I have done the sin

 

Mother, I have done the sin,
I cant feel what they feel within.
Am an artist made of stone.
Blind, like the sun in the night,
walking on a road with holes.
I cant feel the colors.
That differs a skin from the other.

Noise, like a swarm of bees in the wind,
I cant hear the music.
In temples, and mosques,All appears to be the same.

words, like a woman born in the sea,
I cant listen to the song of the grass.
When mountains and stone share the same sky,
I cant see languages cry.
For I am just a stone.

An incorrect artist to the rights of the world.

[Courtesy= Gururaj Raghavendra

Sony salma Priyadarshin]

Papers cannot hold the rain

Papers cannot hold the rain,
neither will water remain
like cigarette ashes on tray,
Alcohol on your lips wont stay.Neither will I.
But in a corner in me, the sin will lie.
...When they say rules are to be broken,
I say, Cross the lines.
Cause Papers cannot hold the rain.

Sinking sun

 And what rises in the orange skies,is nothing but a sun sinking in the sea.

They can revolt

And the roots that can go beneath the soil, live in dark and fight against gravity to make you stand,can also revolt.And it wont stop until it makes you fall, not even at the cost of its end.

Summer of March

There was a dream in a chilly winter night, half seen and just began.
It needed one more night to complete that castle, move towards a place where it rains.But as the morning shined, It was a summer of march that left her asleep for ages.

Beauty

The soul of a pencil can break, if the hands that hold it are rough.
It bleeds and looses its life on paper,
And still very easily allows, its last signs to be erased.
you can call an art made from it as beautiful,
But what about those empty thrown away papers with hidden stories,
...secrets that never got a chance to unfold,
and some still left incomplete.
Beauty, does it not lies everywhere?

To begin a bond with a stranger so beautiful, for a time that could defeat light,held the petals inside you.And then to watch it die, fade away with passing time. Its not about the rose in a book, its about the pages that sheltered it.

And there was a time

And there was a time then, when seasons changed for love,
when it rained even in chilled December.
And here is a time now,when love can wait or fade away,
for the leaves that have left, cant make a tree green again

Destroy

And to hear again and again,
as you say, a stone is good for nothing,
can create a mountain too high,
And if ever, there were diamonds,
or a tiny heart,
...It could be never gained,
like time getting buried under sinking sand.

Religion

Colors can stand together to form a national flag , but the different colors we share cant blend to form a nation. For some people try to paint the one color they love on everybody else's walls. One such example is religion.

 

To play hide and seek with colors,
cover them with clothes that can tear,
and show the naked truth,is but- an art that cries.
To play the same with words,
cover them with clothes they really never wear,
...and skin the lie, is but- an act that wins 

Bleed. but Run.

Just because the road you are walking on is not the one you want, doesn't means you cant run after something you dream, not even at the cost of throwing away the shoes, and bleeding with naked feet.

Its never bad to lie

They who lived under the sky for ages,and believed it to be their roof,
And when it rained, danced with a faith that its a shower of love that falls,
and not holes.
To make their dreams come true, Its never bad to lie