Tag Archives: faith

We are all dreaming the Same Fucking Dream

Posted in Poetry English by

Different lives, but the same hunger, the same corruption, and the same ending.

__________________________

We are all dreaming the same fucking dream,

endless desires, with lust as the main theme

Born in the lap of fate, we aim to rise so high,

we laugh at each gain; on each misery we cry

Greed rules our hearts, neither love nor faith,

into the darkness we dwell, like a sniveling wreath

__________________________

We are all dreaming the same fucking dream,

pursuits are the same, different they may seem

Our journeys start with ambition, blood, and sweat,

our baggage is so heavy, all remorse and just regret

Our birth is by chance, but our death is so sure,

we praise the lofty God with hearts so impure

__________________________

We are all dreaming the same fucking dream,

gold, women, and land, we all hail, we all scream

Betrayals are abundant, and loyalty is so very rare,

blindly following the devil without any apparent care

It’s the sin that we seek and the virtue that we reject,

in the end, it’s just guilt; it’s all that we collect

__________________________

We are all dreaming the same fucking dream,

the purpose of life we forget, this we cannot redeem

That we have to hold hands, we have to serve others,

yet we kick the dog, ignoring that we are brothers

That we are all the same spirit, we are all part of God,

the system is all perfect, but the users are all flawed

Love & Betrayal are Two Friends and Lovers

Posted in Poetry English by

This poem dives into the battlefield where trust stands guard and desire becomes the traitor.

Love and betrayal are two friends and two lovers,

they are inseparable friends and diehard lovers

They walk hand in hand, on the path of life,

their shadows becoming one with the passage of time

Fate plays merrily, its shiny golden fife,

while deep lines are etched on faces, still in their prime

Love and betrayal are two friends and two lovers,

strangers to each other, but intimate under covers

They act like true enemies, sworn and so old,

with curved scimitars drawn, ready to draw blood

Love banishes betrayal to hell; it’s a move so bold,

while betrayal hides itself, yellow scorpion in the mud

Love and betrayal are two friends and two lovers,

trust is a formidable wall as betrayal discovers

Betrayal tries to sneak in while looking for a door,

but faith guards all doors; it stands a steady vigil

With each of betrayal’s tries, love becomes a strong boar,

while the trust becomes absolute, being bound by a sigil

Love and betrayal are two friends and two lovers,

distance pulls them closer with no gaps and no buffers

When betrayal seeks an audience, love shuns it away,

though betrayal is insistent, love just stands its ground

But then the light hides in the shadows of a sky so grey,

while hope breathes its last, loudly barks the hellhound

Love and betrayal are two friends and two lovers,

fate has one last plan, which she quickly uncovers

Desire whispers to love, her voice so poisonously sweet,

it makes promises of pleasure, the prospect of deniability

Love finally surrenders to desire and agrees to cheat,

it chooses to embrace betrayal, forgetting all nobility

Love and betrayal are two friends and two lovers,

desire always hides guilt, as in the end, love discovers

But when love pushes betrayal away, it doesn’t let go,

‘Why?’ love asks, while engaged in a deadly struggle

‘Listen!’ betrayal whispers, ‘if you must know’,

‘we are two balls that fate must always juggle’

A Dialogue with the Mirror

Posted in Poetry English by

‘You wretched beast, you pitiful ghoul’ —the cruelest conversations are the ones we have with ourselves.

An intense, confrontational poem structured as a dialogue between the speaker and their mirror reflection, exploring the painful disconnect between outward appearance and inner reality. Through powerful metaphors of shattered mirrors, extinguished suns, and lightning-struck trees, this raw verse examines the masks we wear and the darkness we hide.

