Aftermath.

The yellow brick road paved in my mind

is different from yours, since they're...

Obviously, mine

Why ponder on the numerical?

When one can explore the chimerical...

And seek the world's divine

The tangled red line which connects us all

As a self-considered creature of primal

From pinky to pinky

And stinkier to stinky

The ugly and the pretty

The great and the shitty

We would never make sense

As nothing would ever

Just like mathematics

in a medium filled with antics

Ever grey in a world so fantastic

So we might as well

We might as well 

Dive in to that well

To a another tale to tell

Hang ourselves in monkey bars,

Walking upside down

We'd might as well jump in and drown

and forget all of these frowns

Why measure with rulers

When you have your palms

Arms wide open, in a reality that promised no harm.

Billet-doux

Pushing our way against winds and tides with might

Wandering and lost, not knowing which is left & right

Our brains have betrayed us out of mind, out of sight

Our hearts dragging our feet, in search of sempiternal light

Our loneliness suffocates us in a hug that's too tight

Our sanity have crumbled to pieces & left these trails in spite

What was followed were not bread crumbs for the critters to bite

As we flew aimlessly, high in wonder, like a stringless kite

Our wires were snarled, thanks to the wind as it blew in fright

I thought I’ve seen your face before, grinning in delight

Now we're tangled together, in serendipity we reunite

With a fear of dark clouds & thunders pushing us to ignite

Setting both on fire, in midst of black & white

Either way, begins another story that shall excite

A code of a creeper begging for a a decipherer

Dark & bitter, just like how you would prefer

You're a piece of chocolate bar, the more the merrier

Cups of tea, with advice from the Mad Hatter

A sugar rush wrecking my brain for that matter

As these endorphins would climb up a ladder

Scoop out my heart; put it on a silver platter

Only to boost happiness, & then fall harder

No more room for the heart to break & shatter

Since sitting there are the words of a raconteur

A goofy downright charmer, & sickening flatterer

Redamancy, she scatter; Her babbles of the batter

A silent billet-doux for you; a love letter

My poems are ruined, but all is made better

Milk.

Dare you curse me with the word spoiled?
Like a carton of milk left in the sun for too long
Ungrateful for the light it has been bestowed upon
Losing its cool, leaving everyone fooled
For one could take a sip and spit my insides out
As they have been misunderstood
All the heat of emotions boiled within me
Absorbing what the rest have radiated
And all that's left is its sour stink
Manipulation is the least of my intentions
As I was once refrigerated
Satisfying till the last drop
Beneath what once was blissful
Rays of sunshine that gleams with the summer breeze
Sitting and waiting to be poured
In a bowl of artificial sugars
To a slobber filled dog bowl
Howling for the moon instead of you
Whom the sun does not revolve around
Yet your ego has convinced you
That you are the all mighty instead
At the slightest chance given
You would combust
And sooner or later i shall expire
Decomposing for the better
For the soils beneath me
To protect the rest from you
My insides were a dash peaceful
Contained beneath teats
For i am many things
But i was never a bundle like you
An explosion of the sour and the bitter
Hanging in the sky, amongst clouds
Though i might leave an after taste
As a refreshment
Calcium intake
Unexposed
Soon to be bacteria
And fungus
But dare i say
that you're the cause of my misery
The one who turned me spoiled
For i am contained and you roam free
It only occurs when you're around
Leaving my insides rot in your craddle
I am merely liquid trickling beneath your heat
Melting down cones of soft ice cream
As others would appreciate the beauty you project
On sandy beaches and green pastures
Without you i won't exist
The cows won't eat the grass you nurture
And i won't be poured into your nature,
which from time to time i regret.

If sentimentality were a kingdom,

If sentimentality were a kingdom, expectations would be the bricks to its walls, and as people come and go your imaginary friends would remain loyal as they lurk in the dark. I would hold its rusty throne made of the stuffed animals that’s been forgotten and they would crown me with the bottle caps I collected to remember stupid moments such as my juvenile junior high prom or the day I stumbled upon one in the middle of the road. They would hand me a bouquet of the numerous wild flowers picked by the innocents in their naïve and idle days and the whole room would be decorated with the moments captured on film, picture taken, some posters here and there, along with the candy wrappers and movie tickets we’ve all stored in our wallets all our lives.

Nostalgia is our best friend, and sorrow is our gravity. We dream of the vaguely remembered past and yearn for the future, as we drown in a pool of endless questions… only to find reality pulling your leg and nobody really knows when it tries to suffocate you or save you instead.

