#damned

115 posts
  • quignogthence 3w

    I'm fine. Well, I'm not fine - I'm here."
    "Is there something wrong with that?"
    "Absolutely.

    - Ned Vizzini

    #damned #beyondsinful

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    2022///

    This year, all i want is peace of mind. This year, all i want is success and solace. This year all i want is blessings for my mother. I may not have someone to cry over something. But i do have tears, the frustration of being compromised, the bitterness of being played. I am not a good person, that's for sure. I have my own flaws, my secrets so dark, that even the devil dances upon their mere mentioning. I am a piece of shit. I smoke and i listen to violent music. I may be wrong for looking up to Pac, i may be wrong for hating everything. I may be wrong for setting foot here, i may be wrong for letting someone judge my worth. But it's all justified right. It's karma, right. I am not wrong for anything i did, but i am wrong for everything else. I did meet someone, i have had my run of time. I once prayed to god, i once tried to quit. For the past year, i am getting more than enough of everything. More trouble, more hurdles, more sins and more hate. Though it's not my place to decide, but what if i am already past the bar of my patience ? What if i got broken, bidding my time to be broken ? What if it's sheer fuckin' will, that have had me on my stand, even now as I'm writing this bullshit charade of life and legacy. Why do we need to mess with emotions ? What good is therapy ? Fuck music and fuck love. What good are friends for ? Why is everything focused around me ? Why am i blooming on the blind spot of belittling ? Did i have some sense of writing ? Am i a waste of time and capital ? Why would i be able to confide my pride ? What is the concept of self-respect ? I want answers, not justification. Yet, i was provided with consequence instead of the cause. I have seen everything at the age happiness. I have seen the strength of bonds, i have seen the false highroads of friendship, i have played with the devil, i have slept with the saints. With the lullabies of dema, and the stories of the world, i have travelled around my conscience of convergence. I have friends in the needy, and i am at grudge with the kindness. I have tried ending it, i have tried to put the pen down. I have changed my pen, heck even my pen name and account. I have had the taste of fame, i was here from the beginning afterall. Then, what's wrong with the way things are ? What's that complaining about ? What's your goal and where are you headed ? I don't know alright. I am a total mess, i might need a hug, a puff or two maybe. I want summer back, back again around me, with the warmth of welkins over my head. And, until now, i have realised that I'm down and out. I'm down bad. I don't know about future. I don't wanna live the present fully. The only thing i know is the one that i could never say out loud. The actual feeling, that I'm still unable of writing here even after a hell long of blabbering. My problem, i don't know what to expect from my own self. I don't know the trick of conveying the confidence. Am i out of luck ? Am i out of my mind ? Who knows and who cares probably. All i want from 2022 in one fucking word -

    CONTINUANCE

    ©quignogthence

  • quignogthence 5w

    That is not dead which can eternal lie,
    And with strange aeons even death may die.

    - Howard Phillips Lovecraft.

    #damned #beyondsinful

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    09:11 ///

    Prelude ;

    I have seen her a few times lately, the fuming fragrance fawning fatality and formalities of finesse. She snatched the puffs of marlboro from me heavy heart, giggling over my gloomy scenarios. She had a tattoo too, an irezumi smudging the paleness of her corium. It was named after diablo himself, the blasphemous boy of brooding blandishment. She had the stand on my shoulder, with the craze of mindful memories and the stalin sleeves of seldom.
    She had the say of my lifetime, with manipulations of love and whatsoever beyond that. She made me indulge myself into the realm of hallucinating hermitage.
    She had me addicted to penmanship, she had me purged.

    Interlude ;

    I have had myself settled, with heathens, with demons, with saints and with spectre. She was all about playing havoc, she was the harbinger, the one harnessing my homage. She taught me the art of lying, how to spill blood on the blunt sheets. With my hapless pen, i harangued the hearsay over hegemony. She smiled over my blessings, and cursed me on my carefree composure. To her, it was all about prophecy and prayers. The service of despair and the cult of vendetta, she stacked it all on my consciousness. Her bet was placed, the number was called already. Nevertheless, with nothing to lose, along came naufrague, with his heart racing everywhere, all languid and lost. He swallowed my will from within, the only reason to stay. I had to leave somehow, as she had long gone, with her tellings of truth.
    I had to leave right away, so i called shotgun.

    Lapse ;

    Claiming my eternal right over the occular sense, i shot myself down to reality. With, the decaying flora around the graveyard, i am picturing her tombstone. With the mortal mindset, the so called immortals are biting dust right now. What about her ? The lady moved on, with her deeds still intact, she still walks at night. Her quest unknown yet unchanged, her head still on the high, yes she is a little handful, too much to get a hold of, as a mere being speaking.

