pen_and_paper

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Duniya mein kitna gam hai. Mera gam kitna kam hai.

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  • pen_and_paper 7w

    Is it time?
    To harvest things that I have grown.
    On some Sunny Day?
    Till came the evening.

    Did I grow luminol?
    Sparkling, shining.
    Brighter than the tears.
    One could hide in the Sun.

    Should I grow it again?
    This time, away from the Sun?

    Did I grow tobacco?
    Which was loved by all the psychos.
    Did they rub it in their eyes?
    Everytime they needed to see.

    Should I grow it again?
    This time, inside my lungs?

    Did I grow plague?
    When mice became so less.
    I needed them in my life.
    To pinch me, to be back.

    Should I grow them again?
    This time, inside my empty mind?

    Should I grow them again?
    Or evening is here already.

    Maybe I should harvest them all.
    Is it time?


    ©pen_and_paper

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  • pen_and_paper 11w

    Life is a gift.
    Just like the great Trojan Horse.
    ©pen_and_paper

  • pen_and_paper 11w

    The matrix

    Oh you're born again.
    Open your eyes


    I know they must be hurting.
    For you haven't used them since you died.
    They aren't yours.

    Come lock in the gates.
    And see the world with your ears.
    This silence says something.
    Of the ruins of mankind.
    These machines have taken your soul.
    You're with you no more.

    There's a world left behind the time.
    But time is always late
    and less.
    For you tried to go ahead in a circle.
    Indeed, you were too fast.

    See these machines are laughing.
    You taught them to.
    The day you shook your hands with them.
    And shook your head for the power.

    You're born again.
    To fix the matrix.
    Which destroyed you.
    And you can't see through it.

    Cause your eyes are hurting.
    And you haven't used them since you died.

    ©pen_and_paper

  • pen_and_paper 12w

    21 cent.

    There was a field of sugarcanes.
    All for sweet dishes.

    I know an officer,
    who knew it was going to be a mill soon
    and a highway.
    so he bought 12 acres of sweetness.

    I know him
    he is rich now
    reaching by the secret
    once government told him.

    I know a doctor
    who followed procedure
    to see patients in the queue
    but many died standing.

    I know of compassion.
    I know of information.
    Both are used by powerful.
    One for family
    another for them.

    I know someone homeless.
    He gathers food from busy roads.
    And feeds some street dogs
    who made him God someday.

    This world is for happy men.
    I heard them say.

    I felt like buried alive.
    But I am walking away.

    ©pen_and_paper

  • pen_and_paper 13w

    #writersnetwork

    A family is a lot to take but that's where you know what love is. It can't happen again the love your sister gave you someday.

    Like mother. I remember her everytime when I forget everything. She's in my head. I see her in traces of my melancholic rainbow.
    She smiles, stares at me and rains. I will never forget her frowns over me.

    She used to call me by name. It wasn't how I felt it from the world. People say what's in the name. Well, nothing.

    My father called me once when I was on drugs. He asked me how was I. I smiled and didn't reply. This is how I answer them. They may understand. Maybe.

    A family is indeed a lot to take. But it won't happen again, the blessings of your Dadi. She used to ask me to visit temples with her. I used to go but just to leave her there. My God is different from her. He never sits inside a temple she used to go. He never sits. He dances inside my head whenever I try to sleep.

    A family is a lot to take. But it won't happen again,while the complete you is still hiding inside the belly of your mother.

    She still feels you there. You're free, though.

    ©pen_and_paper

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    Half of I say is meaningless, till I call you mother.
    ©pen_and_paper

  • pen_and_paper 13w

    I dream of love
    the grass blades anew
    to cut our knees
    as we both fall knee deep
    and wade and roll over
    to the muddy side
    to grow like lotuses
    till we hear them say
    you guys are dirty
    dirtier than dreams
    Cause I dream of love
    I dreamt of one.

    I dreamt of you.

    ©oculus

    You sure know
    of dreams which crumble
    down in pieces.
    Deep down you know
    that your heart
    I used to hold
    in my rolling bands
    was never meant to rot.
    But it did in my palms
    in this rolling terrain
    You sure know
    Of my love
    which turned to fire
    to burn you over
    from places
    But yet we meet again

    And all I could do
    Is to write about you.

