In Conscience

Irreverent my eyes were closed

Stoically i sat my manner was grim

Encumbered i lay with the solemn truth

Idiosyncrasy cannot be hidden under the veil

Discovered infinity in five and twenty years

Yet time has gone by in light years speed

And memories lay on ground ashen

With vendetta it is raging me forward for more

Alas! courage strands me at uphill

Flurry of emotions turn into colour of tar

I’m besieged by me apprehensions

Trying to stay reclusive and afar

But stench of feelings invade my body

Stuck in paradox my fear of discovery

Can you make out the thin line of scar

Running from my thigh to calf

Belligerent eyes easily assume

Heinous feeling inside me grew

presumptuously i didn’t let you know

Falling off the wagon

New seeds in my conscience I sow


The Veil

Out of the conscience into the mind

Certain distraction the veil of time

Could have spoken the truth but words not honest

Little slit forming on a wall, Can it be broken?

Drapes covering head falling before the eyes

Difficult deduction to make everything a jaded find

Conquest is marched and promises are broken

To shed a tear a colossal opportunity is stolen

And timid is her stance as wheel of time started to churn

In cacophony of thoughts she found answers to all her question

Though many questions in her mind were still unanswered

Sheath of her skin too thick to mind anyone’s attention

Forgotten are smug jilted words of control

Now she controls the time when the veil is to be put on

The Mausoleum of Thoughts

In the paradigm of life everything is placed in order

The mechanism of which advises you to move forward

Any uncertain delays leaves heart pumping fast

A tear of rage bullies mind and shuns the warning cast

Hapless sit wringing hands waited to be interviewed

Alike disection the conscience probe leaving you to stew

Sitting in front of looking  glass, finding faults where they exist not

Each day the Granfather clock ticks,spending in ease precious time

Heard he not from the grapevine, that its soul of sloth

Everyday creating a new possibility trading reality in cost

Closest memory is a vain attempt to dream

Closeted fears floats the boat in irrational stream

Seemingly on every moment thesis is  formed

Gradual with maybe’s “And I belong but ..where?” question stalks

Complex webs the neverves forms inside the skin

Speaking a language, stuttering the good deeds and sin

Aftermath, is where the batttle is won or lost

And then he  moanfully  looks  at the mausoleum of thoughts.