    Peroration ;

    How did i know ? I just know. Let this be the day i fell for her. Although, it's the same as everyday around, when death had me over, and outwith, somewhere afar afterlife. Name the day, sing ballads or brew them myths, i don't blame you souls. I may fell in love with her, intentionally or not, who cares ? But, she was the one with aces and eights, for which my pen will always curse her existence. This may be the day of flashback and lovables, but it shouldn't be mistaken for penitence. It is not the murky sadness. It is not the epic charade of eolic doomsday that comforts the story. It is not the hymns, the lyrics are none to blame for. It is not the peer pressure, it is not my sickness, it is not her toxicity, do not point out the medicinal abusing. It is involuntary indeed, but still unfigured. I am not to blame this on cataclysm. I am not to play howitzer. I have lost the hail mary to sway moloch away once and for all. I am not to be fooled. I am not to stay, nor should i wait for reminiscence.

    Decry ;

    If it is the plea of peace, so shall it be then. As, this is also the day i denounce death by all rights within and without. Here's to quietus, fuck you.
    ©quignogthence

  • quignogthence 8w

    The ugliest life is better than the nicest death.

    #beyondsinful #damned

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    Oppenheimer///

    I have become death, the dispatching demise indeed. My palms with power and that perilous plight. Hail mary had herself the baptism of me lackadaisical viability. Mozart had me over them fingers, possessing the grip of butchers and behemoths. With my mind succumbing beneath the brutality of brooklyn's pact and the handshake of sin city. All the stars above this alive mind of mine, the genocides, the tormenting of boulevards, i have seen it all. I have had it all, the emotions of holy land, the happiness of heaven, i have had myself withdrawn from all and all. I have seen the titans playing with humanity and what not. I am the final masquerade, the brilliance of polar paranoids, harnessing the wisdom of utmost simplicity. This sense of destruction made me uneasy, excited to be more precise. What possibilities of warcraft ? What extent of bloodline rebellion ? What diabolism ? What free will ? What King ? What Saviour ? What Cataclysm ? What more of this mere mortal and maven's madness ?

    They said the time will be eternal. They said justice will prevail. They said the tides were turning. They said the balance is beneficial.
    What's perfect in philosophy ? Where was this wisery when i am abusing vice ? What good will poetry do to us ? What about writers ? What of dema ?

    I might have it all, over the ounce of oblivion, the ominous otherside of obediency offending the occults of odyssey. I will never be anywhere near the omniscience of optimism. I don't have that will, the deed of being the omega. I tried my luck, got ostracized willingly. I am everything they say around, and even more of greyish behind them sides. The vindictive and bittersweet persona of hymns and heralds. What is still left of me, then ?

    Why am i jealous of myself ?
    Why this dance with devil ?
    Why so serious still ?
    Why the rush ?
    Why death ?
    Why sin ?

    Nothing seems nowhere, and impossible is my idiomatic impasse. I have lived through the void. I have seen the highroads. Only quietus is what's beyond everything. Still, my intelligence is zilch. It's like nothing happened. I smoked the puffs of prominence and spat the solace of stalemate, sequestering the supernatural from the superlative. I keep doping the rituals, the reaper sang me to sleep, and that's all of me. The rest is neither the plot, nor privileged. Blood will tell. All in due time.
    ©vaniloquence

  • quignogthence 10w

    Heed the hope, her time will never hail.

    #damned

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    Humicubation///

    The hoodlums of heaven,
    the hearsay of hierarchy,
    hindmost to hindrance,
    homage upon honor,
    herald him horizon,
    hurtle through,
    hyperbole.
    ©vaniloquence

  • quignogthence 11w

    Nature's first green is gold,
    Her hardest hue to hold.
    Her early leaf's a flower;
    But only so an hour.
    Then leaf subsides to leaf.
    So Eden sank to grief,
    So dawn goes down to day.
    Nothing gold can stay.

