Stop

Everything feels very quiet,
My lips are moving but I can't say anything.
It has passed all boundaries,
It has passed all that is humane.

Everything isn't as genuine,
The way I used to see it, but now I can't unsee.
Stop it this moment!
Stop it right away!

Poverty is what has flourished,
Terror is amidst us everyday, our day to day lives.
What did just happen?
Don't let this happen.

I seek for your sympathy,
We can prevent only what we choose to prevent.
For some air I am choking,
For only some air I am breathing.

(c) Mitul Magu
18th September, 2017

Black and White

Between black and white,

Right and wrong,

There are morals,

That I must follow.

 (c) Mitul Magu

26^th September, 2016

Clockwork

The form of caress that gently follows,

My inner demons that feels so hollow.

I cannot address what speaks to me,

What has been and will always be,

A sight to remember.

It strokes in a way that I do not know,

Like seasons it changes to and fro.

“How do you feel like now” I ask,

“What has happened in the past?”

I do not know.

It slyly turns into subtle madness,

Changing again to rushed sadness.

Even when I begin to see,

Hope that is momentary,

It feels dim.

The heat builds up and does not go,

There is a side that I cannot show.

For it needs to be built up in me,

And in time I will reveal,

It’s clockwork.

And then June makes its way,

Extending summer to another day.

“Winter will come soon though”

“Autumn isn’t really far you know”

I pledge.

With made up memories in my mind,

That speak to me all the time.

I feel sorrow in what I shouldn’t have done,

And look back at how far I had come,

I feel regret.

With open windows on my wall,

In the heated summer I call.

To all those who have been close to me,

Who see the life the way I see,

With remorse.

And in my book I’ll soon write down,

A symbolic passage of what I’m bound.

And I’m going to leave it there and then,

For weeks to come and weeks to spend,

With delight.

Until I find a reason to rise,

That I no longer need despise.

That I no longer have to run,

That I have fears to overcome,

For good.

And winter flashes back through those days,

And brings back good in many ways.

“But June has gone and May will stay”

“Where will you go now” I say,

I’m stuck.

And with those emotions in my mind,

I will have to forgive myself this time.

That what I have done cannot be undone,

And will have to accept what I have become,

With forgiveness.

And the clockwork slowly begins to reveal,

A quiet, gentle side of me.

That was before and holds on again,

And tells me of what I have been,

Careful.

The seasons cycle on and on,

“With no potential harm? Come on!”

I will truly begin to see,

That I’m not a part of what others can’t be,

A lone survivor.

And now every now and then,

I speak up to the existence within,

That is there acceptance in my mind?

That will everything be fine?

I ponder.

And now weeks and hours alone,

Cannot bring back that tale I know.

And with that I bring to adjust,

An old tale that I must,

See be brought out of the heavens doors,

And left in the open floor,

Of time, need and disgust,

And framed onto the warm walls,

Of forgiveness.

                                                                                (c) Mitul Magu

                                                                                16 July 2016

A Message from God

May the silent breeze

Touch upon your heart and lips,

And the goodness of your heart

Be known to others.

May smiles mean

Victories to you,

And may you feel more alive

With each passing day.

May innocence

Surround you,

And all your guilt

Be gone.

May hardships be

Obstacles to you,

And you may achieve

What your heart desires.

And if your actions

Bring peace to another world,

May those actions

Be brought back to you,

In another form.

                                                                                -Mitul Magu

                                                                                4^th December 2015

Mera Naam Joker

I dwell among the familiar ways,

A familiar face as any,

The mango man they often call me,

I am not one but one in many.

In my lair, I am the king,

Yet pushed around by hooligans.

I am simple and full of heart,

Yet lost in my directions.

The world is my work, my work is my art,

My life is built on the reaction I get,

Sad I am about this devilish system,

Where there is no hope I fret.

The ringmaster carries the show along,

With a big fat grin on his face,

Devious he is as he steals all the credit,

And blames me for all the menace.

Somewhere high above the platform,

God watches our show with discontent,

And waves at me to play along,

Not sure as to what it meant.

To the world I am a joker doing his job,

A joker and just a simple joker,

But for me, for me I am nothing,

Nothing but a performer,

A performer who knows how to do his job,

A performer who works and achieves the most,

A performer who is deceived and is left behind,

A performer who stands up and has nothing to boast.

