The box is pink, a green satin ribbon is hugging it. A lizard is encased in that plastic-covered-with velvet-box. The lizard's eyes are glassy, steely, exotic- all at once. A motley of reflexes, more often than not, of revulsion crawls through my body. If you were to witness this disgusting spectacle, you would be overtaken by nausea, too. The prettiness of the encasement is soured by the contents. Have I already said that before? Well, I want to say it again. Feel it. Feel the slimy creature. The light goes dark. I see nothing. I still know that the lizard exists; its movement I can know. I shudder. I've been shuddering ever since. The lizard has cast its spell; its wish is granted - I have lost the battle of wits. The iron rod has been bent with a shudder.I have surrendered to that reptile, which shall rule my life with its malicious glint and its striving commitment. It expects from me love, I can give it naught. Oh, the reptile is advancing towards me. Each waking moment of drudgery in those Orb-like eyes. A film of poison on its pink tongue, and soon, on my ring finger.
The bitch won. That compromise of a bitch always wins.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
The Comrades
We're comrades in arms, we are the world.
We walk life with a rugged swagger.
A smirk on our face to grace the occasion,
A tilt of our heads with no care at all.
We scale the rough terrain with ease,
we fly a wounded sky with not a pinch of pain,
Who are we? The comrades!
What are we? The Comrades!
A deep, husky voice - our sole possession
Our well of emotion - dry and buried!
Buried under the sandstorm that came along,
and drove us to those gigantic pyramids,
where we waited gagged and wound-up.
Embalmed in gold, the death of a platinum life.
We walk life with a rugged swagger.
A smirk on our face to grace the occasion,
A tilt of our heads with no care at all.
We scale the rough terrain with ease,
we fly a wounded sky with not a pinch of pain,
Who are we? The comrades!
What are we? The Comrades!
A deep, husky voice - our sole possession
Our well of emotion - dry and buried!
Buried under the sandstorm that came along,
and drove us to those gigantic pyramids,
where we waited gagged and wound-up.
Embalmed in gold, the death of a platinum life.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Shore Whore
Yes, you call it time.
It's a mere sea, I say.
You're at one shore,
I am the other.
The same waters lick our feet
and the same Sun indulges us.
No bridge can be built on the sea,
for no monkeys work for free;
but if you wish, love,
I could try calling out to you,
and maybe a pigeon
will offer its services
and deliver my voice
at your shore-step.
It's a mere sea, I say.
You're at one shore,
I am the other.
The same waters lick our feet
and the same Sun indulges us.
No bridge can be built on the sea,
for no monkeys work for free;
but if you wish, love,
I could try calling out to you,
and maybe a pigeon
will offer its services
and deliver my voice
at your shore-step.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Ice-cream at my doorstep. Not NICE.
The noise, the noise, the noise;
The music, the music, the music.
The crowd, the crowd, the crowd;
The company, the company, the company.
The vulgarity, the vulgarity, the vulgarity;
The trends, the trends, the trends.
The spilt ice-cream outside my door;
Wait, that's got no optimistic tone to it.
Although I could say something silly:
My door got its share of ice cream.
Except it didn't want it.
NEITHER DID I.
YOU ICE-CREAM THROWER, I AM GOING TO GET YOU.
The music, the music, the music.
The crowd, the crowd, the crowd;
The company, the company, the company.
The vulgarity, the vulgarity, the vulgarity;
The trends, the trends, the trends.
The spilt ice-cream outside my door;
Wait, that's got no optimistic tone to it.
Although I could say something silly:
My door got its share of ice cream.
Except it didn't want it.
NEITHER DID I.
YOU ICE-CREAM THROWER, I AM GOING TO GET YOU.
Sun-shade
Searching for some solace,
I wake up every morning.
The sun's rays are too harsh,
Yes, I wake up at noon.
So, what?
Anyway, as I was saying,
there seems to be no escape
from this heat.
This heat of the moment,
this heat between people,
this heat of the summer!
Stupid, stupid summer!
All I want is some shade.
Some shield to deflect the ills.
A Superman's cape on my head,
and an opaque spider web around me.
I shall, then, roam the skies,
touch the moon and the stars,
and bounce my way to the Sun.
I wake up every morning.
The sun's rays are too harsh,
Yes, I wake up at noon.
So, what?
Anyway, as I was saying,
there seems to be no escape
from this heat.
This heat of the moment,
this heat between people,
this heat of the summer!
Stupid, stupid summer!
All I want is some shade.
Some shield to deflect the ills.
A Superman's cape on my head,
and an opaque spider web around me.
I shall, then, roam the skies,
touch the moon and the stars,
and bounce my way to the Sun.
Just that
I can’t put it into sublime words
or try to fit it in a sentence
because I wouldn’t be doing it justice.
It isn’t a silly ideology
or an impulsive whim
It is what has remained of
a burnt pride and a torn faith.
Why would I want to dirty my hands
with the amorphous memory
that flew into one of my eyes
and hurt till blood crept in
and tainted my very perception?
I am simply going to shed my clothes,
walk on the rim of an open river
and dive into its iciness
with a hope that it freezes
the ocean of emotion
that surges beneath my very being.
or try to fit it in a sentence
because I wouldn’t be doing it justice.
It isn’t a silly ideology
or an impulsive whim
It is what has remained of
a burnt pride and a torn faith.
