Best Habituated Poems

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To money
With your power you do many a thing
Like rocking monarchs who ruled over the land
Powerful as you have passed into dust
Rich or poor depend...

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My eyes were habituated to gaze,
what they used to see is only your face.
but yesterday, seeing you in that black dress.
My innocent heart appeared to...

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I hope it would not be a parody of Michael Morrell’s political scientific position
to suggest all relationships are political
and all political relationships fall somewhere on...

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A poet is a minute caricature,                   ...

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Mantle--a fluid shelf that cradles all existence;
Soil--a table that nurtures all subsistence
Flora--a cultivated canvas that neutralizes resistance;
Fauna--a habituated benefactor of indulgence.

Wind--a mysterious force of ambivalence,
Dispersing...

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if the sinking-of-boat …ice-cream by name 
be deducted from the swept-off-in-flood … by name roll no 31 
then would the wings of the comics 
cease...

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Immediacy of the moment doth youthful heart beckon
With trite passions that seem to standardize each deviation
Intemperate fodder with which sprouting limbs must reckon
Growing pains producing...

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Is it important that to someone we must speak?
Is it wise enough to open up when solitude makes you weak?

Is it really okay to make...

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Bedazzled in a opaque beauty, trapped deep within the colossal caverns of 
senseless agony.
Lie await the nefarious to bestow, conjuring assailing flames.
The hindered habituated set...

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He stood there
Grey hair dirty, long
Unwanted
His grubby shirt faded
Old
Eyes sad, torn
No one
No home
Dirty bag holds food
Pushed aside
Misplaced

Stared at
Stared from
His frame of 
Shocking disclosures
Un-habituated
Sits down
Pauses, pausing
Moving...

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Inside the depth of her heart
In some hidden corner
There cries a little girl
With her tears that never stops.

Under the harsh shades of emotion
Her tangled feelings
The...

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I'm sorry for being a bright blue sky ,
stretched out for you to fly.
I'm sorry for being a bright orange sun,
to which your days had...

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Self-perfidy ignites the story again
Contemptuously, I run to my patience's edge;
Strain it further, till I make the inner-burst.
Then, retreat callously, pricked by mundane-me.


Stuffing disgust, within...

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When u will be free we will meet sometime 
If not on land then somewhere in sky

Your hesitations and the way you tried
Your every movements...

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