Beautiful illusions

Beautiful illusions

Everything is a lie,
What I see as reality
is just my side of story
A pretty point of view
Live it, believe it,
illusion is beautiful.

© VishalDutia

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Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Writing for me isn’t easy
Unwriting, much harder
So I do
Until I get enough

With all blissful vibes
Symphony of grace
Overwhelm spirit
Grounding reality
And a magic of its own

Out of sight
Let me take you on a journey
Reconnecting all the senses
Returning back to sanity
And spontaneity
Apprehending the whole
And meet you in the another realm

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It Tolls for Thee

It Tolls for Thee

Not to string you along, my dear

but we cannot simply cut ties with the past

even the inconsequential have its consequences

You might outlive regret, but that doesn’t mean all is forgiven.

© VishalDutia

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Reality Check

Reality Check

Walking along such a glitchy path
Fading away an unrecorded memory
Minding your steps in a dance of math
Just blinking thrice
Puts an end to discovery

Rising the stakes, calling the void
toward a rushing horizon
Losing control of a stolen asteroid
Truth is as pure as meaningless
An opinion is romanticized delusion

Finding the way among fragments
Of life simultaneously lost
In time the Dreams will start again
In shared and obvious confusion
And universal vanity

Echoes of faith in the darkness
Splatter meaning on innocent nothings
Let’s pray there isn’t more to guess
Real is real but what else is
Wait what was the question already ?

© VishalDutia

H u s h

H u s h

Death whispers your name..

s o f t l y

Across the valley of youth.

Grim truth, unseen realities, strange longing disguised

The Herald of betrayal spill down your blood…

A b r u p t l y

Your screams travel nowhere in the hearse

you’ll never see my flooding tears

Time tickle to gather all those faces

They’re drifting in the ancient remanant

along with your palsied testimony

H u s h

The pain you get is ‘not’ the pain you owe.

//What’s real anymore ?//




Dreams are what we make
From ideas, wants and desires
From our minds and spirits
We can take them into reality
At anytime
It just requires will, persistence
And faith
If you believe
Especially in yourself
You can do anything
At anytime, anywhere
Dream big
Watch it grow
Into your reality
We are each an artist
Creating our own worlds
Believe and dream


(Scheduled Post

I miss you

I miss you

When I sit and think about you,
I have to face the harsh reality
that I’m grieving a person that doesn’t exist anymore…
This version of you isn’t in love with me.
You probably don’t think about me as much as I do of you.
I wonder if you ever sit and fantasize of what could be or if you’ve forgotten all about me.

I hope somewhere deep down you wish that your “one” could of been me, because god do I wish mine was you.

~ I hope you miss me too.


Broken Heart #Poetry

Broken Heart #Poetry

So strange
before i was meant to be your life partner
and now you flip the emotions
and I existed only in your poems
like some content to experment
with metaphors and emotions.

– VishalDutia

Reality is not real

Reality is not real

The inspiration dies
All the time in the world
Is never enough
The food loses its spice,
the river floods
the fire burns
the dust settles,
the smoke fills the air
Thunder glitters the sky,
the land slides.
A small child cries
The sun sets
The gloom steps in
An adult hides,
the sourness stays
The prices rises
market falls
debts increases,
Diseases spread around
World is falling apart.
Everyone is going back
It is true but not.
Nothing really exists
Illusions dive in.

Word Power #Poetry

Word Power #Poetry

Writing is liberating.
Each word part of my heartbeat.

It makes time stops.
And then, one must regroup
to get back to life’s reality.

Scribing puts writer into a vortex
that carries one
into new visions, divinely.
It’s window that when read
can provide views of understanding.

Writing is a companion
who allows you to
speak freely anytime.
It’s a voice buried in words
that gets ignited as one connects.

Scribing are words that hug
in middle of night,
when one can’t sleep.
It’s fuel that drives thoughts
with no red lights.

Writing is therapy where
one finds no need to hire a therapist.
It’s sentences that are like a telegram line
which is electrified by readers eyes.

Scribers are members of sacred club where
membership is free and lasts a lifetime.
It’s a penman’s purpose,
that comes at any age.

Writing is thought or emotion
that rockets onto page
with destination… Ones heart.

And poetry sweet poetry
are words that move like blood cells.
Please cut me and watch me bleed.


Regrets #Poetry

There are so many things
They follow me on a chain
That I pick up and drag…
I want to drop the chain
But I can’t, my hands are empty
Because it’s held by my brain.

There are so many things that I regret
The list is longer than I can write here
Each day brings more regrets
I regret that I do not learn from past regrets.

I regret not saying I am sorry
I regret not forgiving and moving on
I regret not being fully honest
I regret not letting you in
I regret…

Reminders of past failures
Ever in the forefront of my mind
Getting lost in the confusion
Reality that I live in
Trying and failing