Why would I want to dirty my hands
with the amorphous memory
that flew into one of my eyes
and hurt till blood crept in
and tainted my very perception?
I am simply going to shed my clothes,
walk on the rim of an open river
and dive into its iciness
with a hope that it freezes
the ocean of emotion
that surges beneath my very being.
Surprise
Memories lie hidden in coves.
They're buried in the sand.
Peeping through the sieve of time,
they seem so desperate!
They hide under the table,
and crouch under the bed.
They slither their way across the hall
and present themselves at the dining table!
A pleasant surprise at lunch,
a rude shock for dinner!
Whatever the surprise,
it makes you cry.
Sometimes with joy,
sometimes with fear,
and sometimes, as very oft,
out of sheer lost hope clothed
in shimmery helplessness.
And that is no surprise at all.
They're buried in the sand.
Peeping through the sieve of time,
they seem so desperate!
They hide under the table,
and crouch under the bed.
They slither their way across the hall
and present themselves at the dining table!
A pleasant surprise at lunch,
a rude shock for dinner!
Whatever the surprise,
it makes you cry.
Sometimes with joy,
sometimes with fear,
and sometimes, as very oft,
out of sheer lost hope clothed
in shimmery helplessness.
And that is no surprise at all.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Space
A glass wall separates us.
I can see you, I can see.
I watch your breath move in and out
of that body I seek to possess,
I watch you click your fingers
and sing a song that I can't hear.
I am watching you blink,
and with you I am blinking,
just like the hearts on either side
that are bursting open with each beat.
There is this space between us,
there is, too, a wall.
But I can't break down the barrier,
and I can't do anything at all.
Why? You may wonder why.
I can't see the wall to break it down.
I can't see the space.
Touch it, I can't. Knock on it, I can't.
I can breathe on it, and draw figures
on the moist clouds of my breath that form
funny pictures on the glass.
I wouldn't break that, now.
Would you?
I can see you, I can see.
I watch your breath move in and out
of that body I seek to possess,
I watch you click your fingers
and sing a song that I can't hear.
I am watching you blink,
and with you I am blinking,
just like the hearts on either side
that are bursting open with each beat.
There is this space between us,
there is, too, a wall.
But I can't break down the barrier,
and I can't do anything at all.
Why? You may wonder why.
I can't see the wall to break it down.
I can't see the space.
Touch it, I can't. Knock on it, I can't.
I can breathe on it, and draw figures
on the moist clouds of my breath that form
funny pictures on the glass.
I wouldn't break that, now.
Would you?
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Continuity
It begins very abruptly
and doesn't fail to flow
like that river of sweat
on a terribly humid day
or that weak strand of water
from a broken tap which
we so often fail to notice
in our own pursuit of
an endless ocean of success
wherein we swim using worry
and every time the storm comes
we look for a lifebuoy
that can save our life,
a lot like the love we seek
when the ground beneath us
breaks open and we don't fall
whereas we'd much rather fall
and have our feet feel the ground.
and doesn't fail to flow
like that river of sweat
on a terribly humid day
or that weak strand of water
from a broken tap which
we so often fail to notice
in our own pursuit of
an endless ocean of success
wherein we swim using worry
and every time the storm comes
we look for a lifebuoy
that can save our life,
a lot like the love we seek
when the ground beneath us
breaks open and we don't fall
whereas we'd much rather fall
and have our feet feel the ground.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Dyscalculia
Another sweltering summer day, and another class of 'Basic Mathematics'. No, it's not fair. I am sure even the mention of this dreary combination has painted an ugly picture in your mind. I don't blame you. It is MATH, and it is HOT. Why, why, WHY, would you do this to yourself? I do not know why I am doing this to myself.
Of course, I am forgetting to mention that I am stuck in a stupid 5-year course in IIT, but I shall not forget to mention that I am 'stuck' in a HUMANITIES and SOCIAL SCIENCES COURSE. WHY WOULD ANYONE EVEN DREAM OF HAVING TO DO MATHEMATICS IN A HUMANITIES COURSE? WHY, WHY, WHY, WHY, WHYYYY?
I am dying. Officially. I sit in class and I am lost. I come up with witty comments or flowery poetry in the middle of a math class, hell, something is wrong with me!
My prof started 'Limits and Derivatives' the other day. You ought to see him. His undying enthusiasm for Mathematics makes me snort my butt off. It is downright ludicrous to see a grown man, standing as excited as a kid when it comes to solving some mind-numbingly complex Derivatives Theorem on the board. Wait, did I say 'solve the theorem'? Ah-ah, that is wrong, babies. It is 'proving the theorem'. I give a rat's ass. Apparently, I am supposed to. Anyway, this prof is quite sadistic. He KNOWS that I am a goner when it comes to Math, and yet, he smiles at me, and asks me some weird question, the contents of which I have NEVER heard of ( probably because I wasn't listening...Probably) and I am bowled! I mutter some evidently i-don't-really-know-what-you-are-talking-about-words and then he smiles EVEN MORE, SHAKES HIS HUGE HEAD AND COMES UP WITH THE SOLUTION...PRONTO! And I slump.
UGH. My life has been on the verge of extinction ever since this semester has begun. Mathematics and failing the course is all I have in my mind. Worry? You don't even know that word! It is supposed to be 'Basic' Mathematics. Whoever thought Derivatives was 'Basic' huh?