Youth in Revolt

Lost in midst of ambivalence, in shadows of failure we lurk

With a story begging to be told, on both ends of each smirk

But the gleam in our pupils can't be contained

And the energy within us shan't be sustained

We'll crawl across the river we cried

We'll sing amongst the songs we sigh

As those, those who can't be controlled

Those who shall eventually run the world

yours truly, Raunala Maruti.

Kittens

Living becomes a mistake when you’re a pair of recently born kittens meowing in abandonment, in search for a love they have never been introduced to, a love that oils and fuels the gears within their wondrous body and weary bones, a love that revives and welcomes them, shooing away their agonizing hunger.

I saw them squeaking, and I heard them moving as they beg and come knocking at the ever might’s door. Could it be that it’s bad karma? Hell at it’s own form seen through the eye of reincarnation?

I tried giving them milk, but what is it to them? It’s merely liquid poured into a cap of a juice bottle given by a monster bigger than them. A monster, hundreds of times they’re size - bloated with things they’ve never got to learn, consume, and experience.

They actually received care, but they didn’t know what it is. They didn’t know that it could shower them with life.

For care is not necessarily love, and love doesn’t always mean that one must care.

We’re all born ignorant, and so I retreated. Through the walls they continue crying, piercing me with guilt for there’s nothing I can do. I have never been a cat person, but this is also a form of unrequited love. It’s a less egotistic form, one that’s actually worth thinking about. The wailing slowly dumbs down, and I silently wish them a rest in peace, in the holy heavens above with flowing rivers of nutritious milk.

To their mothers, I wish you could have known better but I understand that you’re just a cat and I am not felinely enlightened.

To those with bad karmas,  we shall all get through it.

And to the egotistic, I am also sad and ashamed of myself.

My human form disgusts me.

Yet another mindless morose rant from yours truly. Happy Sunday!

Gasoline Love.

If relationships does stink, it would probably smell like gasoline. 

Flammable, intoxicating, but weirdly addicting. 

Which is why i always carry a lighter in my pocket just incase, 

so i suggest you all stop rubbing all your romancing in my face.

Fuel me up with some loving,

I'm getting romantically hopeless by the minute.

Cruising fast, crashing, and falling -

I'm black and blue only for you and your wit.

Away.

The train's leaving, with me or without

I can hear my name being called, but it's a distant shout

A nervous watch on one hand, in every second i was slapped by doubt

A wilting flower on the other, in the end i remain seated with a pout

It'll happen when it happens, & it will happen with its own reasons

Others will evolve & so will you, as we continue to dance with the current season

Another busy day, i can hear the shoes of strangers screeching in their conversations

As i watch the petals of my flowers fall, pieces of me scream melodiously in unison

I need water for my flowers

I need water for this dry soul

Youth wrinkles in thought-filled showers

& not all of us can fit into a fish bowl

Moron

Here I write a story of a girl whose guts come and go

And a boy she cannot read, one who goes with the flow

Almost everyday she checks the theater’s latest shows

With a thought that to him, she’s just his pathetic movie bro

They would share a bucket of popcorn together

And she would lay her head on his shoulder

Awkward or not, the thought she didn’t even bother

Perfect for the popcorn, her heart melts like butter

They would laugh at the cheesy things together

And carefully not touch the hands of one another

And when it comes to blood, gunshots, and many other

Hiding her face behind his back makes ever

ything better

Before the show they would get something to eat and have lunch together

They would chat and all that and she would have a smoke or two after

He’d either say he doesn’t smoke anymore even if he still does or ask for a cig

Either way, to her every scene built her expectations and it was something big

They would walk around together as she rants on and on

For she talks a lot, and the boy listens and leads her on

And after the date, she would put her thinking cap on

Realizing that when around him she’s such a moron

Being Blue

From the skies which hide the countless stars that may fall
To the endless and waving sea which conquers us all
It calms and cools, as both fishes and clouds pass by
The colour blue which depicts our continuous sigh
The colour of the throat chakra, of self expression
Of heaven, which promises happiness to every creation
Of clear and transparent water, and adaptation
Among other things, it represents both truth & eternity
So, there's actually an inspiring moral in feeling sad and shitty
In being in love my dear girls, for them boys are symbolised with blue
And trust me, in that department i'm feeling the same shade too
Far from drowning, from flying, and also falling
It creates a wall in life, that cages us from escaping
The feeling, the tint, keeps us grounded in the centre
Thus, being blue creates rooms for the better