    ~ Robert Frost

    #damned #beyondsinful

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    Fons et origo ///

    The last leaf, the primordial saltation berating her veins. The world has thrived on it, breathing on it's beguiling charity. She once tried to forbear the nourishment of ethics, the morality of mortals, wisdom and wisery, and what not of odin's beard. She learned love, added two teaspoons of bittersweet bravery, kneading the emotional enigma of eminence into epiphany. The smell befooled the angels, devil started stripping on the whim and wits. She have a stand of symphony, yet her sympathy took over. She got partial with permanence of all things, violating the permeability of paramours and pedagogy. She kept everything for herself, dethroning the nature and it's fair share of charters. Death got compromised, the blessings breached, gods were bathed in hatred. Their crown shattered, their council slayed, the heaven misused over the grin of jettisoned jabber. The innocence have had it's roaming, the dawn of romance the chapter of nullification was done with. The creation is on us, with reins in her hands and cursing on her lips. She is here for all and all. Humankind, allow me to present to you, your worst nightmare - the mother, the earth, the origin or the radic maybe.
    Take a knee, the fons et origo, the fountainhead of false fortune and glorious genealogy, genteel as much as of a gentry. So genuflect on them knees, kiss your savagery, grace her devilish deed and get going. She was bound to come, she had to come. She is the prophecy afterall, the pavement in flesh, the parabellum of peace, our peril indeed. Amen.
    ©vaniloquence

  • hallie 12w

    The people and the things I love
    are beautifully
    breaking me.

  • quignogthence 14w

    Death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit.

    #beyondsinful #damned

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    Ranting ///

    I'm the charred macallan, the one fuming with unison. I indulged in flavouring, the mingles of white oak and sandalwood. The brewess cooked me on the pride of abomination. Messiahs came over, to soothe my sorry soul. To consume what's left of the lot. The silver stein, somehow beholding the unorganised ice cubes, and along came death. They chugged me down like bastards. Ohh, but it's faster than you think of it. It came quickly, with them saints puking their soul out of their sweet mouth. The thrill of massacre, ohh the stinking satisfaction. Damn, i did it. To quietus. Be of power, jigger. Vale.
    ©microcosm

  • quignogthence 16w

    Bullshit penman provides with rantings and nothing.

    #beyondsinful #damned

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    Ranting///

    I tried to write about her, the scent interfered with sentiments and symphonies. I tried to love her, moloch restrained the rituals as ransom. I tried to make her leave, you pointed out the pitfalls of prophecy. Now that I actually tried to kill her, she switched up the sidelines of seldom and sins.

    The scent lied about love. Moloch tempted my soul towards prophecy. You called dibs on slaying and serpents. And, she belonged afterall. She did indeed. Shame, you all played purge on pinnacle. Well, atleast you all died. Cheers to that, i guess.
    ©naykinephantom_

  • quignogthence 17w

    I smoked the tribulations, i smoked my messiah to be. What makes you think i would stop with nothing ?

    #beyondsinful #damned

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    Rantings///

    I rolled the verses, crushing the ink in idioms and idiosyncrasies of imbibing imposters. I set fire to the barren blunt beckoning my middle finger, for making melodrama out of this machination. My puffs purified the pious yet purged provisions of pastoral partisans. I cherished the ashes of acerbic acrimony, tipping every trace of truth and turmoil in tartarus. I'm the myth myself, the mimicry of motion and mayhem. I'm magniloquent and magnipotent manipulating malapropism yet, methodical. My methodology is malice itself.
    Murder this misanthrope and be modest about it. May this mutiny mull motley and motifs, moniker.
    ©naykinephantom_

  • quignogthence 18w

    चाय से मुझे नफ़रत है बहुत । ��

    #damned #rangrez

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    चाय या चरित्र ? #7

    'अब आप भी गौर फरमाइये जरा, आप जैसों से हमें नफरत है बहुत ।', उनका इतना कहकर अपने रास्ते जाना हुआ और मेरा दबी मुस्कान में हँसना । बात थी कहीं और की, किरदार भी अलग थे नाटक के, लेकिन अंजाम वही था साला उस बार भी जो इस बार हुआ ।

    उसका बारिश में मेरे सामने से हमेशा के लिए जाना, मेरा बारिश में सिर झुका कर ऑंसू गिराना, हाथों में दो गरम प्याले चाय के, और मुँह में आधी जलकर बुझी हुई सिगरेट । बारिश भी वहीं थी, उसी सच्चाई में बूँदे गिराते हुए । चाय भी वैसे ही होठों के लिए तरसती हुई, गर्माहट के आग़ोश में राह तक रही थी राही की । बदला तो सिर्फ सिगरेट का सफर, वो उसका झटके से जलना और हर बारिस की बूँद के साथ ठंडाकर बुझ जाना । हाँ, सिगरेट से कुछ अपनापन है मुझको । हाँ, बारिश से मुझे नफ़रत है बहुत । हाँ, चाय से मुझे खुंदक है बेशुमार । और हाँ, हर रोज़, हर शहर में, किसी एक रूह का सच होता है ऐसा ही । मैं ही क्यों, क़िस्मत से पूछें या कुदरत से, काफ़िर हो जायें जिंदगी से या कबीर बन चलें कर्मों पर । क्या किस्से, क्या किनारे, सब भरे पड़े हैं मेरे हमदम से । हाँ, हर सज़दे से मुझे नफ़रत है बहुत ।

