Thabaan Kabin

Immortal Revolution Another government to another system Another ethnic-boy, set-ready charge Another battleground to another war Another protest to another march March with me, march with me who cares if they're shooting We got to keep on moving Like Gandhi, we're a freedom fighter  We was trying to very patient, we got variation  So now we're going to fuck with you And soon you'll see The evolution of a revolution. LooK! This 21 century, immortal revolution. Where nobody cares whether you live or die. Another law to another innocent blood Another woman to another crime Another student to another man in charge Another year to another violence Another gun fest, drop another bomb Another army man to another monster Another white collar criminal at large Human rights violation, we continue the saga. You murdered and stole his religion Your man rape and send your man to justice You speak equality and forget t

                               Image source: pinterest What peaceful hours I once enjoyed How sweet their memory still, When I was with  you But they have escaped in tear; And carry the sunshine where darkness is rife Which the world can never fill. While I love someone it goes away; Like a free flow river whither the end? I'm drowning with my own thoughts I'm tired of doubting myself whether you are coming back. Finding the other way in some corner of me Just to hold your hand. Wanted so much to speak to you, But it killing me with your absence and silent. I smiled through the tears and pain; Just to see your sweet face Hidden the tear has fallen, Saying great when am nothing yet, Even harder for selling with hurt, More difficult to have or let go. How old shall one like dying life be? All lose and nothing left to gain Emptiness had booked the room. Tired with all these, Save that to leave my age of beauty pain Fro

Snake Bite Human, Who Killed The snake? Picture credit: https://www.image search.com  If you asked yourself quietly in refection A minute ticked by "You" "Me" 'Yes. You, but not you.' So now you are asking who killed the man? We all know human evolution is about the origin of human beings and some believed according to scientific knowledge man transformed from animal. It was known for centuries that man and the Apes were related. At heart, their anatomy is similarly by research.   However, the first book of Mosses, called Genesis. In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth. With non-living beings and living beings. Finally, HE created man in his own image Male and Female. Now, we are floundering in belief of both like great waves in an ocean in correctable responded. Some said the book of Genesis is truth likewise other said a man is an origin of Apes. To addressed this question was a man are real human or

                                  Image credit: www. Iman.com I died again last night. Faded like echo, of a desperate fall, finally escaping the high canyon walls. Cooled like love's warmth, Iced by infidelity, Now, gravel cold. Drained like the blood feeling the fingers of an unclenching fist. I died again last night. Shredded like betrayed by an ugly truth. Toppled like the towers where concrete and steel Gave way to blue and plumes of dust and flesh. Evaporated like the last drop of the last rain before the longest drought of reason. I died again last night when the pretenders Turned away From the acceptable losses, Collateral damage. when they turned back Raised their fists Beat their chests, wives and logic Like the droning drums of war. I died again last night To holster the rage reaction, To break the hypocristy of impending expected redundancy, To finally father all the wasted seeds, To reclaim that sense of ownership sto

         Image source by www. Imagesearch.com Held in the grip by used cellophane,......sing it's coat burning reflections, behind eyelid stuck shut. The avenue where trees drink in black bile, rich----with dwarf willow who throws her embrace around the dense strands of old man's beard covered with thick yellow lichen. It hangs free like morbid hammocks whose anchors has rotted away. Languid oxalic acid talc, pits holes in this heavy-metal collar around her neck chains dangle like galling wind chimes she can't stand The sound picked up, by straying wingless feathers one more day, at the bottom of a bird cage. Its doors left open, bars bent into familiar shapes of escape yet nightengale sits perched, on her thorny branch. Pale wind blows the cage, onto damp concreate, shaded in picture seque fairness Black moldy images keep her occupied-------immovable within the void she loves.

Highway to soul demolition  On long lost roads/ Sun will shine upon the heart of burning lives of ice. Wind through the highway, Endless far distance away from home. You can't see a waste history OF suffocating madness. In the land of long forever highway Of fallen soul. _bryam

Hiding the sore eyes  and blaming the chilli, opening the jars and sneezing into them, counting hours and losing hair, swelling chests and shrinking inside, looking after and then looking away, choosing pink and feeling blue. So much to justify the three letters, when they only needed to walk beside and not ahead of anyone. |MEN WILL BE MEN| by Aparna

[click or tap on the image you want to view or download]  Peace & smiley face (draw) Art is a means of expressing things. Art styling is the complex labor that people in a natural way. It is special skill that needs long-term training to form. However, with one imaginative pursuit, it's easy to run out of mind! ( A girl holding red wine glass) About Sketcher: Rashmani Hemam is an aspirant artist, uses to create her drawings are colour, pen and graphite pencil and then goes over them with tenderness and unique designs and quality picture as that is her pride and joy. She likes to draw people, the human figure, traditional medium and people going their daily lives. Her sketches have a rough, edgy design that we love, she puts a lot of effort and self taught into her drawings. What we love: The use of simple drawing tools created a very distinct style. Rashmani hemam  drawing is very interesting and she clearly has wide range of artistic talents

Image credit: pinterest My mother told me  That I was almost aborted. Her living situation when She had me was painful, But by then, it was too late. I am a product  of rejection  And bad timing. I'm trying to write myself  Towards a day  when I feel I deserve  to be alive  By choice,  Not chance. ******* About the author: Yashodhaan burage is an upcoming writer, a blogger and legal educator. At present, practicing as a lawyer in Bangalore High court. If you are looking for space to publish your literary work(s) kindly send your writing(s) to  bariambredeemson700@gmail.com

Thabaan Kabin : Grief |Poem| : Grief /Poem Image credit: https//www. image search.com This is how I have dealt  With grief most of my life  sharing it on pap...

