There is someone I love



There is someone I love

and she’s the only one.

She is not one of those

one-in-a-million girls,

there’s only one of her kind

and that is her,

that is my love.


I have written

more than a thousand words

about her,

for her,

and have said

more than thousands of times

“I love you”

“I love you” to her.

But it never seems to be enough,

there’s always that feeling

of writing few more words,

of saying it few more times.

One heart I’ve given to her

I wish I had more to offer.


I wish I could tell

the whole world

about my love

and the beauty she is

but I like the secrecy

because she’s a keeper.


I’m not gonna let

the world know

who she is

because it will try to

steal her from me

and killing the entire world

is not something I can afford.


It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.


It’s okay
It’s gonna be okay
At least that’s what
My heart tells me
But when I see inside my soul
It’s far far away from me

Okay is
Just a bottle of whisky,
A pack of cigarettes,
A good pen,
And a bunch of pale papers.
I can buy okay
Half of it is costly
Other half is cheap
But not permanent
It doesn’t stay with me.
Something is wrong with me
That’s why
Okay doesn’t feel okay with me
Or maybe I hurt okay too much
That’s why it stays away from me.
It’s okay
It’s gonna be okay
At least that’s what
My heart tells me
But when I see around myself
It’s far far away from me.

In my bar
There’s no bartender
Only a dozen broken tables
And plastic chairs for seats
It’s ugly and depressing
Sad, bleak, daunting, disheartening.
Maybe that’s how they sell more of it
Sometimes warm
Sometimes chilled.
I personally like it warm
and melting
Coldness is not
one of my virtues..
Sometimes some tear drops
Roll down my cheeks
Tiny little fuckers
Of no fuckin’ use.
It’s okay
It’s gonna be okay
At least that’s what
My heart tells me
But when I hear the mournful sound of it
I know it’s far far away from me.

– Sudhanshu Chouhan

Just you and me


You know
Sometimes I say things
That I don’t mean..
Sometimes I say things
That I mean
But I’m not sure of..
Sometimes I can’t say
What I mean..
And sometimes
I can’t say anything at all..
Sometimes I feel
I’m really here.
Sometimes I feel
I wish I were there.
Sometimes I feel
How would it feel
Not being here…
Not being there…
Away from the colors
Not being anywhere.
On a second thought,
maybe somewhere.
Where nothing exists..
Nothing big, nothing small
Where there’s no sign
of anything at all.
Just vaporous souls
of you and me..
Enthralled by
no destiny.
Where there are no walls,
not a single gate.
Where no one
writes our fate.
Just osculating souls
of you and me..
Enthralled by
no destiny.

-Sudhanshu Chouhan



We live in a rat’s nest
all the time restless.
In the ever increasing entropy
it’s all just infinite chaos.
And I’m a squeaky sound
in the symphony
the universe is playing.
I’m a crazy one.
I’m a hazy one.
I should be damned
from this world.
I should be condemned
from this world.
This world
is too good for me,
for my thoughts
and my reality.

I walk ahead of them
they pull me back,
I walk behind them
they laugh at me,
I walk with them
they push me away.
I try to want to walk with them
but they don’t want me.
they’re all so confused!
–ugly holes in the fabric of
my reality,
They make me feel happy
to be a mortal;
what good is it
to live in a world
which doesn’t want to
And they all want change.
I don’t.
I want them to continue
like this
and write the manuscript
of their own doom.
I don’t care
I’ll be gone soon.
In a millennium or two
they’ll all die too.
Morally, they are already
almost there.
There’s too much of
unused love
rotting in the pens of poets.
There’s too much of abhorrence
in the heads of gunmen.
There’s too much to hurt
too much to save.
Empty hearts
and empty graves.
I’ve been hurt
and I fight with it
to not let it turn
into lawless hate.
Guess I was too late.
Too much
I try
Too much
I feel
And there is too less
Time to heal.

-Sudhanshu Chouhan

A Scruffy Liver At A Bar


Reality really sucks.

Sucks harder than my ex-girlfriend.

Several times I’ve thought of…

I’ve thought of

putting it to an end.

Drove it to the edge

but there’s no fun in that.

I still have some bottoms to hit,

still have some unpaid debts.

You see…

Life is

death wrapped in time.

Happiness is

monotony swaddled in sugar.

God is

but Satan drunk on wine.

And love…

Love is

pain draped behind pleasure.

I’m letting the reality

to grow on me

to beat me

while I ripe.

I’m at this bar

Oh fuck the rhyming!

It is killing

my Bukowskian vibe.

-Sudhanshu Chouhan

Life is Easy.


