Death, Truly Imminent


A ceremony of departure ensues.
The third eye awakens, the god of muse. 
Faces appear in the water and the night sky.
They beg to decipher the meaning of goodbye.
The mouth of torment has no teeth,
yet it devours all that can breathe.
Death brings a dark treat and a gift of curse.
A smile visits the god’s face, blissfully perverse. 

© Aniket More

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The One Time I Met God, Never


Why do people say that I should believe in the existence of God? The existence of someone not natural, superficial but accurate. Must someone ask me to defy my senses, my logic and all the meaning that consists in me and to follow a being which controls us, controls all and who is the sleep maker, I will not do so, for it has nothing to do with arrogance or with considering me mighty above all, but it’s the humble truth that didn’t escape me. Maybe, it’s my version of truth, my version of perceiving or one of my shortcomings that I am committing to such blasphemy according to many, but I’ll still accept what is true to me, what is called as the truth to me. 

Time and time, I have been called weak and then I’ve been called strong, by myself and no one else, and as time aged, I’ve become prone to myself, my shortcomings and my almost existent, made up sixth sense and prophecies of failure, abandonment and then companionship again, an imminent circle of life, but I have grown out of circumstances and vicious fangs of madness, and survived, I did it by compelling myself to move, to grow, to fall and then rise again and I’m happy to share my defeat and victory with myself, it’s sempiternal, my downfall and rise, but I hold on, keep myself on my toes and leap, and when I say this, my arrogance isn’t whispering in to my ears, but my submission to the truth that I am responsible for my growth and my deterioration, and not God. 

If he is responsible for both, then yes, he is the most powerful of all, and if he is God and how people portray him then I’m sure that he is humble and forgiving, that he wishes nothing but the good of the beings he has created, and if he does, I’m sure he won’t hang me for believing in myself, struggling by myself and rising beyond everything, I hope he won’t mind that I’m taking all the credit to have made myself what I am today, if he doesn’t mind then sure he is God and I’d like to see God someday, but if he doesn’t like the fact that I’m taking credit for everything that I am doing to myself or that I’ve done to myself, then pardon me, but isn’t God being arrogant himself? Isn’t he supposed to be the well wisher? If he is boasting about creating this world and full-filing our wishes and dreams, will he also boast about putting us through pain and misery? Will he take the blame for our downfall when he can take the credit for our happiness? Will he tell me that this is a test, that life is a test created by him and that we are his subjects, should I not be upset about that? Then, again I ask, should I not take the credit for making and destroying myself? 

I think, there will be biased and supportive answers to these questions, but I’m not looking for any, I’m not asking anyone to prove anything to me, I’m not asking for knowledge from the book of wisdom or the logical truth, I’m in colloquy with me and asking these questions to myself which I will not find answers to but I know, I sincerely know that I will continue believing in myself, that way, I won’t have to blame anyone or offer my life to anyone, but myself. 

I don’t need miracles in life from God, and if you offer one from the book of magic, I’ll pay for peace for this globe in barter against my life, if not, then your miracles are not for me, they are for the T.V screen. 

© Aniket More

I Speak From The Mouth Of The God That Doesn’t Exist

A candle March in to the dark, a flame that burns the city. 
Human being, a hideous thing to walk around this earth and bind it will the spell of his curse. 
An apple eaten in my name, why did you fall for such betrayal? Oh gullible humans from the garden of Eden.
I gave you limbs to walk this earth, to water the plants and to nurture the soil. I didn’t give you limbs to fucking rape, to fucking drive to hell. 
I didn’t lend you a mouth to spit on the graves that once saved you. I didn’t give you meaning so that you could turn me meaningless. 
Why do you rejoice the come of me? Why do you rejoice your own blasphemy?
Are you rotten to the core, dear human? I see it that way. 
Why are you killing in the name of me? No sacrifices needed. 
My mouth is shut, it’s sewn tight by your skin. My words won’t reach you and they won’t teach you. 
Please don’t fucking preach me, I despise you. 
Did you sell humanity for your depraved pleasures? Did you sell your soul to the world under you?
You’re an animal and you are equal to all. 
Equal to the soil and sand, the penumbra and the land. 
You’re a mighty wave, so why are you drowning yourself?
Don’t knell before me, don’t rape in front of my fucking eyes and tell me lies. I see all, I breathe all, I can be all but I can never be you. I will never be you, fucking human.
You fucking monstrosity call yourself humans. You are not paradise, you are a waste, nothing to debate.
Have you heard of karma? Karma is a fucking reaper, sometimes filled with grim and glee. 
Fear it! Fear the wrath of karma. Fear the hands of another human that will choke you when time comes and tides turn.
Remember, I won’t stay quiet any longer. I’m an earthquake in making. I’m the suffocating silence behind my sewn mouth.
Soon, I will force destruction upon your race and there won’t be any innocent left for you are all same to me, born and dead by my mercy.

© Aniket More

This Is Life

It’s all about I, me and me. Why? Because my heart is broken, because I’m suffocating everyday or because I wake up with a painful chore called living. Why am I to suffer? Why am I to break down everyday in unknown places? Should I ask God about it? Should I ask the drunk man in the alley? Will he understand me? Will God understand me? Will any being on the planet understand me?
Every question is rhetorical. There are no answers to it. This is life and I’m living it. 
© Aniket More