Calculus. I have a good mind to go back in time and throw Newton and Leibniz into a box, send it to Mars, and end this torment once and for all!
So much for taking arts to AVOID math. So much for my masterplan.
Of course, I am forgetting to mention that I am stuck in a stupid 5-year course in IIT, but I shall not forget to mention that I am 'stuck' in a HUMANITIES and SOCIAL SCIENCES COURSE. WHY WOULD ANYONE EVEN DREAM OF HAVING TO DO MATHEMATICS IN A HUMANITIES COURSE? WHY, WHY, WHY, WHY, WHYYYY?
I am dying. Officially. I sit in class and I am lost. I come up with witty comments or flowery poetry in the middle of a math class, hell, something is wrong with me!
My prof started 'Limits and Derivatives' the other day. You ought to see him. His undying enthusiasm for Mathematics makes me snort my butt off. It is downright ludicrous to see a grown man, standing as excited as a kid when it comes to solving some mind-numbingly complex Derivatives Theorem on the board. Wait, did I say 'solve the theorem'? Ah-ah, that is wrong, babies. It is 'proving the theorem'. I give a rat's ass. Apparently, I am supposed to. Anyway, this prof is quite sadistic. He KNOWS that I am a goner when it comes to Math, and yet, he smiles at me, and asks me some weird question, the contents of which I have NEVER heard of ( probably because I wasn't listening...Probably) and I am bowled! I mutter some evidently i-don't-really-know-what-you-are-talking-about-words and then he smiles EVEN MORE, SHAKES HIS HUGE HEAD AND COMES UP WITH THE SOLUTION...PRONTO! And I slump.
UGH. My life has been on the verge of extinction ever since this semester has begun. Mathematics and failing the course is all I have in my mind. Worry? You don't even know that word! It is supposed to be 'Basic' Mathematics. Whoever thought Derivatives was 'Basic' huh?
Calculus. I have a good mind to go back in time and throw Newton and Leibniz into a box, send it to Mars, and end this torment once and for all!
So much for taking arts to AVOID math. So much for my masterplan.
A pretty picture
Light falls upon the ocean,
and paints a pretty picture.
I try to capture its beauty
but I fall short of apt words.
My paintbrush works tirelessly,
yet, something is missing.
The fury of sunlight - where?
The frothy, singing surf- where?
The dance of the mighty wind- where?
The delicate, ugly fish- where?
The tiny gem of a pebble- where?
They've all gone hiding...where?
In the dark ink of my pen,
or in the opaque colours I use?
Unfairly absconding are intricacies,
And left behind is an empty ode.
and paints a pretty picture.
I try to capture its beauty
but I fall short of apt words.
My paintbrush works tirelessly,
yet, something is missing.
The fury of sunlight - where?
The frothy, singing surf- where?
The dance of the mighty wind- where?
The delicate, ugly fish- where?
The tiny gem of a pebble- where?
They've all gone hiding...where?
In the dark ink of my pen,
or in the opaque colours I use?
Unfairly absconding are intricacies,
And left behind is an empty ode.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Laws of Attraction!
Murphy’s Law. Things that need to go wrong, will go wrong in due time. What is wrong, and what is right, and what is rightfully wrong, and wrongfully right is not for us to decide, but then, we are the Lords of our own Being! Screw you, Murphy. Muhuhuhahaha!
In the middle of all this hubbub regarding right and wrong, let’s take some time out invoke the Almighty’s blessing with the means of a prayer. Oh, wait, that might go wrong. I have a FEELING that something might go wrong. Let’s not. Let’s all be atheists and live in cautious apathy all our lives! Sounds like a plan! High-five, slap on the back, a smirk and an iron-handshake (with an unsaid wiggle of the huge backside)! Congratulations, you’ve mastered the art of the Kiung-fiung-jiung handshake.
Coming back to the point, Murphy’s Law. Who is this Murphy fellow anyway, and WHY on earth is he such a pessimist? I bet something really tragic happened when he was teeny-tiny, and that kind of scarred him for the rest of his, and our, blessed lifetime. Piss the pain away, Murphy. Piss it away.
Murphy’s Law has a weird way of working. It claims that bad things tend to slyly creep up right behind you and poke you in the rib and stick its tongue out at you and say “Looooossserrrr”, and here’s the cherry on the cake- All this, when you’re already expecting them to happen! Jesus! I mean, how sad is this, eh? You know you’re going to fall into a pit of mould and rotten leftover broth, and you do! Yeah, because THAT makes me feel like an augur! Ta-daa! Magic! *All my wishes have come true, and I am dreamy eyed*. Oh, give me a break. Seriously.
Let me now tell you a story. It’s one of those fairy tales, you see. Enchanting.
Once upon a time, there lived Mr. Murphy. Mr. Murphy came back home from work and sat down to read the newspaper. Mr. Murphy tried reading the paper, but Mr. Murphy was certain that something was going to go wrong. He was sure of the fact that the paper was going to deceive his instincts and his abilities and that the newspaper was going to push-and-pull his sensory endowments and make him go crazy. He also felt that something else was going to happen-something dark, evil and downright sleazy!
