Lexicon

[Image source:  AI-generated with DALL·E] Some of the most remarkable experiences in life aren't necessarily 'fun'. They're deep as poetry, moving as the ocean waves and layered with intermixing emotions.  With this piece I wanted to highlight how joy shouldn't be compulsive, or how 'fun' isn't 'fun' if fun needs to be chased. ~~~ You must assemble near the Ferris wheel,  and we’ll play a game of deception We’ll sprint after ‘fun’ on broken glass, and catch only its reflection We must ride the Ferris wheel at sunset, and we’ll smile no matter how tired we’ve been We’ll smile for the strangers, the cameras, the aesthetic, we’ll smile because our ‘fun’ needs to be seen Dizzy as we may be, we’ll keep the wheel turning, unease building as we reach the top But if the social script demands we ride, What’s a little nausea to make us stop? We’ll ascend with rehearsed glee, screams buckled in for more Convinced the view will be different, though we’ve see...

There's something poetic  about leaving the endings unsaid Guessing countless open leads where the ellipses could've led There's something almost euphoric about the anticipation after beat drop but to live for the hope of it you need to read beyond full stop  There's something rather terrifying  about leaving the ellipses so vague it almost passes for a new beginning  to any interpretation you make  There's something so relatable about afterlife thoughts that it makes me wonder as I look at my grave if death also precedes three dots... *** In storytelling, ambiguous endings by ellipsis have an irreplaceable charm of their own. They come with equal parts of fear and thrill for what's to come. Moreover, they give us something to look forward to.  The kind of anticipation a full stop or resolved ending can never meet. They also leave interpretation up to the reader, thereby giving room for their own perspectives.  "Three Dots After Death" is a hypothetica...

  I was determined to paint my fate it had been looking monochromatic as of late that cold night, I coloured my world warm the first rays of dawn patiently waited to inform that everything I painted white, to my dismay was nothing if not a long stretch of grey I grabbed my brush once again  in that summer air, I coloured my world blue and ran out of all my shades when it came to capturing sun’s golden hue My world felt dark and dull I was questioning my art when the rain showered upon my world giving me a fresh, colourful start the spaces I’d filled with black, to my utter surprise lay between the greys, where utmost truth lies Tempered with the rain was sweet sunshine making a half circle pathway for colours to rome the shades poured over like streams to the river and decided to call my eyes their home I started seeing colours  and shades entirely new realizing there's a colour palette designed for my mind too  I'm not the writer of my destiny  but I don't need...

  Oh hush, don’t read this aloud, it’s a story no one knows She was covering her tan with long sleeves, when he held out a black rose Oh pain, how it shot under her skin, like icicles her broken heart froze Her frail body shivered as she wondered, “was all I deserved a black rose?” She wondered if it’d be any different, if she changed the colour of her hair Would she still get a black rose, if she were a tad bit more fair? Her insecurities convinced her, the flower was some sick joke She should’ve seen the boy’s eyes, at length his nervousness spoke Oh pain, how it shot under his skin, as embarrassment clouded her mind  She walked away, repulsed, totally missing he was colourblind  He knew she loved dark red, the florist heard him wrong   But nothing he could’ve said, would change this sad song For it was never about colour,  neither of her skin nor flower It was her blindness that ruined their ‘could’ve-been’, to the essence of his gestures, that she’d never s...

When I cried over actors playing dead, my granny truthfully said, “Don’t believe what you see or hear, frankly it’s just a pretense, dear” When I hurt myself in a playful fight, my granny said, hugging me tight, “Don’t grieve, why must you waste a tear, it’s really just a pretense, dear” When I felt betrayed in a game of cards, my granny was the one to offer her regards, “Don’t you worry, this isn’t severe, after all it’s just a pretense, dear” I understood my granny well, she made her point pretty clear but I’m beginning to read beyond it, as my adulthood is near Despite how different my granny made it appear, I wonder if she truly meant-  “ Life is just a pretense, dear”

 Generation gap is never painful without communication gap Back when I was twenty-three young, naive, happy, carefree I fantasized once having two cute sons I hoped- to be a good parent; to know the reasons for their choice; to run a mile in their shoes, before ever raising my voice To feel the shoe bites they had before I acted To understand their sides before I reacted Alas, no matter how much I tried no matter how many times I wore Those shoes of a kid now fit me no more As I neared my forties I couldn’t relate to the kids’ part the pieces never fit instead kept falling apart I saw our bond burn down in flames as generation gap grew from its smoke trying to be in their shoes soon just felt like a joke Until one day when they cried with aching pain, I recall they said “Mom, you never even tried! look where your parenting led” It was then that reality hit me hard generation gap was just an excuse communication gap was the main reason that made me outgrow their shoes

"What is it like to alternate between masks between every personality ever known each, but your very own?" The actor smirked, pity evident in his eyes said he to me "At least I am well aware  Of how what I wear are only mere masks that can be removed after all my tasks Or how I can play several roles How I get to choose What could be those At least I'm not Stuck with the thought Of "What have I become?" Or "Who am I?"  For if I so desire the mask's gone, in the wink of an eye..."

