From a solitary sea…

All the alleys are quite known to me but I ask what is perplexing to understand one? I’ve spoken to the vultures inside a turquoise blue hall. It smelled desolate. My skin realized the death of lies coming from naive prisoners. Even the normal hue of my chai (Tea) turned anomalous. My blood tasted suspicious as if I took a sip. One more new evening and I tied my relentless body with a cold-blooded mahogany rope.

An illusory phase of the mind knows transitions, empty thoughts, pageless books, handless clocks, etc. That seems incredibly incomplete but this is how you can paint solitude and express yourself plainly. Only a few want to feel you and not exactly understand you. So, you now know sympathy and empathy aren’t the same. But, you are both in one soul.

I fear to feel my bones without a body. With a penchant for deceased flowers, I’ll yet be sympathetic if you kiss me with tulips from… This place that doesn’t love flaws is too much to assimilate. I too no more speak about poetry, novels and describe the beauty of cover pages. I feel a capella inside my heart. I’ll live in exile. You’ll not get it. You will solely ponder…
Who would desire to recognize my quantum leaps?
My heart is perhaps not a sanctuary for humans. Wayless it stands. Now, a ubiquitous letter wishes to wither in a concealed heaven.

Lala from a solitary sea…

~ B. Farhaj Jebin

A vibrant dawn?

These days and nights are hard and you realize that you’ve been isolating from the discordant arenas. You don’t understand mental peace now. You’ve no guts to accompany your self-inflicted unendurable injuries. You want something really bad but it has gone too far just at the blink of an eye. Your given hints weren’t enough to take into account and you were ignored.
Unabashedly, you did everything that you could do to make it credible but it went in vain. There are a few who are in love with your devastating present state of life and are giving big applause. But, you still have some hope and aspiring for vibrant dawn. You can’t figure out the reasons behind the worst case scenario. You believe in the potency of conviction to grip your shattered self to the core. You know that it’ll definitely make a way out.
Your faith will lead you somewhere and you’ll evolve into a phoenix and comprehend the beauty of test and trials. You have painted patience on your soul and you’re waiting for an exquisite day to come.

~ B. Farhaj Jebin

Humans in the midst of Corona Virus

Maybe this phase is designed to bring us back to a state of humanness and turn us into sturdy so that we prepare ourselves enough to deal with circumstances. The present aura of misery has a lot to reveal and it’s telling us something we’ll be able to analyze and decipher after a long passage. We know that this prophecy is within us but intentionally we’re binding our mind to keep aside. That’s totally bleak.
It has a sole motive and that’s to connect us to ourselves. We’ve forgotten the basics of life. We’ve failed to realize there are some things that matter and they are in need of our priority. But, we humans have been constantly ignoring those. We’ve lost ourselves, maybe in some unwanted stuff as well. We just don’t care anymore. Everybody is retaining a damn care attitude. Our inner core has gone numb and we’re unaware of it.
We’ve successfully surrendered in maintaining valuable relationships and this generation is at stake. We no longer abide by virtue and vice but are simply absorbed to fulfill our bellies. These days feelings and opinions are traded in the name of human insurance. How naive!
See how vulnerable humans are and we actually can’t fight against the law of nature. Now, where has pride gone? Where has materialism gone? Disasters aren’t discriminatory and bigoted in nature. Supremacy has got nothing to do with them. Catastrophes don’t believe in the fascist rule. They attack as well as barrage irrespective of color, wealth, race, religion, caste, creed, sex, etc.
Out of nowhere, they show symptoms of their arrival which compels you to think about departure followed by utter desolation. Greed and ecstasy can fade away in the blink of an eye. But, selfishness is never-ending. We take it along with us.
What’s the use of egotism? Just remember we came alone and we need to go alone. Seclusion is a part of survival.  Helplessness has to be our identity because we breathe inside that and death is outta our custody.

B. Farhaj Jebin

Words from the winter solstice

We’re a plethora of conundrums,

particles of oblivion.

