Friday, March 8, 2013


Unto you, my solicit dream,
That forecast, beyond thoughts immersed
Sloping, rather sifting through, those panels to and fro,
Of mild breeze and a dusty storm.

Unto you, my heart lay triumphed,
Delirious, foggy thoughts
You were just here, meant to be, a visible trance.
To be within, not a second a miss throughout my journey.

Destiny, its called, sometimes it ought to be
Thy presence, thoughts, memories, suffocates, chokes my throat,
And I clench to survive,
Breathe hard, look deep, cry aloud.

Yet, unto you, the heart cannot stop,
Every moment passing by, the feelings of the heart
moves ahead miles. Just mine, solicit dream, you still choke,
And I rise within with a free air lifting your spirit so high.

Unto you, my solicit dream,
You may live in me till I leave into ether,
Where our destinies shall meet once again,
Only to live forever more.


Saturday, February 16, 2013


I am a bird,
Caged in this mesh, the mesh of insecurity,
Speculation, disbelief and doubt…

I am a bird,
With many a feathers, feathers that rise,
Fly high, and spread aghast to eternity…

I am a bird,
With a mind to dream, dream of unseen horizons,
Farther lands, the ultimate sky, the deep sea…

I am a bird,
Who wishes to fly, fly so far beyond wonders,
So much to see yet, so much to know…

I am a bird,
Whose feathers have been cut, now strangled,
In this unending mesh, so confused, unable to fly…

I am a bird,
Who wishes to break, break the fog of this choking uncertainty,
A see with my eyes, clear and clean, the world beyond the closed cage…

I am a bird,
Whose thoughts have been blocked,
Blocked in the hurdle of fear and anxiety…

I wish to fly, rise high,
Sing my song aloud, dance my will around,
To be free again, in this big wide world…



The world aghast, once kith n kin
Faces many move around, some foes, some allies
The chains that bind together, now also strangles to death,
And the kith and kin wear the mask of bare cut throat filth n sin.

The nights shadows, as stories said,
The dark is eerie, pitch scary and dead,
The ghosts in the bushes will choke your breath
And tear you apart into pieces, spread flesh, bones and blood…

The stories are not mere tales oh Dear!
The tales have taken life, breathing toxin and nails to tear
It will strangle, smother, throttle, and leave us pushed down, devastated.
And will laugh behind, mocking, as though our hands would not rise up, defeated.

Ah! That is now gone, the days when the mind fails,
As the anger, unjust, disorder, all cumulate and hit the brim of our throat, hail!
We would scream, hands risen, the power now, enormous, the mockers shall fear
the masks shall be torn off, scattered into pieces, those mocking faces, of power, ruthless power…

the young are the silent, silent like the dormant volcano,
erupting shall destroy, together or in bits, the growing injustice,
that is still mounting, like a racing horse, callous rulers with the rider,
Oh You, rulers, shall you realize, the world shall change, and your filthy masks shall be burnt!





 

Copyright 2010 Winnie's.

Theme by WordpressCenter.com.
Blogger Template by Beta Templates.