sayan_naskar

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To See The Lights are All faded and That The Heaven is Overrated.

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  • sayan_naskar 16w

    Telomere

    An ambience of solace, worshipped by clouds of smoke from dying cigarettes bloom in the sky at night. A poignant reminder, wading through layers of memories leaves a stench smell of sulphur. Subdued screams bandage the wounds with blisters. Inane reminiscence rakes up the effrontery to question the relevance of existence. The cerebrum provides no indemnity for the blue splotched heart. relief peeps from a distance, drops of tears apart. The moonlight illuminates the balcony, but the room sobs in seclusion, the caress of light does not perfuse the abandoned. Flow of time is seized to warrant exoneration but the clock insolently refrains from submission. Rebuttals of a mutilated heart find themselves in a rusty bin of trash, infested with flies and maggots. Beyond the visible skyline, the stars align to beckon to Oblivion. Garrison retreats as the fragile skeleton reaches for a jacket to put on. A new day is getting ready to put the sun back on the horizon.

    ©Sayan_Naskar ( Shady )

  • sayan_naskar 24w

    Lux in Tenebris

    Somewhere in between the lines of existence and extinction,
    We can no longer see us through this billowing smoke of a war.
    Somewhere, far away from where our dreams sprawl over,
    Life and happiness no longer add up to the eternity, we were promised to have.
    We are searching for bounty in a cataclysmic land,
    And sulk in seclusion, once we're thrown out of our lulls.
    I only wish you well, for I've come to realise this Quantum scheme of being loved and getting hurt.
    Reprising our will to grant more than what we owed,
    won't help us get rid of the angst infesting our hearts.
    Despite knowing that an abundance of shallow keys won't unlock the door, it's only gonna drown us off in a bloodbath,
    I gallingly wait for the dawn like scrutinizing the Voynich script over and over.
    I hope you're listening, I hope you'd still remember me,
    Along this continuum of a condescending time, as your favourite regret, when the world disintegrates to its primordial atoms.
    While I choose you everytime as my weapon to remind myself of why I can no longer afford another war.

    ©Sayan_Naskar ( Shady )

  • sayan_naskar 25w

    Veritas numquam perit

    You're the light at the death of the dark,
    Like absolution from the anguish, an abandoned child has borne since the first time, he sighted the world.
    You're not the complacency of a spiteful man,
    But you're the tears of communion that fall off the pastel cheeks of a boy who had lost sight of his mother in the crowd.
    You're the priceless souvenir of an old traveller.
    You're the invisible contours of an endless universe.
    You're the only heart beating after a harrowing massacre,
    You hold in your cradle, the incessant flow of sand in the hourglass.
    You're the baptized soul of an apostle,
    Preaching a peroration to invoke rectitude against distortion,
    You're the relapsing reflection of the last vision on the mind of a blind man.
    You're all the feelings of a mother upon holding her child for the first time,
    You're the twinge that humbled the criminal after committing his first crime.
    You're the Memento Mori that gives away the unforgiving nature of time.
    In you, death salvages the futility of life,
    In you only, we're eternally Alive.

    ©Sayan_Naskar ( Shady )

  • sayan_naskar 37w

    I wish I had someone to explain to me,
    This dichotomy of life, when I was still young and budding,
    That we are to tiptoe along on a trembling string stretched unto destruction since genesis.
    I wish I had seen the flowers through shredded petals, and made sense of infinity with a pinch of salt.
    And believed more in this line in the sand, that awaits the ebbing froth of the sea.
    The sand in thy hourglass, how nimbly it empties,
    Your imprints burn away till the incantations of time turn an opulence of mass into a void worth intangible energy.
    The flames of your pyre devour the memories of when you exulted in seeing the face of your child for the first time.
    Reiterating the entrancing narrative of trepidation, our search for verity remains in the cradle of eternity.
    While I keep asking the stars for the last twenty years,
    How do they escape the ordinance of this universe,
    Whilst you were made to relinquish your rights to life, leaving behind a broken wife and a child who knew nothing about the static of being mortal let alone its untimely smite.

