About Me

My photo
This blog is named after one of my poems. Even thought its not the best of the lot, I just fell in love with those words- The Psyche Unknown...

Monday, October 17, 2016

Have mercy!

So it's that time of the year again,
When I typically mislay my rein,
I fumble and tumble in the horrid rain,
I do plead, receiving nothing in gain.

I blame it on the source,
The life, the giver of gifts of course,
No, not the man all believe, hidden in the cloud,
The one beyond who is wrapped in a shroud.

Indeed the sun; why does he hide?
Doesn't he know that he is my guide,
I'm lost under the clouds with no time to bide,
Darkness soaks me like a ruthless giant tide.

How can I think when -
a single thought doesn't stick,
Millions of them fired with every passing tick,
In what earthly conscience do I pick?

How can I breathe when-
the air is so slick and,
rushing in all directions;
I may as well be hit by a brick.

Come out of the shadows, oh dear sun,
Let my words of yesterday be undone,
Brighten my soul and warm up my skin,
The light around is really too thin.

Toying with my mind,
are things not so kind.
I need you not to turn blind,
In my moment of need-
-don't leave me behind.

Force the dark clouds away from the crowds,
For I tend to linger amongst the trouts,
Lifeless and mindless, I stagger in my strut,
Have mercy, before my dreams are forced shut.

Stir me tight and steer me right,
With those sorcerous, warm rays of might,
Have you no compassion towards my plight?
What must I slay to win this fight?


Wednesday, October 12, 2016

The broken arrow

The mind wandered like a broken arrow,
Desire crept in with its tendrils narrow,
Twining with the present and pulling me away
far, far from the still winds of May.

Away from the sun, close to the haze,
There laid out, was a deathly maze
of traps so brazen, I shuddered to enter,
Unwilling to meet again, the tormentor.

The breath intensified as the heart pounded,
The transgressed arrow deliriously floundered,
Picking up the pieces, I find myself thick
in the garden of snares and fences that trick.

I edged past an exploding shell,
Dodged a bullet running through hell,
While from a distance, I hear an alluring call,
Unaware, I scarper in hope towards my fall.

The oasis I sought was an illusion of dew,
Glamored by the melody and the pitch so new,
The psyche unknown had staggered through,
Reviving the foolish old wounds, not so few.

The broken arrow never finds the mark,
Or so I'm reminded by the tormentor very stark,
The mirror, the light, the shadows and sense,
together sing the insistent tale sans pretense.

I try to patch the arrow in time,
Before the dew disappears amidst the chimes
of a clock that sprints but never bends,
Only to realize that a broken arrow never mends.


Friday, February 19, 2016

The mighty fools

The broken bead of crimson blob,
Recites a twisted tale of a mob,
Of chaos, of dissent, of contempt and malice,
Of poison served in a covetous chalice.

They trust their thought in matters not bare,
Citing a title or an accolade not rare,
Heads in the clouds, trampling the ground,
Walk they do, with stupidity profound.

They scream, they cry, of wars very wry,
Hailing a slayer who painted the sky-
In red, in horror, in repulsion and dismay,
Dispirited are the kin of those who were slayed.

Entitled they feel, certain as a rock,
Imbecilic minds that gather amok,
Mocked are the crusades of the selfless guardians,
Those protectors of the land, those carriers of order.

They cry foul, when logic prevails,
Leaving no room for truth or details,
Spewing disarray like venomous snakes,
Are the others who join with vested stakes.

They accomplish their goal at the cost of the land,
For money, for power, for the thrills so bland,
Creating anarchy, dividing households,
Fare they do like roofs and moulds.

I stand far and watch alarmed,
Lost, alone and feeling disarmed,
With the mighty fools skittering about,
What can I do but pen this with a doubt.