Serial killer escapes jail and assaults innocent dreams

Serial Killer

Clear as muddy sea
I’ll telltale of a killer
Who got caught but fled

Spring of hearts mastered
Got best of us he bastard
Then he killed our selves

He chanced our fine smiles
Left this unending distress
Crushed hope and then bailed

Soft hearts and kind souls
Ours that but turned to black coals
Burned then drowned then sold

Serial killer
Murdered our innocent dreams
Known as mister fear

He destroyed more lives
Then anything else that’s known
in heart feels like a kidney stone


PS: My first attempt at this style of poetry, and did manage to get rid of regularity on the last line. But I loved writing it nonetheless.


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Encountering Ghosts in India – Part 2/4

Do you like fictional stories? Well, this one is not. After his (a little disappointing) first day in India, Josh settles in a hotel room in Central Delhi. As he lay down on his less disappointing hotel room bed, he realizes something is wrong. Read Encountering Ghosts in India – Part 2/4 with Rees Gargi.

Read part 1 here, if you’ve missed it.

Someone is pounding the doors, but the sound of thuds barely falls on his ears. “What is it, am I really dying?”, Josh mumbles in his mind as he tries to move his body and falls from the bed. The floor is cold, at least he still can feel the temperature. Someone has burst the door open, finally. His moment of temporary relief turned into horror as a masked figure kneed on his feet. Of course, why would anyone from the hotel need to break the door, they must have had the keys. “Whaaa… “, Josh tried to form a word in shock and fails miserably.

He could feel the life getting sucked out of his mouth, his consciousness still on a see-saw of life and death.

“Don’t worry, I will just take your body, your soul is still yours”, said the masked man as he sucked the soul out from the mouth of Josh.

“You taste delectable, but I cannot savor this as you might run away”.

This guy is definitely not Indian, and he definitely is NOT into girls, thought Josh before gasping for air and coughing blood.

Finally, Josh collapses.

Rob - Encountering Ghosts in India

It’s dark, but some blurry sounds are triggering his consciousness. A blank light falling as if from a light bulb, spreading across the room slowly. He wants to scream because of the sudden gush of pain searing through his left arm. I am feeling pain, means I am not dead: thought Josh with his senses getting in place once again.

The sound is now molding into smooth and beautiful classical music. Josh can now feel the movement of steady air through his mouth to his lungs and back, the room is starting to form an image to his eyes and the masked mystery man is reading a book.

“I thought… you will kill me”, said Josh, still on the floor but laying with his face to the ceiling, mouth red with blood.

“Nocturne Op.9 No.2” replied the man with an unmistakeably English accent. “This music always bring the dark on my surface”.

“You’re not Indian, are you?” asked Josh  “Who are you and what just happened to me?”

“You are not traumatized, why?” answered the man with another question.

“I am not dead, and you are my bigger concern here”, Josh can now form words properly again, though blood in his mouth is still making uncomfortable for him to speak.

“Me? Oh thank you, that is sweet but I’ll be fine”, mocked the man.

“You know what I mean, I can’t die here. I need to go back home. Please, I cannot be buried here. I am not afraid of death, but this is not my place to die”, cried Josh.

“You will not die today mate, not under my watch. So stop with lady sensitivity here.”

Josh, unsure how to react closed his eyes and took a long breath before falling into sleep.

What a horrible dream. Josh opens his eyes. He overslept. It’s 2 pm on the wall clock.

He slept for over 15 hours, Oh God, he was tired.

yawning and stretching, Josh gets out of his bed and steps into the clean wooden floor. He had nothing to eat since his arrival in India. He even skipped his dinner but surprisingly, he is not hungry at all. I should get moving today, I did not invest my savings just to sleep in a foreign country, he thought as he unpacked his new clothes and walked into the shower.

He knew last night was just too real to be a dream. But there was no wound on his body and the door was not damaged either. Besides, if someone had trespassed the alley and hotel lobby, the staff would’ve known. There are cameras all over this place and no one can wander streets wearing a weird stupid mask. Mask, he could not even remember the type of mask it was, it was all too hazy, just like an ordinary bad dream. I’ll start with a breakfast first, he interrupted his thought train as he twisted the shower knob off.

“I’ll have some Omelette and coffee”, Josh ordered to the waiter. “And… bring some cold water first”. The hotel dining was overcrowded, so Josh had to get his breakfast from a next-door cafe. Unlike last day, it is a very windy afternoon, and Josh did not want to get his meal on the bed, he needed to move out.