    ©Sayan_Naskar ( Shady )

    @mirakee @writersnetwork #pod

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    Petals Of September

    ©Sayan_Naskar ( Shady )

  • sayan_naskar 38w

    Shades Of Nature

    Make me listen, while we gasp for one last breath,
    Remind us of all the morbid things we inflicted on you,
    Preconize your verdict, that we'd be delivered unto our fate.
    We stand hopeless now, humbled before the derisive cold in your eyes,
    We're too skunked in this battle to afford the truculence as to ask you why?
    But if you could, please
    justify your reasons to the convicts, before we drown in your deluge, let us be aware of how you loved hearing the terrors in our voice, just like we had been eating away at the green, you yourself sowed across your chest.
    Tell us, how we poisoned the air in your lungs, with toxic chemicals that kept us steady on our way to preponderance.
    Coerce us to admit, we reek of rapacity,
    That we're conceited, rancorous, fallen from grace.
    In the name of our luxury, we dug holes across your skin, we made you feverish,
    So, you've decided to deploy your troops, to avenge your waterlogged heart till we all become obsolete.
    As I struggle to write this tale of your crusade, only in this moment, hundreds of us have already exhaled the last breath.
    It's hard to reckon the bounty of this sublime fete of hatred,
    Who's the bird of prey now, when the mother herself begins to lash out at her children?
    Maybe in time, tragedy becomes a statistic,
    But I'd never understand how did this redressal reflect your grace for the ones amongst us for whom luxury was a myth, who contributed the least to your pain.
    Why did they have to pay the heaviest price, when all they had been doing was fighting for survival on the streets all their life! before they succumbed to your invisible war-machine without knowing a trace of your intent.

    ©Sayan_Naskar ( Shady )

    @writersnetwork

    #pod #Covid

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    It's hard to reckon the bounty of this sublime fete of hatred,
    Who's the bird of prey now, when the mother herself begins to lash out at her children?
    Maybe in time, tragedy becomes a statistic,
    But I'd never understand how did this redressal reflect your grace for the ones amongst us for whom luxury was a myth, who contributed the least to your pain.
    Why did they have to pay the heaviest price, when all they had been doing was fighting for survival on the streets all their life! before they succumbed to your invisible war-machine without knowing a trace of your intent.

    ©Sayan_Naskar

  • sayan_naskar 41w

    Self Love

    It's all translucent now that I've grown up, from being safely held in the cradle of innocence, to finding myself gasping for breath at the feet of experience, I've witnessed the evolution of my soul and regression of my consciousness. It's within the purview of introspection to realise how spontaneous a process it has been to dwindle to progressively less awaken forms of ourselves. Maybe we couldn't help our souls from being overthrown when the carnal temptations lured us into labyrinths where putrefaction runs eternal. But we have mastered the art of acceptance in our strife to escape the guilt. Therefore, we had to sew our eyes shut, we abandoned the judgements of our conscience, and pretence had to be our only refuge, for All of us had to leave our impressions that'd stand the test of time. The universe created its own discourse to maintain tranquility and justice but we individually rewrote it over and over again so as to salvage us from any trace of regret that might dare to trouble our minds. We have familiarised ourselves with living in a trance, so as to admire flesh and bones and discarded any idea of excavation so that we won't ever have to mourn discovering the lacunae in our being. So, we keep humming along with the ethos of self love, no matter whatever we choose to do, the earth would always spin around us. Afterall life's too short to retain a space for self-introspection, so, no matter how harrowingly we have bruised another heart, ours are never deserving of even a splinter of the hurt we once caused. Because we're a delegation defining paragons of rationality. In this world, that we ourselves have crafted from scratch, even the soul of humility has been whittled down to a swaying subject of relativity and we, the kings and queens of this hollowed sphere could never believe nothing we did could void our claim to the throne.