And so, it happened. As Mr. Murphy sipped his faithful cup of coffee, and tried to swallow the chunks of news thrown at him by the tabloid, his mind went blank. A draft hit his empty head and his head was diagnosed as suffering from pneumonia. Okay, that was a slight exaggeration. (Or, not) The letters in the newspaper seemed to lose their form and were mingling into one huge blob of black, in a conspiracy against him. They seemed like daggers and swords, waging a dirty war against him! Eeeesh! He blamed it on irresponsible media and turned another page. This time, the words danced all over the page and he was convinced it was magic! Another page convinced him of his having bought a foreign newspaper. Yes, it was BAD. Never before were his levels of comprehension this low. They seemed to have hit rock-bottom and were sinking lower and lower with each turn of the page. At one point, Murphy was convinced that the words had formed a chain and were parading naked around the room only to imitate a snake and scare him away. Not only was their structure eerie, but so was their content! The enormity of language intimidated him for the very first time! Animalistic tendencies overtaking the multifarious supersonicamorous retrodynamic shmooglecapability savannahanimalharrowingmadness. Ha. Beat that!
Unable to grasp the intensity of the insanity that left him indisposed, Murphy went on to the nicer things in life-Mrs. Murphy. Mrs. Murphy, a shrewd nagging man of a lady had a lot of issues. The moment he went to cuddle up to her, and tell her that he loved her, she kicked Murphy out of the house. Murphy always knew this was going to happen the day he decided to get married to her. He ignored this premonition and believed in goodness, who, eventually, betrayed his balls. Hence, Murphy justified himself by saying that ‘Aal was well’ and that he always KNEW something was going to go haywire, but he didn’t mind taking the goddamned plunge. So much for chivalry.
With nothing more to do, and with the intent of venting, Murphy Macho sat down to work. Unable to concentrate, and unable to get that ‘wet’ feeling out of himself, he decided to do something for the well-being of the society at large. He created the Murphy’s Laws. He also added that the Murphy Laws adhere to positive and cheerful situations as well, but like that’s going to happen!
Murphy, Murphy. Darling Murphy, what have you got against us poor souls? So, you had a bad day, so you had a bad marriage. Tsk, tsk, does that mean you get all charged and come up with a wacky theory that rules the life of many later on? The other day, I had a feeling I was going to inflate, like a balloon, and roam the skies. Naah, honey, it was sheer gas.
Then again, I look around, and I see Murphy Man ruling the psyche of many a person! The other day, a Prof said “You guys have come late, I expected this. Murphy’s Law”. Eh? What the hell? You don’t need Murphy to tell you that a bunch of guys in any class, at any time, will be late. How fancy can a man get?
Annnyyyway, Murphy, it was nice knowing you. You might be right you know. For instance, I have a vague feeling, and there’s an imminent possibility, of this article being thrown into the trash by whosoever reads it. It probably will. But, whether or not Murphy Man’s law works is for the reader to decide. Come on, you, let’s prove Murphy Man wrong! ;)
In the middle of all this hubbub regarding right and wrong, let’s take some time out invoke the Almighty’s blessing with the means of a prayer. Oh, wait, that might go wrong. I have a FEELING that something might go wrong. Let’s not. Let’s all be atheists and live in cautious apathy all our lives! Sounds like a plan! High-five, slap on the back, a smirk and an iron-handshake (with an unsaid wiggle of the huge backside)! Congratulations, you’ve mastered the art of the Kiung-fiung-jiung handshake.
Coming back to the point, Murphy’s Law. Who is this Murphy fellow anyway, and WHY on earth is he such a pessimist? I bet something really tragic happened when he was teeny-tiny, and that kind of scarred him for the rest of his, and our, blessed lifetime. Piss the pain away, Murphy. Piss it away.
Murphy’s Law has a weird way of working. It claims that bad things tend to slyly creep up right behind you and poke you in the rib and stick its tongue out at you and say “Looooossserrrr”, and here’s the cherry on the cake- All this, when you’re already expecting them to happen! Jesus! I mean, how sad is this, eh? You know you’re going to fall into a pit of mould and rotten leftover broth, and you do! Yeah, because THAT makes me feel like an augur! Ta-daa! Magic! *All my wishes have come true, and I am dreamy eyed*. Oh, give me a break. Seriously.
Let me now tell you a story. It’s one of those fairy tales, you see. Enchanting.
Once upon a time, there lived Mr. Murphy. Mr. Murphy came back home from work and sat down to read the newspaper. Mr. Murphy tried reading the paper, but Mr. Murphy was certain that something was going to go wrong. He was sure of the fact that the paper was going to deceive his instincts and his abilities and that the newspaper was going to push-and-pull his sensory endowments and make him go crazy. He also felt that something else was going to happen-something dark, evil and downright sleazy!
And so, it happened. As Mr. Murphy sipped his faithful cup of coffee, and tried to swallow the chunks of news thrown at him by the tabloid, his mind went blank. A draft hit his empty head and his head was diagnosed as suffering from pneumonia. Okay, that was a slight exaggeration. (Or, not) The letters in the newspaper seemed to lose their form and were mingling into one huge blob of black, in a conspiracy against him. They seemed like daggers and swords, waging a dirty war against him! Eeeesh! He blamed it on irresponsible media and turned another page. This time, the words danced all over the page and he was convinced it was magic! Another page convinced him of his having bought a foreign newspaper. Yes, it was BAD. Never before were his levels of comprehension this low. They seemed to have hit rock-bottom and were sinking lower and lower with each turn of the page. At one point, Murphy was convinced that the words had formed a chain and were parading naked around the room only to imitate a snake and scare him away. Not only was their structure eerie, but so was their content! The enormity of language intimidated him for the very first time! Animalistic tendencies overtaking the multifarious supersonicamorous retrodynamic shmooglecapability savannahanimalharrowingmadness. Ha. Beat that!