It was a small nice cafe, with a couple or three sitting and just one person waiting tables. He probably was the cook as well, predicted Josh as he takes out a magazine from the side-table. Should I get a sim card? Josh asked himself, his trip was supposed to be a spiritual adventure, and not bringing his cell phone with him was his plan, to begin with. But he might need to contact someone familiar if anything wrong were to happen. Maybe I should get a burner.

“Hey, hey excuse me sir” Josh called the waiter. “Do you know where can I get a burner?”

“Eh, sorry sorry” mumbled the waiter looking confused and pointed a young boy to answer Josh. “Pardon, what?” asked the boy, looking confused as well.

“Where do I, ah! nevermind” Josh stopped himself and begin forking his just-delivered-omelet in disappointment. Actually not, it’s pretty tasty and there’s always a black pepper shaker on Indian tables, Josh giggled to himself before resting his palm on forehead.

“You should try their tea” came a very familiar voice from a guy sipping his on another table. Josh did not notice when this guy came. “It is marvelous”.

“Excuse me,” said Josh in astonishment.

He knew exactly who this English guy was. He sounded the same and it cannot be coincident. “I don’t like tea” finished Josh.

“Really, then I feel bad you.” said the man as he put down some change on the table and stood up to leave. “By the way, you would not get any disposable phone here, it’s hard enough for people who are already living here”. How long this guy was here, Josh stood as well and put down a hundred rupee bill on his table.

“How do I get a sim card then,” asked Josh without blinking. He had to have enough evidence to ask direct questions to the man.

“Are you here for the first time then, I presume.”


“Get someone acquainted here, like this waiter, he’ll get you a number cheaply”, said the man with a slight disgust in his eyes as the waiter smiles. “This lad did not understand a single word I said, did he?”

They both shared a brief laughter. “My name is Rob by the way” the man introduced himself. “I am the man who saved you last night, do you have a lighter,” said Rob drawing out a cigarette from his breast pocket.



Encountering Ghosts in India – Part 1/4

Do you like fictional stories? Well, this one is not. Josh is a 26 years old banker from Minnesota and after saving up for his dream-trip to India, he decides to put his regular mundane life on a hold and experience something bigger. Little did he know, demons were waiting for his arrival. Read Encountering Ghosts in India – Part 1/4 with Rees Gargi.

It was the time when Josh decided to travel across India, known for its spiritual background. He always wanted to see the beauty with his own eyes. Internet would never do justice to such a cultural phenomenon, he wonders as he books his flight to New Delhi.

After getting his currency converted into Indian Rupees, he would move into a hotel in Karol Bagh, central Delhi. His journey from Indira Gandhi International Airport to Connaught Place was not as exciting as his flight. This time of the year is often filled with a rush in Indian Airports. Unsure of this fact and its authenticity as it was stated by, what looked like a drunk Taiwanese man, Josh simply enthused about the traffic and massive numbers of vehicles as seen from airplane window seat, as he and his Manipuri seat-neighbor arrived India.

Encountering Ghosts in India - Part 1/4

Josh knew about the humidity and hot weather and he came prepared for it. The back pocket of his shorts carried a sunscreen and some aloe vera gel. He once visited Texas, but compared to this Delhi heat, it was nothing. And it’s not even May or June.

Josh tried to talk with his cab driver as they moved past around, what looked like a huge sculpture of a monkey with weird looking mace… “or hammer it is”, Josh said with a loud whisper.

“This is Hanuman and its gada”, said the cab driver, feeble-looking but with heavy hair under his nose. “We Hindus worship him”.

Josh was confused and amused at the same time. He was expecting this. These people worship cows., why wouldn’t they revere a monkey, he thought with a grin.

“Jai Hanuman”, chanted the cab driver as the traffic light around the almighty idol turned green and the Uber crawled forward.

Lord Hanuman
Image Copyrights Reserved*

After this general knowledge session on Hinduism, nothing of particular interest met expectations of Josh. Hot Evening, screaming and yelling crowd, crawling cars in traffic jam accompanied by aggressive honking, the smell of dirt and dung and glaring-eyes-smiling-lips of little men as if they have never seen a white person before.

Josh was already tired which was unusual for him, even after a long flight. But he couldn’t think much now as he settled his suitcase, untied his kicks and jumped straight into his bed. For the day he had in India so far, he was expecting a dirty compartment for a room but to his amazement, he had never stayed in such a nice hotel room before.

