City Streets Blues – Photography Series #1

All the noises in the world shall subside,

while in the melody of melancholy shall we rest-

and when those full of life shall knock upon our doors,

they will be greeted by the songs of our souls –

of the roads taken – of the railroads slept,

of the voyages sailed through, of trinkets gathered,

of the darlings abandoned, of the mistakes we leapt.

The sun shall drown to ignite the night –

we remember our lost brothers amidst the starry skies,

spiraling down to an abrupt halt at painful stops –

Smoking marijuana along the vast emptiness of

the desolated streets of memories –

remembering, hoping, crying, screaming –

intellects caged in the shape of apes –

drifting apart from sanity!

Look in the eye of a madman – utmost kind,

and yet so cruel – aged with time –

his humble ego – shattered yet alive,

as he prepares to venture to the other side,

all alone, leaving all behind –

the meaningless hope of the futile life,

I met a madman once – though a stranger to-

-his dizzy glance – he embraced me like a brother,

and talked of things that I knew not – but –

from the words that trespassed my ears –

it was clear that I was meant to.

“Know not the world, grow not knowing it,

know not what’s right, grow not learning it,

know not what’s God, grow not worshiping it,

know what you are, grow not deceiving it,

know what survival is, grow not eluding it,

know what your love is, grow not forgetting it”

Take off from the stale old road by the shore,

where dear old hope broke our soul –

the shattered pieces of which –

touched a thousand places –

floating beneath the chill of the moonlight coal –

for one day – in the sinful premise of life,

a light shall flicker to give birth to a vision,

visible only when closed are our eyes –

like enlightenment brewing within meditation.

About Prahaas:

Book veteran, 3:00 AM poet, serial font stalker, movie marathoner โ€“ a dysfunctional wannabe who dreams in โ€˜black & whiteโ€™.