Forlorn and forgotten Orbs.....

the coffee cups lie aground…

wastage of space..

garbage of efforts..

all for self satisfaction..

all for petty glorification…

of thy soul…

outside the tears of the repressed skies..

pour down with coercion humble…

but nothing ever shakes …

the intolerance..

of a moving corpse of a mass…

so i suffer alone…

with many a wasted portion of caffeine..

and lots of self tortured silence…

but even in this predicament unsuitable…

somewhere..

somehow..

i manage to find..

a few dejected..

rejected orbs..

of forlorn and forgotten life..

lives that once mattered…

in a world of simple emotions..

and quixotic impressions…

The cabs are in a frenzy..

tonight is Saturday..

time to get drugged..

without any surety..

of whether a few ounces of white happiness..

will lead me into my desired state of paradise…

far in the distance..

some rookie with endless mirth..

turns the table…

and belts out pure nonsense..

archaic..

sexist…

yet nothing seems to move my conscience…

wasted ashes..

ruined lungs…

yet out there..

are some forgotten..

thrown…

tarnished orbs of passions..

forlorn by the sheer ignominy of oppression..

waiting for some fortunate one..

to be their voice…

and i strive to be that one…

one that seeks justice for them..

through peaceful space…

and enchanting silence..

far away from the maddening crowd…

the Phone never rings..

only whatsapp..

and mindless tweets..

i lie observant…

mindful that a society insane..

is watching the world run away..

while being aground..

in the strange era..

of elephants and divine beings…

of ancient battles…

and superfluous victories…

they all say that good won over evil..

they all project that the righteous became the king..

but no one cares to account…

for the tears and screams..

of those who were defeated..

and those who were tricked…

but i am no bookkeeper…

terrible with numbers ..

absolutely negligent with memories…

but only a careful watcher..

of all the unnoticed extermination happening all around me..

and like the confused tourist..

i try to soak in..

such a uniquely demented experience..

of localized reality…

yet despite the overwhelming sadness of all this…

and the respite..that such visual exploitation..

never gives..

i still search on..

for some innocent twinkles..

and delicate orbs..

of dreams beautiful yet censored..

by a realm obsessed with petty courtesies..

and try to bring them back..

into the scheme of universal feelings…

these remnants..

of someone’s beautiful spirit..

where once the toast of a more tolerant..

world of things…

but now they lie forgotten and forlorn..

and i feel somehow…

probably due to my genetic fallacies..

that it is my sacred duty..

to unearth them..

and gift them..

their deserved prominence..

my thoughts..