The Silent Voices Poem by Bigyan Mainali

Staring at the street of mid-night moonlight
Of the new moon so dark and so calm,
Like the frost in the mid-winter cluster morning,
Dazzling and crackling with the triumph of victory,
In the eyes of poor and pitiless people,
Running in the street,
Like the madman, to his mind
Like the circle, to its beginning,
Shadow cast with the fake light,
So dimmed, doomed with the ideas,
You, me and us to be,
The machinery builds in the veins,
With the fluid of lust,
The nasty mind games,
Gambling of charm and glows of day,
Bubbling in the cart of the desert, so furious it was.

Thundering with the wars,
Between the gods, you believe and I believe.
The faithful warriors running for salvation,
With the blood in the hands of holy man,
And give the magic potion to hope,
Life seems to endless, like after the life as a ghost,
The urge of a dream to be free,
At last for the new day to the void,
The jazz and blues of the morning dew's lust,
To taste the food called love,
Turns as the tree of life,
The hallelujah kind of dream sleeps away.

The kiss, I give to love
Lose the meaning of lust,
The life has been like the fireflies,
Running for light to see itself inside,
But blinded by its dream,
Turns to mad and insane,
But true to it kind,
The whole set of like a carnival of lust.

The crisis in mid-earth begins
As the Gollum gets the ring,
Drive to crazy life freedom,
From bombing and firing,
By the cruel monster sleeping in the sky,
In the bed of meaningless urge of freedom,
But doomed to be a slave,
Of priest, politician, love for possession,
The plan is correct to rule.

The heaven feels after marijuana,
So clear, so true, so jazzing,
With the state of no mind,
No suffering from the barriers,
The soul catches its pace,
To rush toward its destiny,
To find the freedom, the absolute freedom,
But life keeps on thinking,
To live, to feel, to sense,
The true self we truly possess.

The mind narrating E=mc^2,
In the face of a physics teacher,
Possess the meaning of true intelligence,
It states, that states, as stated,
Running in the nerves of the brain,
Like the blood in the veins,
So furiously, so fizzling,
As the time comes to the end,
At the mid-night of scary nightmares,
About the returning to the before life,
So hoping for an afterlife,
Kills the life in searching for owns meaning,
To be or not to be,
The question lies in every mind.

The dancing of cosmos laughing,
At our stage of performance,
So vague, so immature, so unnatural,
Looks like the ugly slum of dirty pigs farm,
So enchanting, so enhancing, so truly,
Narrates,
The verse of mercy and eyes of kindness,
To end their misery in the darkness beneath the sun,
But life goes on.

The plan and plot to the power,
The completion of life prophecy,
Madly and insanely picks the head of ants,
Walking in the street,
To buy their thing, with their money,
Thinking and living,
Living and thinking,
But the closed chapter never begins.

The words of empathy, sympathy,
Condemned and narrated,
Through the voices of a lost soul,
Eyes of aloofness looking through the corner,
To blame, to claim,
You as the murder of belief and faith,

The vibration of your heart,
Keeps on yearning the voices,
For your life, the awful trace of madness,
So confusing, so nasty, so horrible
That the night comes after days of trouble,

The muzzling and fuzzing of the smoke,
From the lungs of the youngster,
To relief from the frustration, depression,
Lying dead in the bed of dream,
The feet prepared for the crowd,
Trembling in one's way,
Laughing hearing from the crowd,
Panics the heart,
So desperately,
As it seems the end is near,
With the fears in mind,
About sane or insane,
At the middle of age,
To turn the life as self,
Just get burnt with the flame of outrageous,
Cry of majorities,
Staring at the face of hidden nature,
So deeply, so senselessly, so gloomily,
But the life goes on.

The city burnt with the fire of cries,
The clashes of the clan, with the theory of god,
Boils the blood of innocent,
With the outburst of anger,
To hide the face of humanity,
Just, to bring one head to judge the nature.

Hungry faces turn for sympathy,
But vain has ruled the mind,
Desperately moving toward vanity,
But faith remains silent,
To torment the life, to torture the silence,
The tears run to oceans and back as rain.
As accepted and believed

The guts hide the dirt.
The mouth hides the reality.
But holes show the way,
And so do eyes.

Silent war within creates the chaos,
At the amplitude of noise,
So patternless, yet we bear,
So symphony-less, yet we listen,
So faithless, yet we believe,
But the vow in every step keeps us alive.

Sitting in the middle of chaos,
Gathering the useless values and norms,
Pivoted with the madman in power,
The completion of lust never will be cleared,
But dear, life goes on and on.

The sound of hip-hop, raps and beats,
Dances with the words of frustration,
Rotating in the midst of black-buck,
Revolving around the shadow of lust and dust,
Oh! The life just gets him on the journey to vanity.

The tormenting and torturing dream,
Always keep him awake during the day,
Full of consciousness but thirst-less,
To strive, to gather the voices hidden deep inside,
What is life itself creates the question,
So tensed and so displeasure,
The ultimate existential crisis within themselves,
The way is gone dear, far gone.

The luminous street light,
The son of the sun,
Cast shadow on the wall of big cement trees,
Standing on the edge of the world,
So big, so gigantically, so mockingly,
Describes,
The life on earth,
The breathing we took in,
Racketing the peace in a soul,
Desperately the cult of life appears.

The sexy underwear hiding the natural bliss,
Impulsively, gives the reason for rape,
The crying and tearing the woman's life,
Dragging toward hell, that never existed,
These blasts of pain tear the part of life.
But life always goes on and on.

The howl and growl of the young mind
Leaning and lingering
Splitting and doubting
Terrorizing and horrified
Tendering and crying
Sorrow to the end of new life,
Wished to be started at the dawn of every morning,

This is my age, where words are trapped below.
This is my age, where arts lust for comfort pillow.
This is my age, where human poisoned by knowing-ness.
This is my age, where all feared with the passing of time.
Tick tock tick tock.
In the wall of the big compartment, giving the illusion of flow-less flow
This is my age, where life is suffocated with the visionary of virtual reality.
This is my age, where I am mad and everyone is sane.
But life goes on.