And yet, at the end of the day,

Hinding tears behind paint,

It is I, the common man,

Who is laughed at.

      (c) Mitul Magu
    August, 2012

The Test

Millions and millions of years ago,

The world was at its best.

And ever since we came to know,

We were given a test.

A simple test that demanded peace,

To all of the life around us.

Creations of god, the animals, the trees,

And everything else that surrounds us.

God had given us everything we needed,

Everything we aspired.

But on his test,

We thought we succeeded,

And everything just backfired.

                                                                 (c) Mitul Magu

                                                                 24^th July, 2011

Unheard Whispers

Hear them, feel them, taking their stand,

Tumbling down as they fall.

Fear them, when they, leave this land,

No one heard their last call.

Mankind rose, utter destruction,

Others shan’t survive.

This world, its balance, would all malfunction,

Destruction would overdrive.

No one ever heard their say,

No one ever heard their cry.

But we will go on on our ways,

Ignorant, left to die.

Their talks are full of meaningful things,

Some life in every word.

Not complex, as to what it brings,

Listen to the whispers unheard.

                                                                 (c) Mitul Magu

                                                                 May, 2011

Shadow Men

They sneak up to you and then hide,

You take a look, but no ones behind.

Ruthless, viscous, dirty lot,

Always planning their nasty plot.

You run away, fairly quick and far,

But they always know where you are.

From distorted areas of truth and lies,

From the darkest of shades they arise.

As you move around and the time ticks,

Like gangsters, they continue their dirty tricks.

And all you can do is follow them,

And that’s what they want, those shadow men.

Until you do what they want,

For weeks and months they will haunt.

Leaving you in agony, vain,

Suffering which would forever remain.

Even in this helpless plight,

Shadow men seldom strike,

When they’re too close, too near,

Your heart chokes out of fear.

They call you close with filthy names,

And play their sinister mind games.

And in that game you don’t realize,

How much you’ve been traumatized.

They lurk as shady figures on walls,

As you shout back at their calls.

They fill your life with sorrow when,

You come in the way of the shadow men.

Following them will lead you back,

On that same culpable track.

After being chased for so long,

You’ll need to go back where you went wrong.

Go back to each and every,

Who you have cheated deceitfully.

Who you have mislead for your good,

Go back and do what an honest man would.

Do this before your grave gets filled,

For shadow men are nothing but your own guilt.

Who have pity on no one,

Who will make you pay for the wrongs you’ve done.

Deceptive they are, quite impressive,

All to make you more submissive.

But even when they’re not in view,

From where no one’s looking, they stare at you.

Laugh at every breath you take,

Every smile you fake,

Every mistake you make.

And your chances are very narrow when,

You try to run away, away from them,

Away from the shadow men.

                                                                (c) Mitul Magu

                                                                 February, 2011

Broken Arrows

The battle had ended long before,

Their mighty wrath had shown itself.

For now, the taste of defeat they bore

Had reached a place too far to tell.

How hard had they tried to reach the top,

How far had they gone to shine.

Dangers came and did not stop

There was no holding back this time.

People had warned them and told them not to go,

But the army was entangled in its pride.

And now their fate had regretlessly shown

What it always had in mind.

Evil spun its dreadful webs ,

And had no mercy on their opponents.

With eerie swords and ghastly steps

They trod towards the army like rodents.

The army, iron-hearted, fearless and bold,

Standing tall in their world of lies.

Had walked the fields in the night so cold

Only to be caught up in their own demise.

The night’s mist had given way to the diabolical game,

Where the old oak trees had turned dry.

Even the barren land could not sustain

The horrors it could not have denied.

In the intense battle that came across,

Their pride showed no good.

The army suffered a tragic loss

And evil laughing, triumphantly they stood.

Massacre, evil had left behind,

Perhaps what they had deserved.

Response of the twisted mind

Had already been served.

Evil moved away, out of sight,

Leaving behind excruciating pain.

In that terrible foggy night

Everything was lost nothing to gain.

Alas! Their bodies lay in despair,

Taking in their last few breath.

Dark earth engulfing them, like graves that care

Now victims to the slow, steady death.

Broken arrows lay close to them,

Signifying something they should have known from the start.

Disloyalty, greed and useless bragging,

Like broken arrows, they were torn apart.

For the power is always overwhelming.

                                                                                                                

                                                                                       -Mitul Magu, 2010