Image credit: WWW.imagesearch20maii.com Love her like you would love a god; They tell me, But I have no patience  For a god who Does not talk back, And  Again, Unrequited love  Reminds me of my childhood; Embarrassing, Like a love letter Caught mid-air By the classroom teacher. Every time I love, It falls Into the wrong hands. If you are looking for space to express your views and share your poems are most welcome, comment below or write at bariambredeemson700@gmail.com

image source: www.manseacrh.com2019 I do not want to know, About the children, the women, or the animals. I do not want to know, If she or he or it or they were asking for it. I do not want to know, If they are dead, alive or dying. I do not want to know, Which race, religion, class or caste they're from. I want to shut my ears and make no sound, Bow my head and walk around. Because if I know, I will shatter, Shrink, dissolve, wither into nothingness. If I know, I cannot function, If I know, I'd want to un-know. -bryam If you have anything to share, comment below or write at  bariambredeemson700@gmail.com #Visit full profile by clicking the home button to know tittle more about the author.

Image credit:WWW.imagesearch105man.com. Thousand of faces with countless emotions Slower breaths: Faster gulps: Shallow eyes. The weight of emotions is heaviest at dark, The heaviness with absolute soberness. One two three four five... I count the steps and  mom didst the walk of life at the 20th. What separates us is a mere distance of 100 yards And layers of security Yet I don't feel as safe as in her arms. When dad in wishes of asking Perhaps, we travel a mile in evacuated safety Layers of silences There's fountain in valley of unsaid things, An ocean in our eyes swim the downcast. When I dusted my bookshelf Pages of nostalgia turned in my head. When I go out in the evening  I see places and I miss people  Layers of memories pile over me. Whoever I love Whomever I want always to be beside me Either I have to leave them or  They have left  Amidst a pool of people Layers of emptiness  has crawled in. Sep

Image source:https//www. Image58.com You and I  we never brunt bridges just walked different paths  and even in our separation we locked hands  smiled through the tears and you still remain the gray of my hand the weight above my eyes the shallow of my breath tucked away safely  in some corner of me so much so, I now have two hearts and so some days I find the other beating again and in some ways it's my only  safe passage  to you. If you have anything to share, comment below or write at  bariambredeemson700@gmail.com #Visit full profile by clicking the home button to know little more about the author.

Picture source:www.IndiaToday.com Many gorgeous solid surface hath passed by; Where all the graceful flowers are blowing, Where all the wings are glorifying the skies, where all the dragon-flies are hopping with the river, When all the lands are praying for him. The season had succeeded to change I can't put the picture of what's that..? I'm speechless as a stone. As I filled the foreign land, I see the film was forming into night and thundering; Clothes were torn as dirty As I stood there by the bed; Under the foreign skies In winter hail and summer tempest. Besides this country; Sing thy ole school sweet. O, I remember thy mother repast luscious; The smile of dear on thy eyes The gentle cry of boys on my thine ears The memories of the thy brothers and sisters are precious; Yet unduty for my homeland, We put on hold, your dream-your-lives. Thou left thy mothers and thy fathers Thee left behind thy brothers and

REALITY Image credit: https//.image_searchman.1559.com When reality hits that makes widow eye weep. All she do is face away and cry, Can't stand nor rise, just deep sad inside, Hear not seem be better by morning. So is reality still longer what is hurt. Nobody sees what's actually wrong, Girls at middle school and all this pressure, Getting abused and being called a mong, Have put on black and loving mourners Looking with pretty ruth upon your pain. All the sweet tones she listens Forthwith deep into a tear. That on herself such murderous pain commits. The world will be her window, and still weep Then will swear beauty herself is black. You have seen roses damask'd, white and red The mistress reality are nothing like the sun.  And were once kind unfriends now, Even, commits herself who have lived for crime, Or have not seen dwellers on form and favour Lose all, and more by paying too much pains Friends are leaving and moving

THE CAVEMAN (I) Image credit: Isaac Nka A legend's caveman singed Inpui's W'all; Echo of Ramting Kabin the alpha. We laud thee hovah; for thy ward he'd Kovah!! Thou ought endured that Inpui Ho-Ho-Ho-, they left nothing yet Thy tribe thy Inpuirwan at thy worth to called. Well save!! Your glorious realm in days of yore; Have baset onto second and tomorrow. Seven ol seven thousand of beloved brothers, Hath excuse of mother nest and fly off; Lyke birds in daily breaths are your blood, Hath marry in Low and High by hilltop. wherein many tribes scattered of Big House; Tried to build such told free air? Or call it winter, which, being full of care, Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish's, more rare. 'Lo! all those trophies of   "Kapo Inkhaan." Out, very out, at the end of a cavern, So spring, Khumba beneath the blue sky, passed! Folk out, Bariam lyke a babe roam  In the pacific bed; Late