Wrath of Music



Tragedy struck the sunken leaf,
Complex far, a tasty grief,
Never more the bird did sing,
Harbinger of silver ring.

Melody means the hearty theme,
The broken rung of salty grim,
The tea leaves now are way too dark,
What we need is just a spark.

Sailing on the healing wounds,
Dusty wetly path,
Savour all the rhyming tune,
Music has its wrath.


The Psychopath



The psychopath was hell en route,
Pain aching lefty tooth.
Baulked by the burning root,
Waiting for his friends’s boot.

The gall in his heart was way too dense,
His mouth still had the stinky stench.
Envy had him fully drenched,
Madness was the only bench.

He spit on the cleanest hand,
Now no one else but few do stand.
The bird with a greedy eye,
The disillusioned cloudy sky.

The psychopath will meet his mirror,
Which shows the crimes of past error.
Does the freak now feel the terror,
What tells him the magical mirror?

Does his eyes now feel to cry,
Evil worn out , time to pry.
Goodness needs just one more try,
Or we will free him…..the caustic fry..!!!

A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss



The transfer order has come
Another gloomy day, ends with rum
Tequila , scotch , vodka , wine,
This farewell party, nothing seems fine.

To some it reads the lucky charm
Prudent timing did no harm.
Another scope to scale the peak
A glimpse of hope for the weak.

But let not stain the test of time
He will leave tomorrow , back he wont come.
New city, new dream
Awaits him , awaits him.

But memories past, wicked lust,
Ray of love , cigarette dust?
Is all that he left behind?
No soul to cheer
Nobody to hear
His bosoms cry.

The money-flukes crave
For the weakest , weakest brave!
The labyrinth of this verse:
Is it solitude or a curse?
And all his pain of loss…
A rolling stone
gathers no moss.

There is more to it than meets the eye.



The suspended officer is back again
Mere dance of pen and paper,
Look through the glass and he finds the chair
His powerful chair, his forever.

Or for just a few years more
Before his wet socks get sore,
Before his tie gets too rough
His guilty sinew, weaker than tough.

Gullible to mind, credulous to soul,
His heart was dead long, no humour left to troll,
He lives a necro-monger
Poor mortals shouts
Bribe, harassment, ambrosia
The toughest odd-one-out.

Yet lied a story behind the scene,
The transition of crime, from out or within.
Did he see his old mom killed?
Poverty, fame, poverty, shame,
Life he knew needs him, life is THE game.

The stars can hide in the clearest sky
There is more to it than meets the eye.



It’s March, women’s month? Sorry, it was just a day. Women’s day! Wasn’t it a normal day?  Certainly not, on social media. The day is not a freebie. Neither is respect. What is so good about women that we need to celebrate? Do we really need to?

When a boy is born, we deck him up in blue. But when it’s a girl, it’s all pink. Why? What’s the logic?

Why’s a baby girl’s birthday present a cookery set? While boys get remote controlled cars. Aren’t we teaching our little girls that their place is in the kitchen?


Why are boys always told “Don’t cry like a girl?” Why? Are tears different for a boy and a girl?

Why is it that when a guest comes home, the girl is asked to make tea. The boy might be sitting right there but is never asked. And boys who do so are not acting like “girls”. They are being “boys” whom girls like.

If a girl spreads her legs and sits, a swift remark flies in, “Sit properly. Girls don’t sit like that.” Why? Is it just a man’s right to sit comfortably?

When men wear shorts, it’s cool. When women do so, it’s hot! Why?

Why is a mother’s presence considered bad luck in a son’s marriage?

Why do girls have to be ‘given away’ in marriage? Logic?

We’ve all heard of ‘working moms’. Have you ever heard of ‘working dads’?

Why can’t women do funeral pyre or last rites of parents?

Why do we always say ‘Girls are second to none”? It’s as if we are resigned to the fact that they are second.

Why do girls have to be reminded “We’ve given you enough freedom”?

Unconsciously there at the back of all our minds, isn’t it?

Why do age old traditions always have to be harsh on women? Why does modernizing have to celebrate womanhood and freedom of women? Why does it have to be either of the extremes?

Goddesses or Vamps!

Why can’t things be normal? Uncelebrate. Let them be. It makes them happier.