Wasteland Poems

Does This Lady Love Her Mister

Because of it, we laughed as grass is green—there is she not common.
Realizing how it is I became, such implied in her with favor.
--
And, being left off distant of, but near to her, I thus became—
whose teeth, white, flashed: the sun as she was now to smile and show them.
--
I was drawn inside by her

Heartbroken Wanderer In Wasteland

“When the heart breaks the trail of longing 
gets lost in the debris of its shards”- By Poet


The sparkling dawn enwraps my heart with hues,
spreads the sunburst luster of my yearning,
paints golden garden in mind’s blank canvas, 
blooming with the patina of my love,	
unfurls buds of fervent facsimile 
of your astral floral face, I adore.

Indian Wasteland

It is the world of Shiva and Shaitan
It is the world of Krishna and Kant

Devi on Nandi holding Demon and Son
Devotees, Deities, Ash, Claps and Fun

Fragile girl carrying child in her arm's
Not mother but a sister’s virgin palms

To Die for him but not a bruise to touch
Just Bottom pinching nothing too much

Anguish in her arms

Wasteland of Failure

The outside is where I belong
The inside so filmiar 
A constant stride to belong
To fit the mold of what a man should be
Weak I am cancered by self denial
When will it end for me
Alone I be
What a disappointment
A shaded comparison of where I started
I seek something
But back away
When it gets hard I blame all but

Wasteland

Like the dead fossils of the once tyrannic dinosaurs laid bare into the diminishing soils of the earth, is what the aging world appears to seem like, the battle for survival pride and honour from the unforgiving climate changes in the vast savanna amongst living creatures to the vast cities, towns, villages etc of we

A Frozen Wasteland

The land lies silent
Beneath the icy embrace
Trees stand still, statues
Whisper of life now dormant
Yet hope lingers in the cold

The Wasteland

The pendulum swings wider
both right and then left
Those things that divide us
fomenting unrest
The wasteland between
what was once common ground
A minefield of mutual exclusion
— profound

(The New Room November, 2024)

The Wasteland of Wandering Wisdom

Wilderness trees grow high
The wasteland is all but nigh
It’s getting darker here and I’m becoming more shy
Even my faith has grown somewhat dry

Distress bushes grow on
Like the dusk and the dawn
It’s getting lighter — the sunshine glows till the night is gone
I’m like a wandering fawn

Sunshine, come shine upon me now
I’ve been drenched in moonlight

Virtual Wasteland

Behind a screen, they hid their faces…
Cruelty unleashed, leaving internal damage,
They sneered as she crumbled, a spectacle for them, 
Their laughter echoed, as her world began to fall. 


Anonymously, they hid behind the pixels, 
A poison ring, horrifying scene indeed.
“She deserved it, I hope she’s dead”
Are we not allowed to make mistakes?
Her soul, once vibrant,

Spiritual Wasteland

The righteous
may struggle
the righteous may fall
But Hell
only exists
— in a place without love

(1st Book Of Prayers: April, 2024) 

Excise Exercise 2: In a Wasteland

Excise Exercise 2:

In a wasteland
decision is a choice. 
Faced with Life or Death
makes progress clear-
What are the options? 
Face the Fear of both. 
One brutal truth. 
Find love's survival hope. 
Cut off black poison. 
Amputate the hate
that cast love out of reach. 
Gangrene was never the colour of Peace... 
In a wasteland, 
Green is the

Genius, you are a soul of poetry, a wanderer in the wasteland

Genius, you are a soul of poetry, a wanderer in the wasteland,
And your fate is that of a star, solitary in the azure seas of the sky.
You fly through kaleidoscopes of thought, all fleeting,
Weaving unseen worlds in a secretive bower of the eternal.
Among mortals, you stand as a giant among elves,
On paths of deep knowledge

To wither in a wasteland

We go crazy in the head, when you lie with lie in bed.
All are green lights, you don't see red !
No conscience cricket chirps in your calm corrupted head.
To wither in a wasteland, we are being led.

(11.08.2023)

Whispers On the Wasteland

My Rose can be found
   in the desert,
      hiding among the cacti.

And her hallow voice
   can be seen
       tumbling with the weeds.

Barren,
   and dry,
       her tears come in a storm,
flooding the valleys,

Woman of the Wasteland II of III

There he sits that monstrous hypocrite. There he dwells as I wash these dishes, his dishes. There he slouches, watching his games, his news, his crap. I try and think to dream past my own tragedy. I feel my hands burn and bleed from the soap n water. I turn my back and look out

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