Even his growling stomach could not convey him to call hotel kitchen and order dinner. He never felt this much fatigue. Was it change in climate? Unsure, he slowly closed his eyes, thinking about getting breakfast first thing in the morning. It is weird. Why can’t he move his body out of the bed? He tries to open his eyes but falls into slumber as soon as he could think about screaming, because he knew at that moment: he was dying!

Read Part 2.

*Lord Hanuman Image Copyrights reserved to Dainik Bhaskar.

Flickering snow

I would like to know how it feels to grow

with life so good and company above

I would like to see how it feels to feel

the love exists in hearts of yours

I would like to hear the sound of breath

when I put my head on bosoms of yours

But maybe I would not be able to taste

your flame with my flickering snow


You picked me up when I was fragile as glass

was already broken when you cast me far

you fixed me well, you made me strong

You left me then, again broken and alone


I wish I knew if you loved me at all

You lifted my spirits, then threw me down

You killed the dead, before shining him light

You just gave up on me, left without a fight


I wish you loved me, I wish you do

If ever you did, I wouldn’t have let you go

But I guess it’s my fate, to that I bow

to your farewell, my flickering snow.



Poetry by Rees Gargi

signed A Reasonable Guy

Find me on Instagram/Facebook/Twitter and show you appreciations and support by following me and sharing. Read this if you are curious.




Never Born (if you’re feeling sad)

(7 days after she left me, I became depressed)

I waited for her message, I sat through all night

suddenly we just gave up, not even had a fight

I gazed that screen, wore my blurred vision

As time passed by, season by season

Cold ears, red eyes

I just screamed, inside

I cried to see her text just one more time

I never thought I was that kind of a guy

Moon - Never Born Poem
Never Born – Poetry of Rees Gargi

(After few days, she updated her profile picture. A little less depressed as I sat in a park to enjoy the full moon)

Sat on a bench, dark of the night

I loved the moon, I loved the sight

I smoked, seeing the clouds slide

the sky is gray like this beautiful life

Life this world has, vehemence flowing through veins

If sky was not a living being, why would it stay so strange


But then, I would see silver scars on my moon

which seems to smile upon this lovestruck fool

As I salute him with my smirky blew

To be honest, I need love, I am desperate for you


But it’s alright if you finally left me,

I hope to become better for someone who will need me

I have heard life is alive if some love is shown

Does that mean it’d be dead if we were never born


Smoking - Never Born Poem
Never Born – Poetry by Rees Gargi

(Later that night, as I finally let her leave my mind for a while. Feeling teary but satisfied)

I would walk in the park, I could still feel the chill

In the wintery breeze, I can almost love this shrill

I’ve no regrets, maybe I am too young to carry one

I’ll be grateful to the father. I’ll always be one obedient son

I’ll spend an eternity to see this sky, and probably would never be known

Would life be the same, if I was never born

Burned with Passion

Inspired by a collaboration with @noora.f.lek on Instagram.

For shout out, reach my Instagram profile and follow to collaborate.


Elongated with Passion

 Burned with Passion

Sparked with a passion, kind of

as he laid eyes on his dream

He begin to hustle as he saw a glimpse of it

He saw himself accomplished what he needs to be

As if he saw the future, vague, but it felt true to him.

He moved further, cleared the haze himself

worked finely as he cleared all books of the shelf

When that vaguely turned crystal and time elapsed

He knew where he is heading, “oh god! finally” he gasped

Burned with passion by Rees Gargi
Burned with passion by Rees Gargi

He saw his dream and jotted it on a piece of paper

His flame was tough, fiery enough to turn fears into vapors

Burned with passion, he worked unconscious of days and nights

he want to give in everything he got, not to give up, without a fight


He endured the jeerings of people burning with jealousy and hatred

that was in his aware, but he’s shivering now he lost it

Succumbed with passion, was he?

Yes and as he started to lose control

his patience was put to test, his nerves were swole


Once again he remembered his beginning

about how he’d work towards conquering his dream

He can’t stay distracted anymore, he needs to gather up

Fight himself if he has to, but move ahead and grow up

Elongated with passion, he strives to reach the sun

he would get himself burned, exclaimed everyone

This time, it did not stop him as he reached out his hands

As he leaped high, with a considerable height, as he planned


Burned with Flame - Instagram Post
Instagram Post

Let me know your reaction upon reading this. Leave a comment below and I’ll be grateful.