    ~ अस्तित्व

    ©naykinephantom_

  • quignogthence 18w

    चाय से मुझे नफ़रत है बहुत ।

    #damned #rangrez

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    चाय या चरित्र ? #6

    अब बारिश थम गई थी, लेकिन वक़्त हो चला था मेरे अंदर उमड़े हुए तूफान के दस्तक़ देने का । मैं मासूमियत का मुखौटा हटाकर, मायूसी के रास्ते पर चल पड़ा अपने हमदम से मिलने ।

    चौराहा गलियारे को ले गया, गलियारे ने मोड़ दिखाए, और एक मोड़ पर मुझे मेरा मकसद भी दिख चला । मैं पनवारी के खोखे पर पहुँचा, सिगरेट ली, माचिस लगाई और धुआँ देखकर अपना अंजाम तय करने लगा । हर एक कश हर नई खामी को गिनाता हुआ मेरे फेफड़ों को अधमरा करते हुए मेरे दिमाग को धिक्कार रहा था । कि तभी याद आया मुझे, की छुट्टे तो अब मेरे पास भी नहीं हैं । होते भी कैसे किसी के नुकसान की भरपाई जो करनी पड़ी । मैं सोच ही रहा था बटुए से 500 का नोट निकाल कर पैसा कटवाने के बारे में, की तभी अचानक पनवारी से मालूम होता है कि किसी ने मेरा हिसाब कर दिया ।

    'हो गया हिसाब बराबर अब ? आपकी सिगरेट और हमारी चाय के बीच अब कुछ रहा नहीं चर्चित बने रहने को ?' ये वही आवाज़ थी जिसके पीछे कुछ देर पहले मैं दुकान तक चला गया था चाय की । मैं हिम्मत करके पीछे मुड़ा, सिर्फ उनके गुस्साये चेहरे से मिलने के लिए ।

    'तो चाय से आपको नफ़रत है बहुत ? बारिश से पुरानी दुश्मनी है ? लोगों को नीचा दिखाने का शौक़ है और सिगरेट के ग़ुलाम हैं आप । वाह, ज़नाब वाह ।', इससे पहले मैं कुछ बोलता, उन्होंने उसी अंदाज में सब खत्म कर दिया, जिस अंदाज में बारिश से मुलाक़ात हुई थी मेरी ।

    ..............

    ~ अस्तित्व

    ©naykinephantom_

  • quignogthence 18w

    चाय से मुझे नफ़रत है बहुत ।

    #damned #rangrez

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    चाय या चरित्र ? #5

    अब कौन उन्हें बताए, मैं नवाबियत के नौवें आसमान पर, नुसरत से निडर होकर, नीले नगमों पर न्यौछावर हो चुका था । आखिर में मेरा फिल्मी सफर ख़त्म होने को आ ही गया । उनकी चाय ख़त्म हुई, और जाने से पहले वो बोले मुझसे, 'आपके चाय के पैसे, छुट्टे तो नहीं है मेरे पास, रुकिए आप, मैं करती हूँ कुछ ।', इससे पहले वो उठते, मैंने भी थोड़ी हिम्मत करके बोल दिया, 'कोई दिक़्क़त नहीं है, नुकसान हुआ था मुझसे, तो भरपाई समझ लीजिए इसको आप ।'

    'पर आपने तो चाय पी ही नहीं ?', उन्होंने गुस्से में बोला । वैसे उनका तलखना भी जायज़ था, मेरे कुल्हड़ की चाय अब भी वैसे ही रखी हुई थी मेज़ पर, इसी इंतज़ार में की कब मैं कुल्हड़ को होठों से लगाकर गले से उतारूंगा उसकी ताज़गी को ।

    'ये भी कोई बात हुई भला ? चाय को मँगाया भी और ठुकरा भी दिया ? लगता है हमारी बातें चुभ गयीं आपको ?', इस बार उनके सवाल पूछने के तरीके में मायूसी भी शामिल हो चली थी । इससे पहले मैं कुछ बोलता और वो कुछ सुनते, उनका फ़ोन बजने लगा । और शायद फोन किसी जरूरी हस्ती का रहा होगा, जो फोन उठाकर वो मुझे रूकने का इशारा करके वो भीड़ से अलग होकर बात करने लगे ।

    मैं वहाँ खड़े खड़े सोच रहा था सच्चाई के बारे में, की क्यों चाय को छुआ भी नहीं मैंने, क्यों बारिश काटने को दौड़ती है मुझे, क्यों ख़्याली पुलाव के चक्कर में अपना मक़सद भूल गया मैं । उनको सच बताने का ना ही मेरा मन था, और ना ही समय था मेरे पास । मैं जल्दी जल्दी में अपनी जेबों को टटोलता हुआ जाने की तैयारी में उठने लगा । जब से मैंने एक कागज और पैन निकाला और सच लिखकर उसी चाय से भरे कुल्हड़ के नीचे रख दिया । और चल दिया अब अपनी मंजिल की ओर ।

    ..............

