It’s okay if you’re not okay sometimes!

You wake up
Head hammered
Under the weight of the night
Wasted in self loathing.
Slog yourself to the day
Your face in the mirror
Dull, tired and bloated.
You nibble on the slice of bread
And down it with a glass of juice.
Your tongue still tastes bitter.
You can sense it coming to possess you – something dark , nauseating and unwanted.

You rise up and dress yourself for work.
Dab some colours to silent the exhaustion your face screams.
Go out to face the world,
Meet some dozen faces
Put up a false show.
The faceless energy still lingers an arms distance wriggling its slimy tentacles to reach you.

You engage with the people
Trying hard to distract your mind.
Your limbs go numb.
The more you resist the more it grips you from the leg upward.

You run to the restroom with uneven steps
You feel choked on your own breath.
Detachment from reality seeps in,
You flounder.

Drop the mask!
It’s okay if you’re not okay sometimes.

Self – Sacrifice – is it?

You acclaim with an air of prowessness saying you sacrificed,

Huh! do you even know what it’s like?

Have you tasted the bitter gall as it chokes you down the neck?

Have you floundered at night,
beads of perspiration trickling down your spine at the thought of what you’ve missed?

No! not yet.
You’ve been wearing that self proclaimed badge of altruism not knowing why.

Self sacrifice is when you dissolve your ‘self’ and embrace the other.

Rest mere acts of sugar-coated condescent.

© Wordpolitics

Poison only tastes like poison until you’ve swallowed it!

I always wondered what it tastes like
the infamously famous potion featured in most of the Bollywood scenes.
Is it bitter or sour?
Or does the rancour taste sweet? Sweetness that kills!
Until last,
out of curiosity though,
well, yes the situation was opportune too.
You know, the melodramas that come with ‘love’.
I popped the cork
And peeked inside.
Harmless looking volume
of bluish green,
resting in eternal peace.
Tilted the vial and swirled the inside.
Ah! it’s alive, it moves.
I held the bottle near to my nose
and took a sniff
Doesn’t smell death.
Held in my hand for an entire minute
then suspended my thoughts.
Succeeding it,
drained the bottle empty down my oesophagus,
it went sloshing down the pipe
and disappeared somewhere as it reached the chest.
I stood there waiting for a burning sensation in my insides,
but in vain.
Twiddled my thumbs,
took an involuntary breath
through my mouth open wide.
Damn! I need a repose.
As I drew the blinds over my eyes
I was transported to an enchanted island,
Yes! one similar to Shakespeare’s.
I was lost in space
in wander and wade.
Until a sharp fern
prickled my leg.
Ouch! that hurts.
It will said the wobbly nurse
aa she readied for the inject, terse.
Then I gathered my sense.
Poison only tastes like poison
until you’ve swallowed it!

© Wordpolitics

(Please support my insta poetry page @wordpolitics)


The pathway is through an orb of blinding light.
Strange! My feet don’t touch the ground but glides through the ethereal Realm.
Before I collect my sight,
I find me lying on the shore
With no piece of drape.
Specks of light vaporising from my skin,
melting into the sweet night.
The moon pours her light,
bathes me in a luminous glaze.
Fair maidens with gauzy wings,
encircle chanting prayers.
The nymphs come flitting by and
adorns me with a wisteria crown-chaste.
Harmonious melody flowing from
Orpheus’ lyre ballads in the air.
There comes her deity,
the pale faced Styx.
Gently, she caressess by skin,
a gaze loving to the eyes.
She wounds her sparkling train around,
takes me in her care.
Rocks me in her lap,
lulls me to a stare.
Harmonious melody flowing from
Orpheus’ lyre ballads in the air.
She then draws back
from whence she came
me cradled in her wave.
Thus ferries me to the other side,
the side I know not where.

© Wordpolitics

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Under the Greenwood Tree

I sit under the Greenwood Tree

The Barn Owl plays the symphony.

The thought of you possess my mind

It aches in places, undefined.

The sands of time slip quick they say

Each grain for me is yesterday.

Rummaging through the days bygone

I hold on to the fondest one.

I sit thus till the evening dies

And with it fades my blush and smile.

The Raven croaks and winds the day

My sequestered soul but longs to stay.

© Wordpolitics

( Please support my insta poetry page @wordpolitics )


There’s this electricity in my bloodstream

A twitch here and a spasm there.

You could sense it with a careless stroke

Reverberating through your skin.

This abnormal surge of appetite

Does nothing but grow in your presence.

Ah! Those lips, moulded fresh out of clay

Fragile, I wouldn’t want to waste.

Just Behold!

And drink the elixir from those deep set eyes.

© Wordpolitics

‘Father’s Day!’ , A day of reflection and confessions.

Fathers Day!
Social media today is flooding with pictures of ‘Dads’ with notes of gratitude and love.
My heart exults when I see this.
This relationship often shadowed under the facade of the mother is however beautiful.