Lost Soul

Lost Soul

Last night I slept half past four
Couldn’t sleep while my three brothers snore
I stared at the ceiling which reminded me of sky
Like a jolly daylight, moon lit our room bright
I thought of having a dream as I sleep
Lucid to be, I’d like demons to creep
They would not scare me, I’ve seen enough dark
Cold as coldest winters, days fierce and stark

I would like to be scared though; I really need some sleep
How Am I supposed to wake up early, if I don’t stay in my kip
I stood up, emptied snacks into a bowl
Felt too random, curious, anxious, have I lost my soul?

Lost Soul


Lost Souls

Lost Soul

I try to wake up early, and I try to make it out
with a blurred vision I would see, I would hear sound that loud
Then I would put on my glasses, to see the world as it should seem
with stiffed back I would stretch, nature again would look so mean
I’ve seen good times and bad too, but I never seen the best yet
my days would pass by as I, climb up or fall back
I don’t laugh or cry much, I feel very emotionless
I’ve always helped as much as I could, but never heard that one yes
I think God looks after us, or as this was what I used to think
but this is one possibility, and so is that God does not exist
Like this, my day would pass by and as I would go to sleep
And time would go fly till past four, and I would still not even blink.




Just a casual poem, in which I expressed my heart and the story of “how I got fat in last summer” which, to be frank, many of my dearest friends have been asking. So yes, I empty the bowl of snacks every night, I am sleep deprived and my day job includes sitting on a desk for 6 hours straight. Anyways, for more reasonable and logical stuff, follow my Instagram/twitter/facebook @reesgargi

I am including a healthy diet and good workout routine now, for a good mind, you need a healthy functional body.

Cheers ?

Lost Soul

Hills of Desperation (Prologue)

Hills of Desperation

The Prologue

Two men are walking down the road. It’s almost midnight, and they know they had have done something terrible. Something unforgivable. Something for which their souls would be tormented and tortured in hell. They just don’t feel sorry for that, as money is good, and crime is deeper than that – everyone knows.

“Do you reckon Mancer would reward us for that? We overdid this time” said the slightly larger man as other kept chewing his teeth.

“Come on Beef, Mancer has done worse than this, and of course he would reward us. We are the best assassins in the city, and he values that” said another man confidently.

“Blimey Pete, level your voice, it’s midnight, and you’re gonna get us in trouble.” Both walked through a residential street.

They both have plans for the 80 grand they are promised to receive after the job that they overdid.

Beef wanted to quit thug and get on with his life. His guts were disgusted. And Pete would keep saying that he’d fuck whores and empty the barrels of whiskey once he gets his forty thousand dollars.

They still have 4 miles to walk, and it’s already 2 past midnight. They are quite now. Even the darkest of humans couldn’t talk much after killing an infant, but Pete was not a human. He always wished to rule the streets when he was a teenager and has murdered people before. Beef is not comfortable talking about it. He always used to mention his tales from London and how he would punish those who would dare to upset him. He was a badass. But Pete would joke about his masculinity as he was not even able to kill someone when he had the chance.

They have reached the main door of Bron Villa. Following the narrow streets of Azure, this house looked like a giant pearl shining in a swamp. Made of marble, the villa shone in the moonlight. It has a large swimming pool, bigger than most of the villa and behind it, dwelling stood on a hill. A lighthouse alongside which seemed abandoned. The rocky shores stopped the waves hitting it harsh and making loud noises that can only calm restless souls.

The large gates are now sliding and two big sized men, greater than Beef, appears wearing suit and tie.

Azure was a city dying of poverty, and someone has managed to build such luxury from that. One of the men, hard to tell which one, they both looked very similar, stepped forward and asked Pete for something. Pete showed him a mark on his wrist and said the secret code. They both are now allowed in this giant mansion.

Beef always wondered why Mancer would need such a large swimming pool, there was an entire sea behind the villa. But today his mind is occupied, he has killed people before, but it was different this time.

As they walked past the swimming pool and into the main entrance of the house, a woman comes and escort them inside into the lobby where stood a man. The man has a look on his face, a look that might harm the ego of most men. Pride can be seen on his face with sharp features. He is more beautiful than most Prince has ever been. With an expensive cigar clung tight to his lips he muttered something in the left ear of that woman, which upon hearing, disappeared from the sight of Beef and Pete.

