Thank God it's not ME.

The man with no eyes
walks up and down confidently
the train and bus stops
begging for money.
walks guided only
by a mere white stick.
Yet people try to ignore him
people, who are not even confident
to walk with stained cloths.

The child on the street
wrapped up with dirt
with smile so sad
has been mistreated to a hell lot
scrambling for coins
dropped near them.
Bravely asking aloud.
For money they live
a life filled with mistreat and abuse.

A man with one or two limbs lost
ambles differently through the indifferent crowd
sits quietly by the side
Praying someone takes pity
hoping that somebody cares
Trying to make a living
From the kindness of passers-by
Yet nobody sees him
or the tear in his eyes.

What kind of world we live in?
They can't eat without begging
we don't even bother
to ask their story
how they end up there?
But we effectively
avoid them
shun them
and uncomfortably walk past them
Thanking God it's not ME

Someday....

Some day I will see you and not your image
Someday I will see your face not your mask
Someday I will see the truth not it's wrappings
Someday I will see the picture and not the pieces.

Someday I will feel the hope and not its hallucination
Someday I will feel your aura not just your presence
Someday I will feel your love not its imitation
Someday I will feel happiness not its illusion.

Someday I will hear your silence not your noise
Someday I will hear your thoughts not the altered words
Someday I will hear your voice not just sound
Someday I will hear your song not the humming.

One day I will see the path and not the mirage.

Life flows....

Life flows as a river through the hills
slowly as ever,
tranquil as ever.
Sometimes rocks placed on the path,
sometimes contracts in the course,
it falls and flows
and falls and flows.

Sometimes  have time to enjoy the winds that touches
Sometimes fall hard on the rock and cry
as a river our life flows
our love flows
our hope flows

For years it has flowed.
Flowed towards uncertainity
have no choice
except to bare the current
Don't know when the end will come?
what the end would be?

We flow....
Our hope continues to flow...
Our life continues to flow...
Our love continues to flow...
as a river through the hills.

Me and my mask collection

I am one person
with one heart
with one soul
but many masks.

When I stand in front of the mirror
I ask myself which mask should I wear today?
For I have many
Masks for each occasion.
Masks for each location.
Masks for each situation.

So which mask am I supposed to wear today?
For masks can take you to places
physically, not emotionally
For the face is attached to the soul rigidly
and I cannot fool my emotions.
But I can hide them, bury them...
And wear a plastic mask of happiness covering the sadness underneath
My beliefs hidden behind the mask.

Life is all about juggling between different masks.
The faster you juggle the better the day turns out.
For life is all about masks.

Finally at the end of the day,
when I have said everything I need to,
when I have done everything I have to,
when I want to be myself,
my hand automatically goes for the masks
I think I am addicted to them.

But I have hope...
Little by little answers will come
One day there will be no more masks for me
One day my beliefs will be known
One day this mask will be no more.

I thought I should publish this one in spite of my busy schedule. But I personally think this is one fine poetry piece of mine.I took that photo too at a shop in kodaikannal..:)

Cry of a puzzle piece

They told me of a puzzle with a missing piece
No one told me of a piece with a missing puzzle
It's frustrating
when you can't find the puzzle, only the unfitting pieces
when there is no acceptance, only the stony refusal.

It pains me
when the puzzle complains,
when the pieces cry.
The pieces cry in vain though,
they are trying to fit into a puzzle they never can.
And end being pushed and hurt along the edges
They are worn out with the struggle.

They pretend to be another puzzle piece
Force themselves into the puzzle.
But it pains them
and they cry for a release.

They will soon be doomed
of this tiresome roam.
They search in vain
for a place to call home,
a place to fit into.

Their sweats and tears
will go futile,
Until they acknowledge
their perspective
the host's refusal,
Until they declare
"I am a puzzle on my own"
And learn to be content being alone.

Who understands me when I say life is beautiful?

Who understands me when I say life is beautiful?

They took the water away so I live without water
they painted the windows black so I live without light
they built the wall high so I live without a breeze
they locked my cage so i live without going anywhere
they take my life and crush it, so I live without a future
they squeezed all the tears, so I live without tears
they stop up each hope, so live without a way out of the hell
they give me pain, so I live with my pain
they give me hate, so I live with my hate
who understands me when I say my life is beautiful?
Who understands me when I say I have my freedoms?

I cannot fly or create an elephant from thin air
I cannot open heaven or make the earth tremble
But I am can live with myself, astonished with my myself, my love and beauty
I come in no wrapping or a  pretty golden bow
I am taken by my failures and put down by fear
I am stubborn and childish
I practice being me for I am what I am
and found parts of me that I never dreamed before
I goaded them out of the abyss in my heart
when the windows were painted black,
when the walls were built, water turned off
when I had no where to go,
when I had no one to appease
I dug deeper into the dangerous region and found many parts of me
which I never know existed in me
Showed water is not everything
light is within me, taught me to see through the walls
we laughed at me together like children
made a loyal pact to stay as friends forever
Who understands me when I say life is beautiful?
Who understands me when I say I have my freedoms?

-Vivedha