Bird in my Head

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I sit in a dark room thinking about darkness
I have a glass of blood in my hands
And a bird flies quietly in my head
I do not know why
I will sit here. For hours to come. And minutes and seconds
Thinking about darkness
All the light that I lost
And I cannot look around me
There is a bear which plays the flute
And I do not understand why
There is darkness around me
And I am the light.
And soon I’ll burn myself out
As I burnt my candle turning it into the wildfires
The ghosts play the piano
And I can not dance
But I do not know why
I can hear laughter and people talking
But it must be all in my head
Yet I do not know why

Hollow

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I was haunted by the hollow of my hand
What is in it. Why
I was disfigured by the death in my eyes
Who died. Why
I was shattered by the quivering of my soul
How did it happen. Why
I was looking at the curve of my lips
Which way did they go. Why
I sat with myself once
I danced with myself once
I dreamed within myself once
Who was I supposed to be. Why

Shards

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Shards of broken down time
Your hand in mine
A blackbird flew over the trees
The mountains hid the sunset
Your hand in mine
Glory days which are and were
Next would be dunes of sand
Buried deeply in a death sublime
The broken dreams were bigger
Than broken shadows
And promises which were kept alive
Your hand in mine
Till the day I change the course
Of the tides
Till the day I turn into a stone
Till the moment I cannot wait
And see the devil I have become
And the purity quite there
Hidden under the world that was never

My hand in mine
And eyes drifting away
Watching the blackbird turn grey

Surrender

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Surrender now!
O ye ghosts of passion
For if the night sways forth
Then there will be crimes
And then ballads written
And yearning will take place
Like white crystals along a hazy daze
Or a black sky
And lanterns made of pearls
And red silken blood
So who will the daybreak take
As its rabid hero
Who hath turned into a villain
And so
All the bonds were broken
Among the filthy rags
Which we call men
Thus—
O ghosts of wisdom
Come take their place
Those who were dark wisps
Of grey

Sezone

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“Look out for the summer within the weather with the autumn-y eyes the cloudy mind and those winter laden eyes which have seen the Monsoon rains shower or perhaps that heart made from the Hurricane which swipes away the land and leave behind a spring–of rosy lush with green brazen hills which look like the rustic evening of a day which is draped with ornaments from the night. Yes you! You with summer foreclosed and winter foretold and with the winds of change. the unconquerable ones. Shadows and fog like dances of the wolves, the Summer would cease and alive shall you be. Yes, you!”

Harekat

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The place between nature and humanity is serenity. It is that bridge where if we stand in bliss which is known as silence–we will feel the heartbeat of Earth. It is that crossroads which does not ask to be traveled..but just begs for stillness. And we often ignore the pleads. That is why we do not know that such a place even exists, where blue is a blur and green is a cloud. This place is where we find ourselves. Outside we find earthbound things. Then they fly past us. But we never hear silence talk