“Mancer, we did what you told us to do. You owe us money” Pete said with a false sounding American accent.

“I am not seeing any child in your arms,” said Mance, calmly.

“He died with his mother. We are fucking assassins, not some kidnap agency,” said Pete, still carrying a lot of confidence in his voice.

“I told you, to kill the woman and bring me the child.”

“We lost the child, the woman tried to defend her baby, and he fell from the 4th story. We could not do anything Mancer,” said Beef apologetically.

“You killed the child.”

“Aye, we did. So what fucker. You are not our boss. You hired us to kill, and we did the kill. Pay us or else you would lose the good faith of blackmen brothers.” Pete is now spitting words out.

Mancer, glaring towards the two men of blackmen brothers.

“Beef, what you told Zera about your kills in London and America.”

Beef is a smart guy, he predicted his imminent death. “I…I did not, I killed two men in London in a close combat and murdered one old man in Chicago, I am sorry Lord Mancer, this guy here is nonsense, please forgive us for our wrong and this foul’s profanity”.

“You can leave Beef. Tell Jaguar, blackmen brothers are not allowed in Azure and if any is spotted from next morning; I will diminish this god forsaken band of men myself, lost now” Mance, sounding calm still draws a blade from his sleeves.

In the Hope

I remember writing this poem about 5 years ago, it was the first poem I ever made. Although I was shy at first, never wanting anyone to see what I write, I finally published this online. For a 17 years old kid, I was not very smart. I made lots of mistakes but did I deserved the sadness? This was the question I would ask myself every night before I sleep. I had lost hope several times, tried to find the peace in myself.

In reality, feeling weak and useless is very common nowadays. I am not the only person who needs encouragement and inspiration. A writer’s job is to make words out of everything: the thing that cannot be expressed otherwise. Words no painting can paint and feel that would touch the insides of your heart and give you goosebumps.

I am too young to think about that, as told to me by many elders. I should liven up a bit and stop worrying about the reality of this cruel world. How could I be happy if there was no hope, no light of love?

Moreover, I found the happiness, the reason I should be happy. I learned that the world is what we see and it is what we make out of it.

I learned to smile and to rise as a guy who believes in the world. There’s hope. It will always be.


In the hope – by Rees Gargi

In the hope, which we mourn

Goodness is murdered brutally

And will to live is gone

Days do pass by, nights still are long

In heart ours evil lives and darkness: it is born

In the hope, which we mourn


A Sad Guy looking fore hope
Guy looking for hope.


When it rains, sadness pours from beyond

Darkness overheads until our path is lone,

Then we wish for warmth and the bond

We find nothing, tears are now grown

Blindfolded with false happiness

In the hope, which we mourn

PS. As an illustration, the painting in this poem is used here with permission, It is called After the Deluge. Read about it here. Not to mention, it is a good read if you like art.

Again, hope is very easy to be found but hard to be contained and no matter how bad things are happening for us, hope can bring lights even in the darkest of the caves. Have a lovely day.


Melody O’ Whit

I was not much into poetry when I first penned down this poem. In fact, this is my second poem among the nine I had written so far. This is about a woman, under a dilemma. I’m not a feminist, to be honest. We all fight for our own rights sometimes, let it be any gender among the two. But this woman, in the poem, has two choices under the circumstances. She can panic and run like a normal person would do, or she can just sit, enjoy some mild music and her cuppa. It’s a war going on for god’s sake.

Melody O’ Whit by Rees Gargi

Fancy a black tea in the hammock

Wore in velvet gown and fedora

With a mild sound of verginal

Tore she red sock lit the menorah

She is a woman of Christian

And her father was a jew

Murdered many men for religion

But she enjoyed her tea like few

She knows she would die alone

Just the like she was born

All the troubles and one of wit

She drinks tea, melody o’ whit

Her smile is innocent as a child

But she is none like religious gits

She knows better to enjoy the state

So she drinks tea, melody o’ whit

Her brother turned to Islam

But he chanted the name of Ram

Stabbed and hanged in the east

Name of Quran uncomely crimped

Politics rised with a mask of skit

She drink tea, melody O’ whit

Families are cramped in a box

Families of others owns heaviest rocks

No one lives religious but divide

Lives in false happiness with fake pride

But the world is heavily biased

Name of God dragged to a sham

She is powerless lest many throats slit

And she drinks tea, melody O’ whit

by Rees Gargi