I’m enjoying probably the best days of my life yet lived. Life is easy. And the ones who think that it is not are simply stupid and wondering how and why. I’ve never said myself that it is difficult. Actually I have never commented over the nature of life, though I might have commented over its being, now and then. If you could read that and still are able to read and process this then it means that you are alive. And if being alive doesn’t make you happy then I don’t know what would. I read those lines somewhere I do not remember. And that’s the good thing about truth — you never have to care where it came from. Good, you do understand! Now listen to what I have to say. From here onward read this thing like you are the only person who’s ever going to read it. Take your time. Read it carefully. There’s nothing that I have written which is not something that you already do not know. Finding difficulty in figuring out the last sentence? Don’t worry; I’ll keep it simple now. It’s about time you put a smile on your soul, your face will catch it sooner or later. But it will. Forgive everyone who ever hurt you. At least try. Okay, try it for a week and if doesn’t work then go back to being your present self. But at least try. You know how you feel when you are left ‘unforgiven’. I know that’s not a word but you do understand the feeling. Right? Yeah, right. And try this one more thing. Forgive yourself on the behalf of the people who have not forgiven you. There’s no meaning of dancing on the dance floor of someone else’s ego. And that doesn’t give you the right to dance on your own floor either. Dance. It is a good thing. But not on the ego-floor! Stand up and Dance. Dance like you have a tickle in your bum and your hands are tied and your legs are on fire. Even the thought of that is funny, eh? Now imagine everyone around you dancing like that. Now imagine everyone you ever came across dancing in the same way. Your school principal, your bus driver, your boss, your arrogant neighbor, your best friends, your irritating relatives, your ex. Picture me if you know me, you’ll laugh like hell. Was that too difficult to do? Probably not. If it was then you have to start reading books. They help you cultivate imagination. Good ones. And it helps you express your feelings. For example, I started writing this blog post (I don’t really know what to call it, so I just call it a blog post) as a facebook status. Just the first two sentences. But then thoughts came on in abundance, choking on their own and in need of words, so I just let them flow through the tips of my fingers on the keyboard and gave them life. Feels good. You should try this one as well. Now I don’t know where to end this. This is the most confusing part of writing. You never know when to stop. So what I have figured out is to leave this sente

Like a red sheet of gooey mirror



A paint drop dripping down my canvas

In conversation with gravity.

Moving towards the numb wooden floor

Showing some ecstatic audacity.


Smooth like a cat — making no sound

Possessing a sporadic figure.

Warming the ground, spreading on brown

Like a red sheet of gooey mirror.


Watching this sight, the paintbrush’s laughing

Unaware of its own vague nature.

But this drop is colour-blind, only sees red

Its nature is unlike creatures.


My canvas is crying but I can’t help

It hurts me because it’s all mine

If I scrub the floor and a stain is left

I’ll know the drop has lived just fine.

-Sudhanshu Chouhan

I see the shadows of lives around me.


I see the shadows of lives around me.

Silence of the lifeless better than sounds of oxygen.

Chaos more euphonious than ingenious compositions.


Tranquil water more potent than tumultuous torrents.

Fogs more animated than unblemished heavens.


Abstracts more striking than quiet straight lines.

Struggles more promising than effortless accessions.


Autocracy more energetic than dumb democracy.

Herds more organized than pitiful parliament sessions.


Poor man’s feet nattier than rich man’s shoes.

Prostitutes more virgin than souls of politicians.


Enemies more honest than forbearing friends.

Breakups more edifying than reckless relations.


Objectivism more disciplined than arid altruism.

Atheism more righteous than religious obligations.


Books more valuable than unsalable capitals.

Humanity more important than colour of generations.

-Sudhanshu Chouhan

Picture: Composition VII—according to Kandinsky, the most complex piece he ever painted (1913) (

No Need to Keep The Track of Time


No Need to Keep The Track of Time

-Sudhanshu Chouhan

No need to keep

the track of time.

It’ll pass anyway,

leaving you old

and used up.

With skin wrinkling

and mass bulging out

from all the corners

of the body

of which

you were once proud.

Leaving you dumbfounded

and make you realize

that’s not wisdom

you thought you had,

there is nothing

you thought you owned,

money’s just

a piece of paper,

you are just some nobody

in the crowd.



let’s not talk about it

because it hurts.

But what doesn’t?


Can you talk


the Mondays you hated?


the weekends you wasted?

Maybe about

the government that oppress you,

or maybe

the relations that depress you.


It takes audacity

to wear the mask of contentment.

When you wear it, then,

listen to me,

keep it for so long

that you lose the track of time.

The mask will take

shape of your face.


it’ll become your identity.

And once it has left

its impression on you,

pass it on

to the people

of my world.

~Sudhanshu Chouhan


Thanks for reading. Please follow my blog.

© sudhanshuchouhanpoetry

I’m the guy you’ll find alone


-Sudhanshu Chouhan

I’m the guy you’ll find alone,

Sitting at the table for

Breakfast, lunch and dinner.

At the bar,

In the park,

On the beach,

In the city.

I flow with

The winds alone,

I glide on

The time alone,

I walk alone.

The way I know you,

You don’t need me.

Blinded by the joys,

You don’t see me.

But you’ll see me

When it is all gone.

Mine is the soul

You will find

When you’re alone;

You will see me

With your eyes open

And closed.

You will see me


It is dark,

You will see me


You don’t know

What to look for.

You will see me


Nobody is looking for


You will find me

Just like you.


Thanks for reading. Please follow my blog.

 © sudhanshuchouhanpoetry