Forever in Denial

You may live forever in your denial.
But it doesn’t mean they don’t exist.
The truth may play games for a while.
But in the end what you resist will persist.

Entities are everywhere, visible or not.
Psychics see them in broad daylight.
Demons appear for reasons whatnot –
violence, drugs, or a gloomy sight.

I don’t know much about demons.
But I know their intentions aren’t kind.
They feed emotionally on us humans.
If you live in denial, you must be blind.


A Ticket For Two

This is where I must bid yesterday good bye.
I must leave her at this platform with a heavy sigh.
This is my train and I’m going somewhere away.
Perhaps you and I shall finally meet someday.

Truth be told, I’ve really grown very old.
I bought all the lies which I to myself told.
But I’m going away to where I came from.
Bid Kansas good bye, Dorothy, this is a storm.

Let’s go back to where I once lost the munchkin I was.
Growing up never served any righteous cause.
This train will take me away from the poppy fields.
Tell the Wizard I return to claim the wand he wields.

When there is magic I ain’t ever bored.
And I need no yellow brick road.
Lions, tigers and bears may frolic.
My train shall carry me like a workaholic.

When my journey ends, I’ll call out to you.
You and I shall shall buy a ticket for two. 11 PM IST, December 23, Friday, 2016

A Chief Editor of

Have you seen my Key – 2

Once again I cuffed my hand
hoping that I’d never sin.
At crossroads, today I stand.
Only I know where I’ve been.

I made my rules and broke them too.
I wanted discipline to set me free.
Now I’m not sure what exactly is true.
Please tell me if you’ve seen my key.

A thousand beggars have passed by.
I told them that I wasn’t better off.
Neither sin nor cuff; neither truth nor lie
will convince the ones who scoff.

My mom asked me to search myself.
I searched, yet no key was found.
I searched religious books in my shelf
but they were just too profound.

Why on earth did I cuff myself again?
My arms are covered with cigarette burns.
I’m no more disciplined then back then.
And now the wheel of Karma turns.

My boss said I need to get a life.
He asked me to find another locksmith.
The locksmith said that no fork nor knife
can pick such a self-imposed lock herewith.

The Temple advises me to chant;
and the church, to answer the altar call.
There is just no point now if I rant.
Will God catch me whenever I fall?

My hands are tied and yet I sin.
My chances of salvation grow thin.
I’m neither self-restrained nor free.
Please let me know if you’ve seen my key.

A Chief Editor of

No Time For Poetry

No time for elegant poetry.
Precious Time is running out.
Justice, this cannot be.
Suffering! You have us rout.

Lord please tell me why.
No, I demand to know.
On his death bed he lay,
longing to go.

A man CHOOSES death.
How much you punish him!
If you CANNOT save him
then put to ease his misery.

But if you dare quote his sin,
then my poem shall burn you within.

Chief Editor at

I Won’t Recite An Eulogy

I won’t recite an eulogy.
I won’t sing a dirge.
For I’d owe you an apology
for this persistent urge.

My dear, you are not gone.
You are merely free.
You’ve probably moved on
from this realm of misery.

I’m still right here, thinking of you.
No matter where they say you are.
And it doesn’t matter what I do.
The truth, my dear, is you aren’t far.

I miss you, and hence I weep.
But Memories, my heart shall keep.

—Pramodh Iyer,

My Hero

You were my hero!
Why’d you have to go?
Now that you’re gone
I must now move on.

When you were with me
your value I failed to see.
Value what’s in store
before it’s with you no more.

You’re now in a happier place
with a smile upon your face.
I’d like you to always know
that you’re forever my hero!

Chief Editor of

Pandora’s Boxes

As I return to where I was before
Karma awaits me by the shore.
Only I know where I’ve been.
Now I must account for every sin.

In this dark chamber I smoke away
sulking about life, night and day.
I serve no purpose here, or so I fear.
I now let go of all whom I hold dear.

All those who sacrificed their lives,
because I stabbed them with all my knives,
chose to be still with me, in my heart
as yet another toxic day I now start.

I compose this not because I quit,
but my restless mind paces as I sit.
I’ve opened Pandora’s boxes once again.
I’m no more sane than I was back then.

The Devil calls out to me all the time.
I can’t complain about him in this rhyme.
If Karma wants her pound of flesh
then my soul she’ll have to thresh.

I search for peace, and I cannot cease.
There are souls I ought to put to ease.
If my Savior can read this poem now.
Can He save me again today somehow?

My sin is heavy, there’s a price to pay.
I’m going to Hel no matter what I do or say.

No matter what I do or say.

Chief Editor of