There lies a phobia in not being understood and also in being understood.

We fear and at the same time summon sinisterism through the guns of atrocity.

The earth will experience hatred, do you know?

I’ll tell you how and it is plain as a pikestaff.

I begin with the revolution of celestial bodies,

aversion of the sun and the moon when they will no longer abide by each other,

immensely tired of their fucking jobs.

Myriad of stars will pour like the heavy shower of rain and rain will rush off above the sky.

I tell you it’s phenomenal to think beyond and it’s not a lie.

You must be knowing broken hearts took ages to surmount and they’re never the same.

Why aren’t we curious for death and a voyage after that?

An edged track is mind-numbing that’s the life I say but you may term it as a shibboleth.

Artistic Homo sapiens needn’t fathom but rather usher their personas as no man did before,

grasp that thrutching coercion into themselves maybe or may not be their thing.

They really needn’t scare what if people ween them as insane cannibals?

But, if art blossoms in not being sober then let them be inflammable.

Here comes an end of words from the winter solstice.

B. Farhaj Jebin

Disparity in me

Come here with romance of liss and my tears will lean on you.

Before you ask me what I really feel just undress me and count my scars so that you be able to sew.

Unlike many, you’ll feel a girl with no enticing collarbone,

vincible breasts and body as almost decayed.

Feel free to shower the cascade of your offenses but do not masquerade.

In every page of my black diary you’ll find a sketch of a withered leaf at the bottom.

Many years will pass but I will succumb to understand who’s the real man of autumn?

I tell you hours with me are no less than watching carcasses in front of your charismatic eyes.

Touch my breath or live in them but I’m always going to rhapsodise your concealed cries.

Words that flow from my soul may make you feel seriously fragile.

Maneuver my taciturnity so that it feels easy to act agile.

An apocalypse touched me once and

coerced me to feel not so far and not so near.

Piercing feels better now if you are here not to create haven but stab me to stuck once again somewhere in between out of fear.

Like the thorns in a rose, don’t be the wellhead behind all the burns in me.

Like a soothsayer in an orb,

be a body of both love and lust who knows how to absorb all the disparities in me.

~ B. Farhaj Jebin

Bleeding Heart

On one fine eve, I sought for stars far in a void nightfall,
longing and perspiring for an illusion to be true.
How do I know they don’t always flicker and at times feel blue just like me and you.

A zone of relentless thoughts get caffeinated, somewise adjoin my soul
yet never blend twinning the Gulf of Alaska.
Snuggling bed sheets covered by the bloodstain I often portray my own jeopardy saga.

Once a damsel ran short of words to betell what exactly is living in a brothel and its auction.
My therapy succumbed to get they are ruthlessly seduced but nobody knows the real art of seduction.

A soul without a body and a body without a soul, which you forechoose, oh folk, my folk?
My subtle psychology ended up craving for the first since the day I heard someone
laying naked and inhumanly fucked.

Mayhap the sublimity you desire to feel in one’s chin smear you with mundanity.
The perfervid nature for being loved may someday thrutch you into a dichotomy.

Let your obsessions not be mistaken in the name of choices,
addiction in the name of affection.
Every path of life has sheet music, maybe glittered on your forehead of sophistication.

At length, the bewilderment compels me to perceive this world as an abstract art.
A few humans took the guts to leave suicide letters too and in the midst of forgotten ones
I’m surviving as a bleeding heart.

B. Farhaj Jebin

Bygone Days…

There were days when we had conversation about insomniacs and their similarities in nocturnal activities.
It must be an easy task to commit clandestine deeds you whispered and unwillingly I nodded.
I talked about politics and activism and got warned lives are under threat,
violence revolving around humans just like the earth revolves around the sun and summed up by making it pellucid that most of the areas are conflict-ridden these days. I shushed.