  Untold A raindrop once said,  while sharing his pain  "I have been through much more  than just going down the drain  I have been wasted, I have been saved I have been soaked, I will be again Though I've seen so much  The thing that left a scar was watching a cloud suffer by each drop forced in, so far but it didn't complain, it didn't cry patiently waited to silently die-" he stopped midsentence as his voice just died  After which teardrop cried, "I get where you come from these struggles are no joke though we seem to be mere drops, we're proof of lost hope"  Raindrop nodded in pain then stood completely still as he noticed blood drop's 'sigh's and the tragedy hidden beneath his  eyes just the extent of what they had to hold  convinced him people have stories far worse  and untold...

He stood behind the threshold  between his new life and old Old, was bit dull but just fine and new, was all bright sunshine  He paused midway, conflicted and sad for leaving behind every experience he had  every thought which in his mind once crossed would now just become a lesson lost God read his mind, understood his concern and blessed the man with a bag for every lesson he had to learn The man was elated, he finished packing his experience  but as he moved towards the door he started missing convenience So he stuffed in his bag  his entire comfort zone  then left for the door but saw his habits sitting alone Unable to resist he packed them too and took his step towards everything new With h is bag on his back, the weight was weighing him down as before his new life had a chance to unfold he collapsed by the weight without ever reaching the threshold...

 

   

  He hated flowers... I once met a guy who looked older than his age whose behavior was weird and opinions beyond strange He received flowers daily bouquets of beautiful Jasmine, Rose, Lily but trashed all instead "I hate flowers" he often said I wondered where that came from and asked him too he said "The answer's too deep, too dark for you" When my curiosity would reach its peak I would force him to finally speak "I've just spent too long 'round flowers" I'd wonder then, just how many hours? Just how long would that take you To wish flowers were out of your view? "So you live in a garden!" I exclaimed with surprise Just when a sad smile reached his eyes "Never grow up" he whispered and went After years I now know just what he meant As I receive bouquets from fakers and more from those I barely knew I wish I could go back in the past and forget flowers lie in cemeteries too  -Palavi Karnik

  Floating came to me naturally  I'd even swim occasionally  'cross the ocean ahead of me No matter how endless  it seemed to be The sunny air, the tides were bliss  Now it's all a part  Of what I miss Though the air's nearly the same But not quite It's all darkness I see Even though there's light Now, there are people to watch  And more to judge many to pass harsh comments  Like they hold some grudge  "We just want  to see you afloat!"  Oh, how easily  the words escape their throat  When if anything,  it's a mere lie As they provoke me to drown And watch me die

    Wish I could cart you to the past showing what you've missed,  Things that did not last I bet there'd be a list of wildlife that you've never seen How the forest was  Before in the world you've been  Oh such a pitiful thing to know and tell A cub like you has known no den  Your habitat's snatched, your rights are too I'm sorry darling, I couldn't give those to you  But though I'm old and my power's all gone I can give this in my last few breaths  it isn't much dear, just some advice to pass on don't let yourself obsess over grass  start admiring the glass 'cause those cages you know, will be your new home and in a month or two you'll be in the vulnerable few Know this though, you'll be just fine  you'll adapt well with it over time I know you'll live well by yourself But this lioness, will never forgive herself  For she's the mother who never could show you the trees,  The rivers, the forest, the moon and the breez...

Broken gem(s) She was walking by the street cold and pale she needed a woolen sheet to keep away the hail.   She’d been then six a poor, helpless orphan. Her shiver in the cold wasn’t rare, it was now seen quite often.   All that she had, was a little red gem inherited from her Dad, it said "with love, for my lad"   Like his presence in his absence, she always found him in the gem. The emptiness it would cover, That's how the loneliness was over.   That day felt, to be exceptionally cold her body felt numb, she lost her grip. The gem would break apart  and a beat was skipped by her heart.   The man who stood across the lane, also startled by the sound and that’s when a look at the pieces could tell him that they could earn him, a considerably good sum. To ashes the human inside him would burn. Since, he decided to do that for the money to steal a gem, gifted by a father to his honey.   Her sensitive hands joined to plead to get hers back...stolen by t...