Everything went so bad so fast
And all I wanted was not to let that feeling last
And last it did
Beyond immeasurable hours
Or atleast it felt that way
That the whole world around me was tumbling down
Like I’m just a face with a frown, who’s waiting for my feelings to drown
Eyes swollen, heart heavy
Here we go again
Let’s make the car go revvy
New hopes, new dreams, new internal screams
A new year, shifting gears, here we go again, trying to make sense of the moving trains
No comparison, no resemblance, just one day after another, trying to do best for self without letting social media affect my progress
Do we write only when we’re upset? I remember being reflective about things when I had anxiety
Not that I sail through life with ease now, but practicing gratitude has helped me immensely
If I’m back to writing today, does it mean I’m in my thoughts where I’m contemplating a change again?
Back to WordPress, where things feel somewhat easy, people across the globe looking at what I write, some even relating to my plight
Weary mind,
Teary eyes,
What is this world where everyone cries?
Trying to find my craft
In this dim-lit path
That has been left for me
In the cultural aftermath
Some say love is one,
Love is blind, how love is so kind.
But what about those who say:
Love is pain, to love is shame, as it only leaves you feeling disdained.
On one hand, hope is a good thing. Maybe the best of things. But, on the other hand, it is an undiscovered disappointment.
A thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts, it’s a privilege to be among them
everyone around you is making plans
all you want
is to get away
run away from it all
because being around people
makes you feel
like you’re under a perilous scan
you apologize, to escape from the plan
because they just wouldn’t understand
what it feels like inside your head
like misery galore, I think
you give these excuses so lame
that they got no option, but to look at you with pity and shame
you know that everyone wants what’s best for you
but no one sees, how it really feels
to be thrown everyday into the unknown
and how it just never heals
you don’t want to trouble anyone
by explaining, what you are having to endure
because each has their own struggles
on such a spree, that makes them unsure
© Lishaka Gulati
how is it
that the person who gives you the most, takes away even more, unknowingly, unflinchingly
how is it
that in the starting few months of your love story, you love ever so deeply but still stay insecure and fragile
how is it
that your most alone moments after a fight or an argument are spent in isolation but still surrounded by the glimpses of the ‘other’
how is it
that sometimes we want to stop fighting but our body physically makes it impossible for us to do so
how is it
that we feel so much for our relationships and our familial issues and yet don’t care enough for all the wrongdoings going on in our country
how is it
that we are built this way? to care so much and yet not at all
and why is it
that to awaken our sense of nationalism, I am writing a poem that begins with love and relationships merely to get everyone’s attention
quietly, stealthily
I walk
trying to not be noticed
by the owners of this property
I don’t know
how I came to enter this place
but now that I’m here
I never want to leave this space
it’s so beautiful
white like the cocaine
as far as the eyes can see
I’m so glad, that the gates were opened, to this monumental grace
while I stood in my waiting line
waiting to be entered, into my hellish state
I should forget about that, now
that’s past me
I’ve to just try
at my own steady pace
to move around this serene solace
that the guards fondly called paradise
quietly, stealthily
I walk
trying to not be noticed
by the owners of this property
I don’t know
how I came to enter this place
but now that I’m here
I never want to leave this space
© Lishaka Gulati
words come to you
but then, they drift off
before you could even make sense of them
or write them down
they leave you wondering
that you aren’t good enough
for them to stay
that how even the devil won’t take you
because the devil, too, has standards some
oh, the negativity
takes a toll on you
one fell swoop
and you begin the process, of undervaluing yourself
such solitary life
that even words don’t stick around
is this what people call misery?
it surely must be
the words are starting to come back to you, again
you must concentrate
before they get away
so, you submit, like christ on the cross
but then, they again drift off
before you could even make sense of them
or write them down
© Lishaka Gulati
you strive and for what
what’s the point
you tire yourself and for what
what’s the point
doesn’t make sense
all this pretense
you work for someone else
what’s the point
they tell you what to do
and you do it
they tell you, how to do it
and you do it
really, what’s the point
maybe you’ll quit your job today
yes, you should do it
now you work for yourself
you are free
you’re also fearful
so, what’s the point
the point is, that today
we’ll help you
alter your approach
that’s the point
the point is, that today
we’ll help you
instill an impression
of copiousness
in yourself
that’s the point
because there are things, many
in this universe, unbridled
all ready for you
so don’t just survive
live and live free
that’s the point
© Lishaka Gulati
someone comes up to me
and says something nice
all I can think about, is wanting to flee
for how could someone say such vice
my body reflexes on the compliment and immediately reacts with “what the hell man, now why did you say that for?”
my hand, meanwhile, reaches for my wooden bedside table and I mutter the words “touch – wood” and at the same time, stare at the person in disbelief, with a glare
now what does that term even mean
it’s a rhetorical question, so leave it clean
I don’t know how I even started using that term
maybe I picked it off from my mother
who ardently believes that this would ward off evil intentions that people sometimes tend to cover
I use this term a lot
and whenever I do so, I tend to always get caught
whenever a compliment comes my way
I tend to make a face and try to get away, to my wooden bedside table to say those golden words and save my day
why did I only mention, my wooden bedside table
well, I’m always in bed, that’s why I said
so you don’t end up feeling, like you’ve been misled
© Lishaka Gulati
never won
never lost
just never tried
kept still
never moved
scared
of free will
eyes shut
heart closed
turned away
from everything that grows
never cared
never shared
oh, so much despair
never won
never lost
just never tried
© Lishaka Gulati
it’s windy, and also a little chilly
but I don’t know if it’ll rain or not, really
it’s thundering now
but I still don’t see any raindrop on the ground
so, basically, what I’m trying to say
is that what has to happen, will happen
in its intended way
then why can’t I just enjoy the weather
for the way the wind feels and the sweet smell that it brings
without anxiously waiting for the end – result or the rain to begin
it’s Friday, I’m sitting near my half – opened windows
looking at the way the plants sway in their pots
and suddenly, I see the raindrop
the faint drops falling on the ground
and look how the Earth’s surface gets wet
the wind and the smell is now upset
because the rain has made people to forget
the weather is still windy
there is lightning now and thunder in the clouds
and I wait for the heavy rain to occur
because that’s the result of this weather, don’t you concur
there is no appreciation of the wind
or how dark it becomes on a Friday afternoon
just the pining need for the end – result, to happen soon
constantly thinking about, will it happen and, how will it happen
why can’t I just be in the now? instead of continuously waiting for the baton
it’s Friday today and this is how I describe my feelings, this day
we’ll see the way, of how tomorrow conveys
© Lishaka Gulati
so, what will it be today?
he asked, gently
exquisite manners or basic instincts?
© Lishaka Gulati
Poetry by Lishaka 