Unable to grasp the intensity of the insanity that left him indisposed, Murphy went on to the nicer things in life-Mrs. Murphy. Mrs. Murphy, a shrewd nagging man of a lady had a lot of issues. The moment he went to cuddle up to her, and tell her that he loved her, she kicked Murphy out of the house. Murphy always knew this was going to happen the day he decided to get married to her. He ignored this premonition and believed in goodness, who, eventually, betrayed his balls. Hence, Murphy justified himself by saying that ‘Aal was well’ and that he always KNEW something was going to go haywire, but he didn’t mind taking the goddamned plunge. So much for chivalry.
With nothing more to do, and with the intent of venting, Murphy Macho sat down to work. Unable to concentrate, and unable to get that ‘wet’ feeling out of himself, he decided to do something for the well-being of the society at large. He created the Murphy’s Laws. He also added that the Murphy Laws adhere to positive and cheerful situations as well, but like that’s going to happen!
Murphy, Murphy. Darling Murphy, what have you got against us poor souls? So, you had a bad day, so you had a bad marriage. Tsk, tsk, does that mean you get all charged and come up with a wacky theory that rules the life of many later on? The other day, I had a feeling I was going to inflate, like a balloon, and roam the skies. Naah, honey, it was sheer gas.
Then again, I look around, and I see Murphy Man ruling the psyche of many a person! The other day, a Prof said “You guys have come late, I expected this. Murphy’s Law”. Eh? What the hell? You don’t need Murphy to tell you that a bunch of guys in any class, at any time, will be late. How fancy can a man get?
Annnyyyway, Murphy, it was nice knowing you. You might be right you know. For instance, I have a vague feeling, and there’s an imminent possibility, of this article being thrown into the trash by whosoever reads it. It probably will. But, whether or not Murphy Man’s law works is for the reader to decide. Come on, you, let’s prove Murphy Man wrong! ;)
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Happy Is a Yuppy Word
I am spent. I am spent and tired of fighting a lost battle against blues. I mean, what's the point? These veiled ghosts of sadness just seem to lurk at every corner of the road! Rowling's depiction of 'Dementors' is so perfect! Yes, babies, that is how I perceive unhappiness, and I am not ashamed of that! They're bloody, filthy, slimy creatures who suck on your happiness till their sadism is satiated!
Then again, the enlightened say, "Ignore them, you just be happy"
Aw, come on! How can you be happy? Is happiness a pill that you ingest? Is happiness a candy to suck on? Is happiness a pink umbrella that I can carry, to prevent the harshness of the mean Sun from getting to me? Is happiness a product for sale on EBay? Is happiness on my blog (definitely not)?
Tell me, what is this wondrous, ephemeral, or eternal, spring of joy that emanates from the bottom a rocky world- called happiness? And how do I win it?
Several attempts, by many a person have left Mankind clueless as to the answer to this universal question. Happiness has been sought in literature, in music, in dance, in art, in science, in God! And yet, nothing worked! Where does this butterfly live? Where does it hide? Why does it fly only once-a-while and glimmer through the alleys of life like a faraway dream? A mirage, almost. AN OPTICAL ILLUSION! That's what happiness is...NOT.
I am perplexed! I am distraught! I am moved! I am defeated! Yet again, I ask myself, why am I not happy?
Then again, the enlightened say, "Ignore them, you just be happy"
Aw, come on! How can you be happy? Is happiness a pill that you ingest? Is happiness a candy to suck on? Is happiness a pink umbrella that I can carry, to prevent the harshness of the mean Sun from getting to me? Is happiness a product for sale on EBay? Is happiness on my blog (definitely not)?
Tell me, what is this wondrous, ephemeral, or eternal, spring of joy that emanates from the bottom a rocky world- called happiness? And how do I win it?
Several attempts, by many a person have left Mankind clueless as to the answer to this universal question. Happiness has been sought in literature, in music, in dance, in art, in science, in God! And yet, nothing worked! Where does this butterfly live? Where does it hide? Why does it fly only once-a-while and glimmer through the alleys of life like a faraway dream? A mirage, almost. AN OPTICAL ILLUSION! That's what happiness is...NOT.
I am perplexed! I am distraught! I am moved! I am defeated! Yet again, I ask myself, why am I not happy?
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
My bed time story
You're nice enough to inquire about my dreams,
wish you were nice enough to tear my head apart,
and delve into that realm of unconsciousness
that awaits your arrival every sleeping moment.
Wish you could slither into the niches of fantasy,
and perceive what I can see with my eyes closed.
The land of peace and pain that coexist,
and the feeling of togetherness despite distance.
The shimmer of love that gleams with pride in my eye,
and the darkness of exotica that lurks in every eyelash.
Nocturnal delight is dripping with sensuality,
and the grip of sleep is refusing to loosen.
Come, O dear, hold my hand and come with me!
And we shall journey through the endless time,
to an endless space, for an endless love.
wish you were nice enough to tear my head apart,
and delve into that realm of unconsciousness
that awaits your arrival every sleeping moment.