Pondering about the meaning of your name gives me sovereignty to adjoin mine with yours.
If it’s not future that can settle us together then what’s the issue in adjusting the rest which may play a good role?
We’re kaleidoscopic. You had undiscovered thoughts and those compelled me to shut my fuck up. I felt I sounded lame.
Things weren’t like I wished but with you hours were more than discussions on romanticism and Netflix series. It was nothing more or less than listening to soothing music.
I’ve spoken about gender issues and how we females have been silenced since ages.
Questions like Who is responsible? Can you give me a reasonable explanation on behalf of your melancholic words?

With these words I guess you convinced me you are ruthless? Huh?Our disparities could not demonstrate us thoughtless I must say.
We only had commas and no full-stops.

We argued at your point that destructive criticism is really profound. Maybe I needed some knowledge from your intellectual sea.
We accepted that we’ll remain unapologetic for being honest and sturdy about bringing debates on the table instead of meals.
We did promise to hover as narcissists if it’s doing no harm to the world and always be imaginative over everything. Also, daydream as much as we can.
We agreed we’ll pen meaningless prose and poetry and never try to absorb ourselves in someone else’s mindset.
I’m surviving to fulfill our expectations and we shouldn’t feel hopeless today.

Four years to go and I still can’t figure out what exactly happened to us?
We are invisible psyches. It reflects all your shades whenever I recall our journey from a past that has no fault in it.

-B. Farhaj Jebin

Paralyzed Poem

Believe me,
I’ve already tried to pen the baseless poem,
played multiple songs at a time,
studied philanthropy from
dawn to dusk to save me from
something hostile.
A few convictions acted like
the panacea to me and
at a slow pace
a demure heart got
happily convinced.
My feelings have been lynched.
Some of the remarkable
characteristics
have been marked extravagant and
above all my eloquence has been
abducted.
Now that I’ve gained skills on
tolerance,
it feels serendipity was meant to
be my fate.
Last year I was my own nemesis
who
loved departure from
near and dear ones and spent hours
by thinking about waves of
the afterlife.
But, I’ll never apologize.
At present, I’m in the midst of a
boulevard where humans come
and trade their vulnerability.
I’ve been through mansplaining to
an extreme level and also I’m reluctant
to get into the nitty-gritty.
I’ve sought the perfect quote to
exactly define my personal state but
nothing
could help me out.
I’ve tried to illustrate lyrics with my
monotonous life but it only gave
birth to dark clouds.
Tell me about this poetry.
Could you interpret it? Could you
touch it?
I know you’ve failed and my heart
says it loud.
See once again I’ve
successfully
penned
a paralyzed poem.
Next time, it’ll be barely possible
to connect with a suspenseful rhythm.