    ©Sayan_Naskar ( Shady )

  • sayan_naskar 43w

    Love, Flowers, Hatred

    Why does it have to feel this empty?
    How do we lose sight of what should have been clear to us?
    Why are we always lost in a crowd of strangers?
    No, the stars no longer break in our eyes,
    What we have lost, we have lost them forever.
    I see people mourning their lost love,
    I see agony oozing through their words.
    How preposterous it might seem, we couldn't save what once brought us into this world.
    My mind drives me crazy, while my brain somehow keeps me rational.
    In the name of rectifying our mistakes, our efforts at aggravating the mess are sempiternal.
    What's right is subjective, the intellectuals condescend to us.
    But I have grown tired of oscillating between life and death just to understand what they intend to mean by that.
    How long will they pretend to have not known the truth?
    For how long would " Sorry " draw a veil over their keen intent of poking at fresh wounds?
    I have never known, when they would stop defining " Freedom " for what it was never supposed to be.
    Why does Love deserve to suffocate in an ocean of contempt for every wrong thing we ourselves chose to be?

    ©Sayan_Naskar ( Shady )

  • sayan_naskar 43w

    Before Blind Eyes

    I could hardly drag myself to my desk,
    I don't seem to find the right words to redeem what I feel inside my chest.
    Our lives, they said, were made of moments, they said, not to worry as it was just a phase, soon we'd be fine again.
    I read somewhere the universe was working for our greater good, but it seems I haven't figured it out yet!
    Why do we need to break our heads on doctrines, that are too hard for us to comprehend?
    I'm only a man of blood and skeleton, how do I decode the enigma of our existence?
    I was made to leave everything I ever had, everything I loved and everything I wanted to protect,
    Why do they still whisper in my ears, that I'm the one writing my own fate?
    I didn't wish to have so many questions, I didn't wish to see things, the thoughts of which had chilled me to my bones since the day I learnt about them.
    Why do they always expect me to accept everything and move ahead?
    If we were created to savour the glory of each second, of each moment in this perfect design of a divine system,
    Then why do we need to keep bleeding before blind eyes, and leave ourselves choking on some tawdry promises of better days?

    ©Sayan_Naskar ( Shady )

  • sayan_naskar 44w

    Walking Away

    The heft that breathes inside your chest,
    Doesn't it feel like waiting for a spring that never followed the winter?
    The absence pulls you closer to a hollow in your heart that you didn't ever wish to create,
    Then desolation starts to vex your mind with its incandescent questions.
    Because it's just so hard for you to convince yourself of its worth,
    To trace down an answer to the question of what tears us apart.
    Are we supposed to hold on or hold ourselves back?
    from giving in to identities we wished we never had.
    You walk on the edge of sanity everytime the reel spins out to unfold certain parts of your memories,
    You wish to go back in time and fix everything,
    But time has always been the master of the puppets, that we are.
    But why does it feel so familiar? Why does it feel like floating so close to heaven but we'd never be there?
    Is it worth regretting that we chose to burn out before we'd eventually die off?
    Does it feel this way to bury parts of ourselves that we never wished to have?
    I guess, we would never know, what hurts us more, To hold on or to let go.

    ©Sayan_Naskar ( Shady )

  • sayan_naskar 44w

    The Prisoners of War

    For the torment that shall rise,
    Unto God in us manifests to purge the world of its dearth of minds.
    Catastrophes suffocate the lux of light,
    Repose dawns upon us while we strangle conscience silently out of spite.
    Pleonexia incandesces in our eyes, the demagogues in us scream the gloating accounts of our strifes, as we mould suffering into sacrifice.
    Tears of one serve to broaden the simper on another's face,
    We rejoice the triumph in a colossal collapse of faith.
    When zealots boycott rites to celebrate sacrilege,
    Humanity drops down to its scathed knees at the altar,
    redefining salvation until the voice of the Holy spirit is slurred away.

    ©Sayan_Naskar ( Shady )