Eaten up by Anger

When you drink from a pot of anger

You swallow hot water of danger
Even the fire that kissed
The bottoms of the pot,
Burns with pity
All springs of gentility are missed
For anger hits the exact spot
That goes against your wit
when the clouds of anger
Descend upon you.
You loose your mind.
Things that sting deep
You say in haste.
Your actions shame your consciousness.
The poison spread in the mind.
Leaves behind trails of destruction
Senses stolen
Raising expenses.
In the darkness
Hatred is all it expresses.

Anger looks like an empty bottle of liquor.
It resembles already used chaffs of millet
It smells like diluted kerosene.
It is a decidicious man

Seeing sun. . .

As the sun creeps over the hill,
Over buildings gazing in a maze
Carrying with her a basket
Of solitude
Yet amidst is multitude of faces.
Amidst is an unhappy darkness

Crimson rays of solitude scattered by bird songs.
Golden as they highlight the leaves
Trees shake, some quake and rustle with the evening breeze
Clouds lesser white than cotton make skips across and on the sky
Each and every new dusk is quite exceptional when nature wakes and speaks.