    ~ अस्तित्व

    ©naykinephantom_

  • quignogthence 18w

    चाय से मुझे नफरत है बहुत ।

    #damned #rangrez

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    चाय या चरित्र ? #4

    और इससे पहले मैं अपने आप को ढालता उनके खट्टे-मीठे लहजे में, बारिश की बौछार ने एक बार फिर व्यंग किया मेरे अफसानों पर । मैं ऊपर देखता मौसम से आँख मिलाने को, इससे पहले वो हँसते हुए फिर बोल पड़े ।

    'बारिश का कुछ बंधन तो है आपसे, कुछ कड़वाहट हो या न हो, लेकिन एक ख़ुमारी तो है आप दोनों में' , वो हँसते हुए बोले । बारिश, वो बूँदों का तीरों से चुभना, वो हवा का सीने को जकड़ना, वो सिगरेट की गर्माहट से पानी की ठंडक का लड़ना, वो सिगरेट का बेबाक होकर भी सड़क पर बिखर जाना, वो धड़कन का दिल को तकलीफ देना, बारिश से मुझे नफ़रत है बहुत ।

    हम बातें करते करते इस क़दर मगन हो गए हैं की जान पहचान करने को मौका ही नहीं मिला, वो कुछ देर बाद चाय खत्म करके बोले । 'हाँ तो हमारा नुकसान करने वाले का नाम जाना जाए अब ? आप कौन ?', उन्होंने पूछा एक अजीब हक़ से ।

    'हम श्रवया, लखनऊ से, आपकी तारीफ जनाब ?', फिर किसी तरह की जिम्मेदारी का एहसास हुआ मेरे दिल को ।
    'अस्तित्व, आगरा से -', कुछ देर बाद मैंने अपने बिखरे से ख़्वाबों को संभालते हुए बोला ।

    'नया शहर होगा आपके लिए तो फिर हमारा लखनऊ ? स्वागत है आपका लखनऊ में, मुस्कुराइए ज़नाब, दीदार कीजिये नवाबी का ।'

    ................

    ~ अस्तित्व

    ©naykinephantom_

  • quignogthence 18w

    चाय से मुझे नफ़रत है बहुत ।

    #damned #rangrez

    Read More

    चाय या चरित्र ? #3

    इंतज़ार होता रहा, मैं खाली खड़े खड़े इधर उधर होने लगा मन ही मन में, की अचानक वो हुआ जिसका डर था मुझे ।
    वो जिनका गुस्सा देखने का मन नहीं था, चेहरे पर मुस्कान लिए इतरा रहे थे ज़माने पर । और मैं बारिश के दर्द का घायल, उनकी आँखों में खोने का बहाना लेकर पागलों सा मुस्कुराता रहा । आँखे जैसे अन्दाज़ के नज़्में लिखते हुए, काजल की ओट में, चेहरा जैसे मुद्दतों का साहिल, वो शहद से मीठे गाल, और मैं रंगरेज़ हुआ लिखारी । मग़र क़िस्मत को कहाँ मंज़ूर है मेरी रज़ामंदी, इससे पहले कुछ पहल होती, चाय वाले की आवाज़ ने मेरे मग़रूर होश को वापस ला छोड़ा असलियत की आरज़ू पर ।

    इससे पहले मैं चाय लेने के लिए उठता, वो उठे चाय को निहारने के लिए, और चाय लाकर वापस मुझसे शरीक हुए । 'ज़नाब आपकी चाय, शुरू करें ?' चाय का कुल्हड़ पकड़ाते हुए उन्होंने शिफारिश की । चाय गरम थी, मगर मेरे सर्द हाथों से ज्यादा नहीं ।

    'चाय गर्म है, आराम से -', मैंने उनकी चुस्की को टोकते हुए बोला । 'जी मालूम है हमें, कुछ लगाव है हर बचपन के गुज़रे दिन से हमें, गर्म चाय जलाती नहीं है, ये दिलों को दिलासा देती है, आशिक़ों के, फ़क़ीरों के, इंसानों के, इखलासों के ।'

    'हम आशिक़ है इनके, हमारी इबादत है ये उबलती आदत ।'

    चाय चलती रही, चर्चे होना शुरू हुए, लेकिन मैं बहका हुआ था उनके चेहरे में, उलझा हुआ सा मैं, कभी कोशिश करता उनको पढ़ने की, तो कभी उनको लिखने की । मैंने किताबें पलट दीं अपनी नज़रों में उनके नूर पर, पन्ने महकते रहे, लेकिन नुस्खे नहीं मिले, नब्ज़ को संभालने जैसे ।

    ..............

