Teenage

Apocalypse constantly creeps near
Perishing planets aren’t surprising anymore
As all news numbs the mind to fear
I’m not even worried what the world has in store

Calm washes over now,
Reading through horrors of history
We know not what the future will endow
But nor did the past peasants; our ancestry!

We have never faced these particular threats before
The world warms, warning one of its wastes and wants
But unprecedented threats? For them we have experience galore
Can’t let them get the best of me; the apocalypse’s taunts

I refuse to wring my hands and sweat about oncoming doom
But I refuse to resent those that passionately preach the public
Of these unprecedented threats which loom
For without them, we would have never escaped unprecedented pickles

this room is small
like my world is now small
caged inside a wall
that separates us all
wishing we could touch hands

life feels like porridge these days
but not the creamy exciting kind
the kind that tastes like walls.

Light,
I want to write.
Harness the sun and trap it upon A4
until it melts into words, inky gold reflections in your eye.

To become the North Pole,
where every light that dances in the dark and pours into day
Be the south.
Then, to stretch out my arms and pluck every wisp from magnetic skin,
words fresh in glowing bulbs,
and put them in a fluffy sock to keep warm.

I would let them spill ,
Rushing like a river to glint over your head let them flood you.
Run down the slope of your nose and drip over where your lips meet,
Eyes flickering in dark waxy pools.
I have done it,
love contained on a single thin slice of a tree’s wisdom,
laid eager and crisp in open palms.

Read;
For a lone star in uncertain murky sea,
You never cease to dazzle me,
The light of my life.

Life has gotten more perplexing,
Since the last time I bothered to think about it
Its twists and turns are wild and vexing
All basic foundations toppling bit by bit

Perhaps it has always been this baffling
And I, as a child, had been simple in mind
But the brain’s biochemical processes, rumbling and rattling
Can they ever be truly be described as “simple”?

I think it is just words which I did not have
To describe my emotions and my thinking
A person’s thought is as complex
As the extent of language which they comprehend

Two Years, Eleven Months and Eighteen Days
Taken to draft the longest constitution on Earth
Ideals immortalised onto paper, envisioned within essays
Purna Swaraj; A curry of cultures, these documents birthed

Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity;
Three words bought by blood, by people willing to die
People of these vast region, united in their diversity
These are the sacred scriptures of India we swear by

Another Republic Day looms upon the country,
Seventy two years, since our shot at independence
Although we have faced strife in our struggles to be free
This revered text has given us a chance for a paragraph in history…

Heroes never die
Heroes always live on,
They’re like beautiful phoenixes
They rise from the ashes,
Heroes never die
Heroes are never forgotten
They’re written down in history,
Anyone can be a hero
Even you and me,
Heroes never die
Heroes push themselves as far as they can go
They earn scars along their journey,
Their journeys are as long as can be
They leave their whole world behind,
Heroes never die
Now they’re calling out your name
Hear their voices say,
RISE! Rise from the ashes
It’s your turn to be a hero and become a legend,
Go down in history because
Heroes never die.

The moon low in air
and high in jump
how will you get there
go up, up, up in the sky at night
you see it’ll come out of light too.
Aim high and gravity low
you will soon see it go.
The moon will go and come watching you go

it’s friendly
it’s hot
it’s the beach
it has children in the swirls of the sea
castles everywhere to be seen
people in their swimsuits or lying in the sun
its waves cool
the sun so hot that they fight for the amazing beach
the raging beams and the cool cool water
together on the beach forever
for the people’s sake
for the the beach

As deep as the ocean
As dense as the forests
I look at you, and I feel like looking into the eyes of an abyss
I get lost in the swirls and waves
The spirals which you make
Moustache to be admired
Moustache to be curled like an evil villain
Some desire a lover to complete their soul
While some are incomplete without a beard

It grows, big and thick
Then its metaphorical eyes widen in horror
As it sees something nearing
It is the razor,
About to take its life
It pleads and pleads
But gets washed away in the basin
Shaving is murder

Unpredictability of creatives
The burden, sometimes, carried with ease
Heavy as the stars, sometimes light as a breeze
Some days each word spoken is great and profound
And others, within the chains of language and ambition one is bound

Each paint stroke makes a masterpiece, with good, sunny luck
At times, every attempt at draughtsmanship just plainly sucks
Consistent quality comes, with time and skill
Bad days will come, and haunt you still

When words waste away, in catacombs of the brain
When with pretty pictures, no serotonin will you gain
These days will pass, I console myself
Drowning myself in media, and the books on my shelf

Hoping, praying, with undulated fear
That the bad days will end,
instead of sucking all motivation and cheer