sahoosmruti

There is always another story. There is more than meets the eye . ~ W.H Auden

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  • sahoosmruti 2w

    The weekend
    cuddles
    with empty beer bottles
    and the cars
    in the parking lot
    are yet to decide
    whether departure
    is painful or not. //
    A school going teen
    goes to the bar first time
    and she is yet to decide
    whether
    bars are the museums
    on weekends
    that become
    lively,peepy
    on the wheels of fire//
    Robbin
    winked at Leela
    from the stage
    and their eyes did
    monologues
    and the story started
    on that weekend
    didn't need any script further. //
    A friend long forgotten
    came to meet me this weekend
    I asked him
    what did he see in that
    empty alcohol bottle
    He said "void"...
    then I laughed and asked him
    "Can I give it your name"...
    The disgusting look in his eyes
    felt like a decaying weekend
    Wishing upon a blue moon
    where everything rots away
    the emotions
    meanings
    gesture
    concern
    touch
    everything
    yet that scornful feeling
    fails to resist
    from wearing that
    black mini skirt
    and go to a bar
    and discover
    bars are the museums
    offering life. //
    ©sahoosmruti

  • sahoosmruti 5w

    Error unveiled 0.1

    My brimming anxieties are sugar less, suffering from my colossal kindness and sympathy. I restore spring in the rows of my ribs to have a honeyed tongue, being aware of the fact that in long run by any means it will turn out to be a blessing in disguise. Still I keep creating tentative tales of tenderness in my head out of their fake assurances,fake flatteries, false promises and conspiracies.
    I have known the taste of betrayal. It is awful yet engrossing. Hence I pretend satire stupidity as responses to their culinary treacheries. I let them be witty in my story .I let them win, accepting all the goodness they fake and write chapter after chapters, portraying self as an aphasic antagonist.
    Hence everyone else in my story are good willed, pure hearts while I am assigned to navigate the ship against the air .

    ©sahoosmruti

  • sahoosmruti 9w

    Of half written letter
    war poets and peace


    Under the graveyards of peace the corpses laughed and we bloomed as war poets . Last spring we decided not to romanticise pain than writing tragedy .... But what tragedy we would have written if not about our own . //War poets laid down on the battlefield. Intoxicated by peace we turned into young wine with the name of war.

    ©sahoosmruti

  • sahoosmruti 10w

    When man becomes void
    peace becomes fear
    empathy becomes blood
    and flowers become fire
    someone somewhere
    stops the other
    from singing
    Haminasto haminasto....//

    I can see desolation in your eyes; that ruin on the lips is your but the blood is mine . When you cry I bleed unmitigated pain.

    When butterflies lose wings
    tongues commit suicide
    guns measure the depth of humanity
    and cages are occupied with rotten fleshes
    Someone somewhere
    stops the other from murmuring
    Haminasto haminasto //

    Are not we supposed to teach humanity ? But do the vultures speak the language of love ?
    And humanity without love is unfeasible .

    And we are void ...
    and then mortal.

    ©sahoosmruti

  • sahoosmruti 10w

    Fulfill your whims or else write them down . Pretty imaginations in words are the realities somewhere .

    ©sahoosmruti

  • sahoosmruti 11w

    Two & a half truths .

    The baffled
    emotions
    I am not allowed
    to exhale
    are the loathed weightage
    soaking
    my eyelashes
    And the compliments
    they showered on my
    eyelashes
    were nothing but
    mere distortions
    that I pretended to
    adore .
    Those who claim
    that pain purifies the soul
    I feel pity for them
    For I am exhausted
    being exhibited as subdued
    piece of art
    in the game of life
    where fate has the monopoly
    and I am
    just a solivagant
    directionless.
    I envy them
    who find me aorable
    for all my life
    I had to pay the
    price for it
    as an obligation
    and cherish the wounds
    inflicted
    feigning being unperturbed.

    ©sahoosmruti

  • sahoosmruti 12w

    ସମର୍ପଣ ର
    କଣ କିଛି ସୀମା ଥାଏ
    ଏଇ ଯେମିତି
    ସମୁଦ୍ରେ ଅନ୍ଧାର
    ଆକାଶ ଆଉ ତା ମଧ୍ୟରେ
    କ୍ଷୀଣ ବ୍ୟବଧାନରେ
    ଲୋଡୁଥାଏ ଅବକାଶଟିଏ
    ଦାୟୀ ହେବାଲାଗି
    ମେଘୁଆ ଆକାଶର
    ଅନ୍ଧକାର ପାଇଁ
    ଠିକ ଯେମିତି
    ଆକାଶର ତମାମ୍ ଅହଂକୁ
    ଆପଣାର କଲାପରେ
    ମାଟି ଆଉ ରହେ ନାହିଁ ମାଟି ହୋଇ
    ଆବୋରି ପାରେନାହିଁ
    ତାର ମାହତ୍ମ୍ୟକୁ
    ବରଂ ସମର୍ପି ଦେଇ ତାର ସବୁତକ ମୋହକୁ
    ମାଟି ସାଜେ ମାଧ୍ୟମଟେ
    ଆକାଶର ମୋକ୍ଷ ପାଇଁ ।

    ©sahoosmruti

  • sahoosmruti 12w

    Pause

    Only they could respect others wishes, whose own wishes remained unacknowledged most of the time .

    Your dogmatism has nothing to do with mine . So let it hang on to your personal space .

    Silence is cumulative . It may result magic if you are properly invested into it .

    Why do people often be in a hurry to make a conclusion ? One's assumption could be other's truth . - Lier

    I practice it as prayer to what you call unbotheredness .

    ©sahoosmruti

  • sahoosmruti 15w

    ଭିନ୍ନ ଏକ ଆଶ୍ଳେଷ # 4

    ତୁମ
    ସର୍ଜନା ରେ
    ନିଇତି ଉବୁଟୁବୁ ହୋଇ
    ପୁଣିଥରେ ତୁମ ଶବ୍ଦସାଗରରେ
    ହଜିଯିବା ର ପାଗଳାମି
    କେଜାଣି
    କେତେଜଣଙ୍କ
    ଲେଖନୀ କୁ ଯୋଗାଏ
    ଅମ୍ଳଜାନ

    ନିସ୍ତବ୍ଧତା ର ଛାତିରେ
    ମୁହଁ ଗୁଞ୍ଜି
    ଜୀବନର ମନ୍ତ୍ର କୁ ଗାରେଇଦବା ର
    ଆସ୍ପର୍ଧା
    କେଜାଣି କେତେଜଣଙ୍କୁ
    ଟାଣିନିଏ
    ତୁମ ପୃଥିବୀକୁ

    ତୁମ ନଥିବାରେ ତୁମେ ଅଛ
    ଆଉ ରହିବ ମଧ୍ୟ
    କୋହଭିଜା ସ୍ମୃତିଟିଏ ହୋଇ
    ଚୀରଇପ୍ସିତ ହୋଇ ।

    ©sahoosmruti

  • sahoosmruti 16w

    I zoned out on your indifference .
    I never kissed death .
    ©sahoosmruti