    ~ अस्तित्व

    ©naykinephantom_

  • quignogthence 18w

    चाय से मुझे नफ़रत है बहुत ।

    #damned #rangrez

    Read More

    चाय या चरित्र ? #2

    मैं बिना कुछ बोले, सिर हिलाकर जा पहुँचा, चाय के काउंटर पर । चाय बोलने के बाद, भीड़ से दूर होने के वास्ते, मैंने आड़ ली एक अकेले कोने की । बारिश की छमछम चुभने लगी थी अब तक मेरे कानों की शाँति को । मैं बादलों को घूर रहा था, खीज़ते हुए ।

    'क्या बिगाड़ा है बारिश ने आपका जनाब ?', बगल से आहट लेते हुए एक आवाज़ पड़ी मेरे कानों में । वो जिनका नुकसान हुआ था मुझसे, बगल में थे मेरे । 'आखिर क्या हिसाब बाक़ी है मौसम से ? क्यों उखड़े हुए हो हवाओं पर ?'
    उन्होंने धीमे सुर में इस तरह पूछा, जैसे खुद फ़लक से आदेश को गुस्ताखी दाख़िल कराने को ।

    'कुछ ख़ास नहीं, एक दर्द है इसके रिश्ते से, एक रोज़ की नफ़रत और अरसे का नतीज़ा है ये गुस्सा ।' मैं भी बारिश को दुत्कारते हुए बताने लगा अपने हिस्से का सच ।

    'मगर फिर भी, चाय के आशियाने में, मौसम से बेरुखी ? ऐसा भी क्या हुआ होगा ? इतनी उलझन सिर्फ तर-बतर होने पर ? मुस्कुराया करो ज़नाब । ये चाय का चौराहा है, वो कुटी हुई अदरक का लोगों की थकान में डुबकी लगाना, वो इलायची का जुमलों में महकना, वो चाय पत्ती का दालचीनी के साथ गुफ़्तगू करते हुए शक्कर में घुल जाना । और फिर आता है वो, कुल्हड़, वो मिट्टी की अरदास पर जन्मा हुआ बर्तन, जो चाय को बरक़त से नवाज़ता है, वो जिसकी पकी हुई मिट्टी होठों पर चढ़कर, खुशबू से खेला करती है । ये वही कुल्हड़ जिसका नुकसान हमारे लिए हराम करा दिया आपने ज़नाब । इसलिए, अब छोड़िये इस रोज़ की नोंक-झोंक को, और आलम का लुत्फ़ लीजिये, चाय बस आती ही होगी, आपके लिए मरहम बनकर ।'

    ...............

    ~ अस्तित्व

    ©naykinephantom_

  • quignogthence 18w

    चाय से मुझे नफ़रत है बहुत ।

    #damned #rangrez

    Read More

    चाय या चरित्र ? #1

    चाय से मुझे नफ़रत है बहुत ।

    बात लखनऊ में हज़रतगंज की है, साल की पहली बारिश, और शर्मा जी की चाय का आशियाना । मेरे कदम अंदर तक चलते चले जा रहे थे, और मैं भीग जाने की खुन्नस से भरा हुआ, असलियत को कोसता चलता चला गया । मैं भीड़ से डरता हुआ कोने की आस में गुमसुम सा लड़का, जा कर टकराया भी तो उनसे जो नवाबों सी मुहब्बत करती थीं चाय के गरम कुल्हड़ से । टक्कर हुई, तकरार हुआ, उनसे कुल्हड़ टूटा, मुझसे होश खुले तमाम । मैं अपनी गलती को समझता वर्तमान को पढ़ने की कोशिश कर ही रहा था, कि उनकी तिलमिलाई आवाज़ ने बातों का सिलसिला शुरू कर दिया ।

    'जब चलना नहीं आता तो भीड़ में घुसते ही क्यों हो', मायूस आंखों से उन्होंने व्यंग्य कसा मेरे भीगे चेहरे पर ।

    'मैंने देखा नहीं आपको, मेरा ध्यान.... '
    'फोन पर था, हाँ फ़ोन पर ही रह सकता है', तिलमिलाहट अब ग़ुस्से में निकल कर आ रही थी उनकी ।