You! Yes you – you wretched beast!

perhaps you are me or just another priest

Trying to creep and trying to crawl,

within my sad existence, a great, dark hall

Trying to wear and trying to see,

my skin, through eyes silent as the dead sea

You! Yes you, you pitiful ghoul!

perhaps you are wise or just an old fool

Don’t try to understand my twisted life,

a tree struck by lightning, yet playing the fife 

I stand strong and mighty, towering over all,

strength is what I feign, in the end I will fall  

You! Yes you, you pathetic creature!

perhaps you are true or just a damn preacher

Don’t try to love my tired and broken soul,

I look like a knight and inside, I am just a troll

I am but a mirror, shattered into a million shards,

keeping you all blind, I always hide my cards

You! Yes you, you faded, grey wraith!

perhaps you are ignorant or just acting on faith

Don’t try to be kind, with empathy on a roll,

a sun with extinguished fires, I am a lost soul

My sins were all black, they spoke of my desires,

my regret is now cold, just ashes and burnt pyres

Where is My Home?

Posted in Poetry English by

“A gypsy searching for a forsaken tribe, a vagabond cursed to wander—this is the cry of everyone who’s ever felt they don’t belong.” A haunting, repetitive verse exploring the deep human need for belonging through the metaphor of homelessness—both physical and spiritual. The poem’s refrain “Where is my home and where I am going to sleep?” echoes through various landscapes—deserts, wastelands, bustling towns, and silent valleys—as the narrator confronts regret, shame, desire, guilt, and lost faith.

___________________________________________________

Where is my home, and where am I going to sleep?

What have I sown and how am I going to reap?

Do I find it in the blistering and thirsty wilderness,

me and my regretful tears, in all bitterness?

Or is it in the blindingly white and icy wastelands,

me and my shame, my trembling and shaking hands?

___________________________________________________

Where is my home, and where am I going to sleep?

What have I sown and how am I going to reap?

Do I find it in the bustling and noisy towns,

me and desires, lust, and greed wearing their thorny crowns?

Or is it in the vast and silent valleys,

my faith and I, destined to walk in separate alleys?

___________________________________________________

Where is my home, and where am I going to sleep?

What have I sown and how am I going to reap?

Do I find it near the Tomb of the Lonely Saint,

me and my deceit, friends and partners, yet quaint?

Or is it shrouded within the ashes of a dead volcano,

me and my guilt, my arch nemesis, as we know?

___________________________________________________

Where is my home, and where am I going to sleep?

What have I sown and how am I going to reap?

I am a gypsy in search of my long-forsaken tribe,

without my people, I am dead, as written by the scribe

I am a vagabond at heart, forever lost and eternally cursed,

though in case of self-hatred, I am quite well-versed

The Boat that was Doomed Forever

Posted in Poetry English by

There was once a very small boat;

made of polished, dark mahogany

It had to keep itself forever afloat;

its habits were a strange homogony

The boat being very small and petty;

it didn’t matter in His design at all

But its fate was written in the jetty;

in a few sentences, dark and small

‘You are hereby destined, you old one;

ordained to sail to non-existent shores

No other options or choices are none;

all the other paths end on locked doors’

‘Read these words, for it is your fate;

eternally destined to bet on lost causes

Do take it from me and do take it straight;

there is only anguish and no applauses’

The boat surely didn’t want this fate;

but life was cursed and forever doomed

Distress was certain and was never late;

the horn of frustration forever boomed 

Still, the old boat didn’t lose hope;

and started each journey with faith

Braving the waves, no anchor or rope;

a lonesome ghost, a silent wraith

There were storms and hard rain;

the boat did not care and moved on

There was damage and even pain;

the boat always waited for the dawn

Sometimes it saw lights and visions;

smiling with hope, it rowed on

But those were all bitter delusions;

the visions, what its fancy had drawn

Sometimes, it heard joyous laughter;

with a hopeful heart, it shouted ‘ahoy!’

Trying to chase the voices, it went after;

but found only silence, no mirth, no joy

Well, that was the life of this poor boat;

the lonely boat that was doomed forever

This was all - the life of this boat;

all the same were the days, whatsoever

The boat is tired, its wood has all but rotten;

there are several leaks, it’s  bound to sink

The dreams of glory, all forgotten;

the end is near, it has reached the brink

But the boat rows on, for it has a purpose;

it’s destined to live on, it’s meant to serve

The heart is tired, exhausting is the circus;

no time to lay anchor, no sense to lose nerve