Ishan Chaitanya

Beauty’s a prison when love is gone
No matter which way you turn
Forget the freedom you once won
...

Can I ask Heaven to be nicer to me
When friends like these are in my life?
Why, such nicety could never truly be
Among the facts in a world of strife.
...

Alternate figures squirming down Rejection Alley
Thought I saw me there but I only saw my future
Is this the youth I've been looking for?
Driven mad straight into the hands of vultures,
...

Sweet child of today, man of tomorrow,
If you see confusion, if you see sorrow,
If you see delusion and if you see terror,
Please try to understand the human error.
...

under urban stress
we wear strange feathers
and by those feathers
we flock together
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What am I to you great city?
What new concoctions
In your boiling bloodstream
Take me to new highlights
...

I keep a little box that I sometimes open
To unleash a tiny man of words
Greater than himself, yet quite often
Sharp-talked like a clash of swords.
...

Sometimes I wish myself away;
I could say that to you in simple words
But instead I decided to play the poet
'Cause poets, they - like me - get
...

America mourned in unison,
In unison sought relief,
In the anthems it took courage,
And the strength to rise from grief,
...

I refuse to stand alone in the wind
Now that I know about you.
Ages have seen me standing here
And I have seen them dissapear,
...

Sidetracked in ancient drawers of my ancestors,
Seduced by the same alluring promises,
Like a sardine in the ocean to draw my hope from multitude
Is to be expected from an outcast in this wilderness.
...

Nothing lingers in this world,
Nothing stands the ever changing,
Nothing stills the cold, quiet motion
Of Time.
...

On this side of the line
Everything seems to be fine.
I trust noone who dares to cross.
The means I might resort to
...

As I look out my window
I see a familiar landscape
That has been my waking view
Every morning of these twenty years.
...

(Written long before most of my other poems posted on Poemhunter)

1. The Question
...

This time I really
have to write something.
It's been so long
and I need a break
...

Speak to me
in the language of the few,
tell me 'bout
things I thought I knew.
...

paint.
paint me as a waterfall,
feel me under your skin,
like a strange disease
...

Still life in its perfection
draws deep sighs from my chest:
a frozen mentality
of time-beaten people.
...

On Monday
You leave home in hungover stupor
With remnants of the past weekend
Humming wildly in your head
...