    मेरा ध्यान अब भी टूटे कुल्हड़ के टुकड़ों को दिलासा देने में लगा था । मैं कुछ कहता उससे पहले मेरे सामने उनका हाथ था, 'नुकसान हुआ है मेरा, चाय भी गयी और कपड़े गंदे हुए वो अलग, अब और छुट्टे पैसे नहीं हैं मेरे पास, लाओ चाय के पैसे ।', मैं खुशकिस्मत था कि भीड़ की वजह से जो हो रहा था वो ना तो दिखाई दे रहा था और ना ही सुनाई दे रहा था ।

    उनकी बातें सुनकर, मैंने ईधर उधर देखना शुरू किया, मेरे फिर कुछ बोलने से पहले उनका फरमान हुआ, 'हाँ हाँ तुम, तुमसे ही ना टकराये थे हम, तुमसे ही ना फैली ना चाय, तुमको ही अब तकलीफ देनी है ।'

    'चलो दो चाय बोलो अब ?' इस बार शबनमी अंदाज़ में फ़रियाद हुई । मैं इससे पहले कुछ कहता फिर तल्ख़ी से आवाज़ में अर्ज़ हुआ उनकी तरफ से, 'चाय नहीं पीनी है क्या ?'

    .................

    ~ अस्तित्व

    ©naykinephantom_

  • quignogthence 18w

    Vinyl Blues///

    When the music dies,
    the heathens came crying,
    wavelengths waning wisdom,
    widdershins rounding euphonies,
    my reed reeled the drags all again,
    the lyricism of languid latency,
    moloch smoked the fumes off,
    fawning fealties in fluked finesse,
    heaven got torned, hell hailed helm,
    verses chanting vendetta of visages,
    the amazed blessedness, the sins,
    saturating stalemates in between,
    travesty of thespian inheritance,
    the impaired imbroglio of initials,
    alive in acuteness, the alleged,
    affinities conceding collateral,
    the chords, the notes of soul,
    my withering blues singing,
    until it all clanked down,
    the interludes, outros,
    dishelved upon dibs,
    the music died, alack,
    the music, musicality,
    the provoker of hope,
    the good grief itself,
    the quieted arioso,
    to music, to the day,
    our beats stopped.
    ©naykinephantom_

  • quignogthence 19w

    These things happen yeah, but these things happen too.

    #damned

    Read More

    Love, Whatever///

    I'm someone's dream, all lost and done within someone else's. I am not the one. I will not love. I'm her call to make, even when the payphone runs out of nostalgia. I'm the kinephantom, not in the feels, but indeed in ken. Whether i thrive or not, whether she hate or not, to whether, to whether. Love, yeah love whatever.
    ©naykinephantom_

  • quignogthence 20w

    Dying -
    Is an art, like everything else.
    I do it exceptionally well.
    I do it so it feels like hell.
    I do it so it feels real.
    I guess you could say I have a call.

    - Sylvia Plath

    * Not for weak hearts and apologies for every word written. Do not take offense, do not recite. Stay away, if possible.

    * Temporary post. Nothing much to write for me. Not so much for you to thrive anyway. Just the experience of one of those days. That's all.

    #beyondsinful #damned

    Read More

    29/08/2021

    On the night of nigh neologism, where negotiations neglected the nefarious necessity of nibs and niceties. My verses came down to certitude. The psyche melting over the tribulations, the tributes offered at par with melancholic mopery. I shivered myself at the mere thought of bleakness. My life of sinning, tamed by fearful heathens and all. The vitality permeated, as if it's the revival, the hackneyed swings, the crushing of chine and chakras. The desparate approvals, the insult to injury. The dermis, peeled until the edgings. The macerating of living flesh, those teared fibrils of lifeblood, what's left to embroider along madvilliany. The butchery of moloch, the morningstar against demiurgos, the oath to paramours. The translucent pungency that my half-life beraten corpus is detaching. They smell hatred, their drool for my uncertainty, the flabbergasted feast of fallacy. The hoard, all free to abuse and abyssal. The renunciation is mine to call, the devil's work of kickshaws and kenspeckles.

    Start with me sight, extirpate them eyes when in visions of verizon. I will scream in blood and besmirching. Shave my head, I wanna curse the fuckin' fount of scurrility. Chop my bones, as I'm beholding the very homicide of hope and happiness. Snatch my heart by force, squeeze the tongue out. Extract every thought of paragons in plasma with perforation. From limb to limb, the legs, the arms, the guts, all them intestines. Discard me back to the chain of polypeptides. Decant the liquidation of lustful and lonesome loathings. The prosecution of deathwish, the smile of betrayal, the truth of the void, the voyage of vendetta, everything will follow the teachings of vignettes. The hellish dusk of neon graveyards, the tombstone of obligation. Everything is out to perish. Why me ? Oh, that's no more of a question. Only me and me, with the black parade of toxins covering up. I was never entitled to live this life my way, Moloch. But, I will be the one to decide the armageddon of me own afterlife.