    ©pen_and_paper


    You're charred in places
    and black overburnt in pieces
    but it's okay you made it out
    of the wild fucking fire
    Jesus died for all our sins
    and somebody out there
    demands a sacrifice
    you must put a fire inside me
    knowing fire can't put a fire
    or we would've bought
    Hephaestus on Earth
    I know your excuse
    It would be me
    to gallop on steep
    midway heaven and hell
    and kiss the Sun
    I'll be waiting
    behind the tress
    Inside your words.

    Dreaming of a writer.

    ©oculus


    My life was short
    I was burnt in fire
    I tried to wait
    for you to come
    and hold your water
    You raining Sun
    I made it out
    I felt reborn
    Like Jesus like sins
    Like faded winds
    I blew away
    knowing you just came
    to save my world

    I listen to your words.
    As good songs are dying.

    ©pen_and_paper

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    #writersnetwork #pod @oculus

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    I listen to your words.
    As good songs are dying.
    ©pen_and_paper

    I'll be waiting
    behind the tress
    Inside your words.
    Dreaming of a writer.
    ©oculus

  • pen_and_paper 13w

    Illegal song

    Mother of all evils yells back from inside.
    Mother is trapped inside concious mind.
    Tired of screaming?
    Yes you're.
    Or this world would have been too noisy to listen.

    Does she carries me. Does she carries you.
    My mother, your mother.
    She's mother of all evils.

    Run on road. Run on road.
    Try to roar and come back home.
    Sound impulse response with Newton's third law.
    Fear anger is your mother.
    Her days are never over.

    Waving hands, broken.
    Raising hands, well, they're down.
    Just look at her. Lying there.
    Just look at you. Dying.
    She's your mother.

    Hush Hush baby don't you cry.
    Mama gonna make all your nightmares come true.

    ©pen_and_paper

  • pen_and_paper 15w

    NIMRODEL

    You're not alone.
    You have your loneliness.
    Why do you sit beside the river in the forest?
    Is it the water flowing or your face in water you love?
    Is it your journey or your destination?
    Is it the utopia of the birds chirping?
    Come back from the woods nimrodel.
    I offer you peace.
    I offer you whores of my head.
    Remember every drop of water goes away holding your silhouette.
    It is your face that stays but nothing else.

    This black water park grows black cotton.
    Your cottage is full of floods.
    It may rain in river as it rains on mountains.
    Water comes on grounds but it still holds the skies of heaven.

    You think you can see everything in river but it's never still.
    It's you who are.
    River isn't for diver of thoughts.
    It will drown people who sit close to the edge thinking.

    Why you sit beside the river thinking.
    Come back nimrodel,
    I offer you the woods.

    I offer you peace.

    ©pen_and_paper

  • pen_and_paper 16w

    In the next world war.
    In a jack knifed juggernaut.
    I am born again.

    In the neon sign.
    Scrolling up and down.
    I am born again.

    In an interstellar burst
    I am back to save the universe.

    --Airbag (Radiohead)

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    Off the rails.

    You can win the cards on colour.
    But what if mine is joker.
    Table turns not over power but ideas.
    Push my buttons in an another tongue.
    I can learn French in a day.

    I am down in the crossing.
    Signals don't mean anything until they're broken.
    But see, if they are.
    You can die.

    Acid rain comes once in a while
    but does it matter if
    Taj Mahal can be forgotten,
    people can be forgiven.

    People mourn but not for a lifetime.
    So why should I die.!?
    I will run on my legs
    then thoughts.
    I can tear down my shoes
    and throw away my socks.

    Come drink my wine.
    It's red and white.
    I love this cocktail of life.
    Afterall nobody cares for taste
    if it's all about drugs.

    ©pen_and_paper

  • pen_and_paper 16w

    #writersnetwork

    Trying to write something meaningful.
    Umm. Maybe not!!

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    Black label.

    I found him
    wandering nearby the street.

    The schools and temples are places forbidden for him.

    He walks on road
    holding love in his fists.
    See all you can,
    but it's a general trick.

    School is near to his home.
    But so is the garbage place.

    And he found pleasure,
    in collecting ruins of people,
    which he unfolds to transform,
    in a white shirt with blackened stains.

    He carries the ruins,
    and supplies his worth,
    And cleans the society,
    by rubbing the soap,
    Mixed in the dirts
    of his dreams and hope.

    ©pen_and_paper