-B. Farhaj Jebin

A Flawless Past…

Exactly one year ago I’ve promised not to retract but see this naive morning reminisced about a monotonous saga. These oaths by any means don’t work when you possess an adamant interest in someone.
So, here it’s.
Do you realize or may I aid you to realize?
On most days, I rain melancholy. I also collect it through my eyes then shed it as usual.
I recall those perplexing hours when you suggested me to use names of beautiful towns and cities,
add nonsensical tales about Casanovas to bring some productive poetry.
But, nothing could hurt me.
You used abusive rant on my works,
never skipped luck to throw some destructive criticism but my goodness I was never butthurt.
I tried to decipher your mouth full of repugnances that lead me to shove myself into a vicious cycle.
What does relationships resonates like for it appeared unfathomable to me?
Whenever I said disparities present in Homo sapiens can’t be always elegant, there used to be your agreement which stood above everything. But, silently I wanted you to disagree and that never happened.
Through my silence, I thought you’re enough to drive inside every obscured portion but I was insane to expect.
According to your sapiosexuality, that proves I’m unskilled and miserable as well.
Now, with your absence, I feel I’ve no tomorrow and today will come to an end.
I don’t want progress and all I insist is running seconds must stop.
Or else I don’t know.
Now and then, I wonder if I could unsay whatever I said and say what I didn’t. Perhaps that could favor us from two distinct situations.
A social butterfly isn’t capable of being equal to the height of an extroverted guy, right?
Thousands of pessimistic reflections overpowered my head and left me skeptical to date.
You wish for that form of love that feels righteous and has deep eroticism.
You don’t like to go hunting for it.
I pondered if I’m still a chick to comprehend you. Am I the only one who’s no less than a lunatic?
Which love has the decency, I now less care about.
What made me concerned is about the transitions that took a room in my thought process or the way I used to be.
I’ve left my conscientious essence behind bars. People can’t relate to my words. I possess a lot of aftereffects. No worries, it’s not because of you. No regrets.
I’m responsible after all I could not find responses that I actually could.
I don’t understand crocodile tear and I’m no excellent at that.
Right now nobody on this effing earth can convince me to be optimistic about life,
no professional motivator can inject vaccines consisting of self-assurance,
no post from Facebook or Instagram can uplift me to proliferate my good deeds,
nothing can lend a hand for my self-induced circumstances.
And, that is it.
You may not be a dilemma to all which is why I am here to concede it’s me the tremendous perplexion that is rare to be found.
I’m random and I’ve access to the venom in my heart.
I am cursing myself at its peak. It must be fine as you idolized this vulnerable art.
There were days when I had a fire in my belly to be an ideal lover though I don’t believe in flawlessness.
Back then I intentionally dismissed the fact that it’s not your cup of tea to get it clear?
You’re a real reason and also not really a reason for things that went wrong.
Be it 2:00 am or 6:00 pm, there’s a hell in me which speaks to unlove you.
Just unable to put my efforts into understanding what all I’ve written till now and what else I have to pen.
Articulation seems tough as old boots when the subject is us.
You’ve escaped and saved your heart from drowning in a gloomy glass.
And, I’ve saved myself from glistening a way too deep. It’s scary for you I know.
You’ll survive, man. I’ll survive. That will matter.
I will not wish for our segregation to meet once again,
I will wish that we don’t ever remember our 24*7 conversations,
drinks that we had and sex on the beach (cocktail) was where your soul rested. Oh, I need to forget that too.
Then, comes about the weeks we spent surfing around the internet to amass a few sensual movies so that we can gleefully watch,
the trip to Venice and that was where we fervently kissed for the first time.
And, it’s high time to brainwash and say Once upon a time on this earth. It doesn’t exist anymore.
It drives me nuts every time I try to absorb the reality of our trivial love story.
Someone who does not like us may consider it as a cupboard love and honestly, there’s no use of feeling sorry now.
Before I finish off our not so romantic tale, it’ll sound human if I dare to think about you. For a few more seconds maybe? (A bit)
You are you,
You are incompletely complete,
You are artistically nonartistic,
You’re the November of my horizon and what not?
I can’t sum up through my literary works weak as water.
My heart that still yearns for you over every psyche says it all.

~ B. Farhaj Jebin

An intense slumber

I’m in an intense slumber where I know nothing but an upcoming saga of romance.
I can neither stay nor depart and
it resembles a convoluted fence.
I’m hunting for human consolation
from one land to another,
I’m provoking people to shun me to ether.
Alas, I already know it’s the highest
power who can exceptionally pacify.
I need no bottles of elixir or eternal life.
Here, I’m vehemently waiting for the
Day of Resurrection to come and just
get lost into the unknown…
Also, a village I know that is succulent and keen summons my heart as a sublime.
So, I told why don’t you insist your man of letters to pull me closer and kiss for a lifetime?
After all, I’ve survived months in a thunderbolt,
the world and his wife were naive to understand this drastic assault and I still remember nights when I could only vociferate. (I had no other option)
I’ve gone insomniac and I think perplexion was inked on my fate.
If a cascade of affection touches my lips then maybe I genuinely can move on.
Now, it feels lush to remain overwhelmed in a deep slumber.
Who can pulverize the conscience of a patient lover?

//B. Farhaj Jebin//
05/04/2020