“I avoid making eye-contact it compels me to interact every time when they ask like some customary task I tell them that I'm fine another pre-recorded line seems much easier to lie than to explain them why cos by the… — Akash Mandal Copy Share Image
“If poetry is an escape into the woods, then music is the journey back home.” — Akash Mandal Copy Share Image
“A stranger lies behind my eyes, I know not what he wants; sells me dreams, tells me tales, then with the truth, he haunts.” — Akash Mandal Copy Share Image
“When fall comes to town, lovers, letters, and leaves reunite on the sidewalks, broken, burnt, and brown.” — Akash Mandal Copy Share Image
“When voices sing, Hearts begin to hope; When hearts hope, Voices begin to sing.” — Akash Mandal Copy Share Image
“Keep an eye out for her, she tends to disappear intermittently, leaving no note for one to know, as to where she is going and if she'll be showing up for supper that day, or in the dark, wander away. But soon she will map her way back to your lap timidly, in need for a warm, caring body to… — Akash Mandal Copy Share
“When striving through a pitch-black night, if you find yourself marooned and blue, lift your head high and take a sight, of the billion… — Akash Mandal Copy Share Image
“The docile doves have been mocked enough, by the darting drones that are built to snuff; and the olive branches have been dripping red, ever since we put our faith, in capsules of lead. At a time, when we need open libraries, the governments are plotting robotic militaries. and for how long should our nations linger in fear, from the… — Akash Mandal Copy Share
“A stranger lies behind my eyes, I know not what he wants; sells me dreams, tells me tales, and with the truth, he then… — Akash Mandal Copy Share Image
“Friday Haiku: Friday is always four days late, but brings me beer, so we stay even.” — Akash Mandal Copy Share Image
“A teapot is a book carrying liquid poetry, and each serving brings new solace to the thirsty reader.” — Akash Mandal Copy Share Image
“We stole the sky from the birds, with clouds that cache fly ash from the coal. Spoiled the waters with spilled oil, now the fish wish to live in a bowl. Beheaded the trees in the name of growth; concrete roads erode the soil from its soul. Poached and piled animals like wild animals, and forgot to realize the rise… — Akash Mandal Copy Share
