(English is a second language to me so please ignore my mistakes)
Hey. I am just another guy from the crowd who wants to do something different. I play guitar, sing and write songs. I am sometimes a poet too. I play/write for my self satisfaction.I dream to make a band and Bring Back Grunge! one day.
Grunge is not at all a type of music to me. It's was a Revolution! About small ... more »
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Pranav Gothic Poems
A heavy hearted sight
A radio screams another love-lost song through the frosty air. The lightening conducts a grand orchestra of tyranny. A weary cat can be heard hissing in the distance. A 'lost' teenager finds his ways home in the curfew.
A tribute to the forgotten heroes of Kar...
Today, I kissed the soil where they fell To save 'us' from hell Today,
Who Am I?
Who am I? A speck o' dust, Or a ball of fire? Or some wounded desire,
The Last Love-Letter
Yesterday, I was reading your letter.... Had just read the first few lines, And tears broke out. My vision blurred,
HER MOM CALLS ME A MURDERER
Hush Hush Hush! She sleeping
A starry night sky, lights up the tears upon my face. Like glistening pieces of heaven, coming from my eyes.
Who are you?
Who are you? A golden brooke Free from time's game A fairy, filling colors in the life of,
I sit...I write
Down to hell My fate spells How will it end? Mt mind tries
Alibi Yesterday has come and gone To never again, be here
Comments about Pranav Gothic
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
A heavy hearted sight
A radio screams another love-lost song through the frosty air.
The lightening conducts a grand orchestra of tyranny.
A weary cat can be heard hissing in the distance.
A 'lost' teenager finds his ways home in the curfew.
You can hear the beginnings of a quarrel drenching the misty night.
These feverish ill doings-
An instrumental quarrel-
Just another night,
A hopeless night!
Another man thumbs through photo albums as he wonders why he breathes.
A laugh is consumed into the depths of the dark wicked night.
You can see, through a window, ...