Wish you could slither into the niches of fantasy,
and perceive what I can see with my eyes closed.
The land of peace and pain that coexist,
and the feeling of togetherness despite distance.
The shimmer of love that gleams with pride in my eye,
and the darkness of exotica that lurks in every eyelash.
Nocturnal delight is dripping with sensuality,
and the grip of sleep is refusing to loosen.
Come, O dear, hold my hand and come with me!
And we shall journey through the endless time,
to an endless space, for an endless love.
A random thought
The shards of a broken illusion
reflected a pretty world.
What illusion, but a neat mirror,
could be broken anyway?
Vanity had been obliterated,
and the pride had bled.
The stench of the carcass of malady,
pervading the health of a glorious life.
reflected a pretty world.
What illusion, but a neat mirror,
could be broken anyway?
Vanity had been obliterated,
and the pride had bled.
The stench of the carcass of malady,
pervading the health of a glorious life.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Happy Holi, said she.
Holi is a hell lot of fun, Manjari Shankar claims. You should hear her gush excitedly about her favourite festival ( at this juncture, she might just pointedly correct me and lay favouritism to another festival. Who knows? It is Manjari.). Anyway, I am assuming it is her favourite festival since she sees no end to the sheer 'fun' in Holi.
"The colours, the 'masti', the noise! I can't wait for Holi!", she squeaks quite often nowadays. Of course. The colours, the NOISE! I mean, how can one want to miss out on THAT? How often do we encounter noise in our country, anyway? Hardly! Tsk, tsk..
When attacked with sarcasm regarding her wacky liking for Holi, she loses no time in engaging me, and a few fortunate others, in an amusing anecdote of her 'Bombay friends' and herself, regarding the countless 'Holi'days she's spent ( I shall refrain using 'celebrated' owing to personal prejudice) in Mumbai.
"In Bombay, na, my friends and I used to play Holi for hours together, smear dark wet colours all over our bodies, throw pails of coloured water over each other, throw eggs at each other, and balloons, too! We used to dance like there's no tomorrow and would just not want Holi to end. Ever. Anyway, once we would decide to take a break, na, we'd go to this apartment nearby. That apartment, na, had showers in its parking lot and we'd all rush in, push each other and fight in order to clean ourselves! So much crowd, na, baba! Great fun it used to be! Really! SO much fun, SO many people! I want to go to Bombay now, yaar..." I lost track after that. I heard some rambling by Pratyusha regarding how she used to play Holi with her friends in Calcutta for hours and play even after cleaning up. Something about 'mamma ka kheer' also cropped up, I distinctly remember. The 'Mamma ka kheer' is, of course, not liable to any comments from me. We all know how homesick people from Bengal and other faraway places can get when studying in Madras.
Barring that one exception, I am quite bemused by my friends! I never knew the clutter, lack of space, lack of privacy and isolation, and sheer clamour and cacophony had so many takers! Wow! I mean, would you look at that!? "We used to push each other to have a bath" , but that's okay! It's holi! Of course. Why would ANYONE mind?
I fail to understand this affinity that a majority of people in my country have for this boisterous festival! However, I am merely charmed by their affection towards it. It is so 'Indian', our beloved festival! The togetherness, the variety and diversity of sweets, the bhaang, the touching-of-bodies, (quite dissimilar to what happens in the country on all other days...or is it?), the melody of 'Rang Barse' that fills in the air, and the sheer resplendence!
In this populated and popular festivity, what can one do but smile, grit one's own teeth, and gladly accept the pail of pink water being jestingly thrown at your from four storeys above? Almost feels like some 'fun', doesn't it?
P.S.- I am quite lucky to be in this southern metropolitan! Apparently, the rush of Holi least affects my no-non-sense city. Whee.
"The colours, the 'masti', the noise! I can't wait for Holi!", she squeaks quite often nowadays. Of course. The colours, the NOISE! I mean, how can one want to miss out on THAT? How often do we encounter noise in our country, anyway? Hardly! Tsk, tsk..
When attacked with sarcasm regarding her wacky liking for Holi, she loses no time in engaging me, and a few fortunate others, in an amusing anecdote of her 'Bombay friends' and herself, regarding the countless 'Holi'days she's spent ( I shall refrain using 'celebrated' owing to personal prejudice) in Mumbai.
"In Bombay, na, my friends and I used to play Holi for hours together, smear dark wet colours all over our bodies, throw pails of coloured water over each other, throw eggs at each other, and balloons, too! We used to dance like there's no tomorrow and would just not want Holi to end. Ever. Anyway, once we would decide to take a break, na, we'd go to this apartment nearby. That apartment, na, had showers in its parking lot and we'd all rush in, push each other and fight in order to clean ourselves! So much crowd, na, baba! Great fun it used to be! Really! SO much fun, SO many people! I want to go to Bombay now, yaar..." I lost track after that. I heard some rambling by Pratyusha regarding how she used to play Holi with her friends in Calcutta for hours and play even after cleaning up. Something about 'mamma ka kheer' also cropped up, I distinctly remember. The 'Mamma ka kheer' is, of course, not liable to any comments from me. We all know how homesick people from Bengal and other faraway places can get when studying in Madras.