Till date I have never wished my father on this special day.
Do not mistake this as my sheer callousness.
Not that I do not love him, instead I love him much more than my words could state.
When I learned that today was this special day I wanted to wish him, in fact the words grew on my mind but then remained suspended on my lips , not traveling henceforth.
An unknown force possessed me and I held back the words.

There was a time in the days of my budding youth when I despised him.
His very existence filled my eyes and my heart with vile.
My hatred pivoted to such a degree that I even wished him to just disappear!
Today the very thought fills me with disgust and self loathing.

The day still runs vivid on my mind…
It was my birthday, must be fifteenth or sixteenth.
As always the starting of this day would initiate with paying a visit to the shrine of lord Shiva.
Hence we followed the ‘tradition’.
On the way back my dad said he wanted to take us to this restaurant that was then famous for it’s ‘chicken cutlets’.
Before he had even completed his sentence I shunned the idea blatantly on his face.
The emotions that developed on his face that moment- an amalgamation of sadness, worthlessness,rage and a lot more , haunts me till date.
The reason I denied was because I didn’t want to be seen with him.
Yes I was ashamed of the very fact that he was my dad.

This seed of hatred towards him was sown in my mind since a very small age.
My father was into ‘substance abuse’ and this affected the very ambiance at home.
Dissentions, fights , wallowing, the screamings and the long silence that followed were nothing but breathing to us.
Living in a joint family things went much intense.
So when the kids of my age were playing with barbies and out with their parents I was trying to find my ‘home’ that I was longing for.

I have seen my dad go through the worst phases of his life.
Guilt, shame, wrath, frustration, rejection, branding he’s seen it all.
However with maturity I began to develop a soft corner towards him and this yielded into a full blossom of love and respect with age.
And I appreciate my mom’s patience ,in the manner in which she stood by my day.
Never shaken to a bit by the societal conformities.
Hats off to this lady whom I adore so much!

Today we are a beautiful family, content at least.
I love my dad with all his flaws and more than that I respect him.
I ain’t ashamed of his past doings to a least bit.
Although he’s not done anything big or achieved something great but yes!
he is my superhero and my greatest strength.

I tried to make this day special in my own subtle ways.
I baked a cake for us and conveyed the message with silent gestures.
I may not shout out to the world saying I love him or write it over social media but I am grateful that I was born to him.

“you may not be the best dad in the world
but the very fact that your my dad
is bliss for me!”

© Wordpolitics

A lot can happen over coffee!


How my heart leaps

And I see me there.

Seated next to the window

The aroma of brewed coffee fills the air.

I peek out the window

And there my gaze rests.

A bare tree in the distant

What more worthy could be a stare?

The rain spills,

My hands embrace the cup.

Suddenly the thought of you possess my mind

Sauntering down the stairs.

I hope to steal a glance

As I sip the concoction black.

© Wordpolitics

Somewhere in the Woods

A cold night

The weeping willows.

The fireflies

The lake that’s shallow.

The old tree that’s glaring up

Yearning for his mistresses love.

The soft breeze that whistles low

The dancing leaves footing slow.

In the fade the hooting owl

Sings the chorus gathered hounds.

My soul there sits observing these

I close my eyes eternal bliss!

© Wordpolitics

Her only fault was she trusted the so called “humans”.

It fills me with nothing but disgust when I see the face of humanity around.
Are we even fit to be called humans anymore?
The very same proud creatures who called themselves human based on their ability to reason have been reduced to no more than what the famous writer Jonathan Swift once called;

“pernicious race of little
odiois vermin that nature
ever suffered to crawl upon
the surface of the earth”.

Evidences to prove the barbarism of humanity has been writ everyday on the papers since times immemorial.
However what I read today has shattered the very basis of my existence.
A pregnant elephant who had been caught in stagnant water for days breathed her last today.
The life forming in her womb ended along with her.
You must be thinking why the death of an elephant caught in a flood fills me with such rage. .
The reason for her death will for sure writhe your heart too.
The poor and helpless life had been caught there for three days and hence was hungry as she was with a featus.
She must’ve felt delighted when she saw traces of humans at a distance.
Hoping that they’ve come to her rescue her heart must’ve exulted.
However little did she know the true nature veiled behind the mask of “humanity”.
She was fed on pineapples stuffed with firecrackers which she devoured taking it as an act of compassion and empathy which however served too fatal for her.
What was her fault to deserve such cruelty?
How could a man stoop so low as to impose such acts of brutality on a voiceless life?
Didn’t that person at once feel a prick of conscience?
There are innumerable questions which rise in our minds when we see such acts of monstrosity.
The answers we get are almost none.
Can a mere penalty of a few thousand bucks or a year or two in prison compensate to this loss of life?
However it is a question to ponder on.
We don’t deserve to be called humans until we are able to win over our animalistic drives.

© Wordpolitics