokes,
Criticise the lifestyle,
"The big bloke,
had his worthwhile,
He had too many bitches",
The bitches in question are
People,
Who were pushed
To sell, for the need of a roof,
Some were fetched,
Diched, chose this,
Because they were feeble,
But that isn't the only way to get hit,
By HIV, there are newborns to
First timers.

Let's just say it is in this case,
'They should have seen
It coming, this is what you get,
When you sleep around',
So what,
"People who smoke get cancer,
Make fun of smoker with cancer,
People who live long get alzheimers,
Should'nt they have died sooner?
They have endemics don't live there!,
Accidents are bound to happen when
You drive bikes",
You don't have to sympathise,
If it's above you,
Don't fratenize with a disease
For a few likes,
And don't dance over the dying,
Eventually everyone is,
No matter how pure your life
Seems to be.