Barring that one exception, I am quite bemused by my friends! I never knew the clutter, lack of space, lack of privacy and isolation, and sheer clamour and cacophony had so many takers! Wow! I mean, would you look at that!? "We used to push each other to have a bath" , but that's okay! It's holi! Of course. Why would ANYONE mind?
I fail to understand this affinity that a majority of people in my country have for this boisterous festival! However, I am merely charmed by their affection towards it. It is so 'Indian', our beloved festival! The togetherness, the variety and diversity of sweets, the bhaang, the touching-of-bodies, (quite dissimilar to what happens in the country on all other days...or is it?), the melody of 'Rang Barse' that fills in the air, and the sheer resplendence!
In this populated and popular festivity, what can one do but smile, grit one's own teeth, and gladly accept the pail of pink water being jestingly thrown at your from four storeys above? Almost feels like some 'fun', doesn't it?
P.S.- I am quite lucky to be in this southern metropolitan! Apparently, the rush of Holi least affects my no-non-sense city. Whee.
Weights and Measures
I'm quite sick of arbitrary expressions. Why can't there be precision in conveying certain meanings? Why can't there be a pretty measuring tape, or a weighing machine, or even a ruler, to measure how much one loves, hates, envies, yearns, etc. When you say that you love me, why is there no possibility of taking that love, pouring it into a scientific beaker and comparing it with the love you profess for someone else? Why is it incomparable, relative and so abstruse?! I would kill to know the exactness of every emotion hurled at me; the scientific correctness of every sentiment toward me; the sheer measure of every meaning. I mean, what does "I want this SO bad" mean? Or, "I love you more than you can ever imagine!"? Or even, "Argh, I hate her from the bottom of my heart, screw her!" mean? IS there any way of knowing exactly how much you want, love or hate? I know this is impossible. It doesn't make it beautiful, no. Just lends emotion a glimmer of enigma and makes it seem all important and special. Ah, the glory. Somehow, funnily, mystery has always fascinated most people. The prospect of surprise, of concealed truths, of hidden meanings and true love looms ahead, like a carrot on a stick, while we, like mere donkeys, surge our heads forward and try grabbing our prize. There's no prize for us, though. Just a life full of its silly secrets and mean surprises.
Small Wonder
I've been an observer for a while now. I've noticed patterns, designs and insinuations where there are apparently "none". Don't get me wrong, but sometimes nobody else seems to see my point! Well, it does please me when I see that happen since it makes me feel mildly different and 'crazy', and who wouldn't want to be 'crazy', right?
Anyway, the point is that taking care of the smallest hurdles in life is much more taxing and challenging than tackling 'huger' issues. For instance, try waking up in the morning with a broad smile. Quite hard. Almost all of us have a grumpy, gruff expression that easily relays "Why, why, WHY do I have to wake up now?". Other extremely proactive minds are already on their way contemplating bunking class or planning their sleep-schedule for the day.
Take another instance. Sheer temptation. A temptation to grab that luscious piece of chocolate cake in front of you and just satiate your soul with its dripping delight; A temptation to just take a 'look' at the answer sheet of the person sitting next to you; a temptation to merely hack your beloved's account and go through his/her personal mail and details; a temptation to ignore the possibility of others being right and you, yourself, being terribly mistaken; a temptation of surrendering yourself to the twists and turns of destiny, and still not admitting it; a temptation to take that plunge and kill yourself. All these temptations we, generally, give in to.
On the other hand, persist the BIGGER issues. Climate change, Population Explosion, Wars, Presidential Elections, Unemployment, Financial Crises, Political Hubbub, etc. Well, at least SOMEthing is being done about the aforesaid. There are panels, discussions, agendas, debates, drafts, controversies, arrests, criminal charges, pacts, treaties, understandings, protests, and so much more activity in this area. Why? Uh, obviously! These are MAJOR problems, all right? They are the 'in' things, and issues that need to be addressed right away. One MUST be global, and not stuck in that personal shell of his/her own. Think broad, think global.
Of course, both of these need our attention and our wholesome involvement in tackling them. But, yes, it is BOTH of these issues that we need to address. The latter might seem to be the dominant issue, but that is a mere illusion.
All I am trying to say is that little things matter. They might not seem to be huge issues, but resolving these issues is what makes a HUGE difference.
It's not as easy as it seems, and ignoring them won't make it any easier.
P.S.- I do not know the point of this piece of writing. I just wanted to write. See, it's a small little thing. I wanted to write. Not about Climate Change, but about an inconsequential matter, which to me, is of paramount fascination. So, I did.
Anyway, the point is that taking care of the smallest hurdles in life is much more taxing and challenging than tackling 'huger' issues. For instance, try waking up in the morning with a broad smile. Quite hard. Almost all of us have a grumpy, gruff expression that easily relays "Why, why, WHY do I have to wake up now?". Other extremely proactive minds are already on their way contemplating bunking class or planning their sleep-schedule for the day.
Take another instance. Sheer temptation. A temptation to grab that luscious piece of chocolate cake in front of you and just satiate your soul with its dripping delight; A temptation to just take a 'look' at the answer sheet of the person sitting next to you; a temptation to merely hack your beloved's account and go through his/her personal mail and details; a temptation to ignore the possibility of others being right and you, yourself, being terribly mistaken; a temptation of surrendering yourself to the twists and turns of destiny, and still not admitting it; a temptation to take that plunge and kill yourself. All these temptations we, generally, give in to.