    So, no more marchings and diplomacy. No more kinship or kingship. To hell with the dema, and to hell with the demons. Fuck the bishops, fuck your family, fuck your pride, fuck your suggestions, fuck your concern. I'm that bastard, the one with inglorious embedded within my genes and genocidals. I'm not moloch. I won't be heeding. Here's to death, denial and the doom of my debacle, let me be deterred from disclosures and diatribes. A dismal of disparity, my pastel prophecy of purity. This downcast irony, the momentary blackouts of bloomers, the life of leverage and the breathe of bewitchment. The obnoxious omens, the gravel of grievances. What's to stay in for ? What's with pleasantries ? What poem ? and What good of regrets ? Do not stop the obvious, do not rain on this parade. Let it be, let it be, let it be, the withdrawal, the runback, the satisfaction and the termination. I'll be around, even in the elements.

    Within the earth, beholding the birthstones.
    Homogenised with water, the quencher of all.
    Ashing over the kindle of ancient charcoals.
    Swaying under the mother nature's marking.
    Co-existing along ether, the all persuasive.

    I will be around, the legend has it. And, so told the rebellion. Here's to a way out, here's to mandolins and violins. Amen to all, Amen to none. Pardon the mobs, be thankful to daisies. No mournings here, just keep walking. Away, abroad my art, anywhere is fine. Just don't try here. The blame is all mine for the taking, and I'm overjoyed to have it that way. May separation be of solace for you, my other self. May you be of power. Merci au revoir.
    ©frankly_moloch

  • quignogthence 22w

    And, I do fear disappointment. But then again, a bleached life is no life afterall.

    - Frankly_moloch

    #damned #beyondsinful #ProjectHailMary

    Read More

    Suicidal Sin///

    I am the rhyme and reason of affliction. I am the indulgence, the swaying malodour of thioacetone. My nauseating encephalon spewed the leeching pretences of narcissistic nihilism. My marrow, on the path of maturation, just straight up revolted against the bones and breathing. Somehow faltering amidst saltation and sublimation, my hands gripped themselves on the latch of the cabinet. The rush of rapture restrained my sense of wisdom. Everything shall perish, and days were to die. Without any thought, acting like an animal, I started punching and scratching the cupboard. Pain, the word never felt so good in the feels up until now. As the slivers of wood pierced the fingertips, and with my wrists acting as the playground for glass chunks. I painted the chamber scarlet. Running out of time, the coward in me started to opt the easiest method out. The devil is running me down. I started throwing out the bottles and packs. With my existence melting over pleasure and power, I got my hands on salvation. They all tried to trick me in, with their offers and delegations of comfort and resolution. "A quite large audience you've gathered me boy", said the moloch, sipping on my dreadful smile.

    "Hurry up then, you must give them the show of their lifetime. You must concede towards the forbidden.", The bastard again commanded.

    I have a great fear of death. The insecurities of sinning are already beyond the nightmares of nostalgia. I always tried to put up a front. But, I'm feeling it right now, the invincibility called idiocy. The craze of contrite and the courage to confront mysticality. I took my stand against the divine rights. And with a defiant smile, I bowed on my knees welcoming the bedlam to come after me.
    My hands broke the seal of the bottle and mouth started chugging the entirety of miasma, that my madness liberated.

    One gulp down, two gulps down, three to the four, eyes getting blurried and the curtain about to drop. As if my life is spared from bliss and beguiling. My baleful boon is slowly absorbing the plot of pride, and when it's almost the time to wish laters and toodles, moloch appeared again.

    With his hand patting my head, and joy in his eyes, he started to walk away.

    "You did good, mortal. Now onto the depths of hell. Tsetchem leshalom. ", Said the devil, as his footsteps were fading.

    "What about you ? What now ? ", I asked in curiousity, on the brink of fadeaway.

    "Now we feast on another prey. Onto hell."
    As the spectre walks out the dying consciousness of mine.

    " My thoughts on Suicide ?"
    " Don't do it, if you don't fear death enough."

    Killing yourself is easy, paying the collateral is something that's not everyone's cup of tea.
    Suicide is the most innocent yet most cowardly way of attaining peace.

    I would do it because I'm afraid. Maybe, I won't. Who knows ?
    ©frankly_moloch