On the other hand, persist the BIGGER issues. Climate change, Population Explosion, Wars, Presidential Elections, Unemployment, Financial Crises, Political Hubbub, etc. Well, at least SOMEthing is being done about the aforesaid. There are panels, discussions, agendas, debates, drafts, controversies, arrests, criminal charges, pacts, treaties, understandings, protests, and so much more activity in this area. Why? Uh, obviously! These are MAJOR problems, all right? They are the 'in' things, and issues that need to be addressed right away. One MUST be global, and not stuck in that personal shell of his/her own. Think broad, think global.
Of course, both of these need our attention and our wholesome involvement in tackling them. But, yes, it is BOTH of these issues that we need to address. The latter might seem to be the dominant issue, but that is a mere illusion.
All I am trying to say is that little things matter. They might not seem to be huge issues, but resolving these issues is what makes a HUGE difference.
It's not as easy as it seems, and ignoring them won't make it any easier.
P.S.- I do not know the point of this piece of writing. I just wanted to write. See, it's a small little thing. I wanted to write. Not about Climate Change, but about an inconsequential matter, which to me, is of paramount fascination. So, I did.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
She
And I don't like her. She is bad.
Her sheer presence makes me mad.
And I don't know whether I should rhyme?
I use a face-wash that's got thyme.
Coming back to the point, she's a bitch.
In my M&B story, she's the only hitch.
Oft she interferes in vital affairs,
though she knows that no one really cares,
and yet, she dares! She dares!
When I find her in front of me,
politeness is not what I shall be.
Instead she'll be confronted with Satan,
who is armed with both- a fork and a baton!
Oh, she's not a pretty sight, that one.
No one will ask her to 'Come Undone'.
And even if she does, we'll throw her away,
and move on to a finer life, a finer day!
Amen.
Her sheer presence makes me mad.
And I don't know whether I should rhyme?
I use a face-wash that's got thyme.
Coming back to the point, she's a bitch.
In my M&B story, she's the only hitch.
Oft she interferes in vital affairs,
though she knows that no one really cares,
and yet, she dares! She dares!
When I find her in front of me,
politeness is not what I shall be.
Instead she'll be confronted with Satan,
who is armed with both- a fork and a baton!
Oh, she's not a pretty sight, that one.
No one will ask her to 'Come Undone'.
And even if she does, we'll throw her away,
and move on to a finer life, a finer day!
Amen.
Of sleep and disturbances
I dreamt a dream last night,
and quite a queer dream it was.
Not of angels and the dreamy Heaven,
but of dirty scum and wanton thugs.
In my dream, there lay austerity,
and in that austerity, my dream.
For some nasty reason, I enjoyed myself.
An odd buzz of disturbance ensued,
and I woke up to nature's precocious call.
Damn the timing, Damn it all!
I want to enter my dream again,
I want it to pervade my slumber;
Yet, there comes naught but failure,
as I try to conjure the hazy illusion.
As vacant as Freud's mind, is mine.
And I am reminded of patience.
And the dullness leads to a sweet sleep,
unbroken by an untimely bathroom break.
and quite a queer dream it was.
Not of angels and the dreamy Heaven,
but of dirty scum and wanton thugs.
In my dream, there lay austerity,
and in that austerity, my dream.
For some nasty reason, I enjoyed myself.
An odd buzz of disturbance ensued,
and I woke up to nature's precocious call.
Damn the timing, Damn it all!
I want to enter my dream again,
I want it to pervade my slumber;
Yet, there comes naught but failure,
as I try to conjure the hazy illusion.
As vacant as Freud's mind, is mine.
And I am reminded of patience.
And the dullness leads to a sweet sleep,
unbroken by an untimely bathroom break.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
My love
A smile that flirted with his fine lips,
caught red-handed by the glorious rays,
spread across the sombre, cloudy sky,
over which had fallen the veil of darkness.
I watched my life smile comfortingly at me,
I replayed the image in the mirror of my mind,
and watched the reflection sketch a miracle!
Where can such truth be found, tell me?
Where can such bottomless love crouch and hide?
In the thin niches of the transient present,
there appeared a fleeting mirage of ecstasy.
I swished my magic wand, so sweet!
Poof! My petty illusion met reality!
caught red-handed by the glorious rays,
spread across the sombre, cloudy sky,
over which had fallen the veil of darkness.
I watched my life smile comfortingly at me,
I replayed the image in the mirror of my mind,
and watched the reflection sketch a miracle!
Where can such truth be found, tell me?
Where can such bottomless love crouch and hide?
In the thin niches of the transient present,
there appeared a fleeting mirage of ecstasy.
I swished my magic wand, so sweet!
Poof! My petty illusion met reality!
My boy
He walked the winding roads of simplicity,
and sailed in the most placid of lakes,
My boy had a tender, young heart in his chest,
that longed to kiss the warmth of sunshine!
He trotted and jogged from dawn to dusk,
and closed his eyes awaiting sweet dawn again!
Then, one day, he found a shining rock.
It reminded him of his father's heart.
In his closed fist, it lay so precious!
Against his own heart, he held it proud.
The hue of darkness in the rock-comforting.
That was his own reflection, my dear.
A wandering, twinkling star, dear child of mine,
shone bright against the charred sky of destiny.
and sailed in the most placid of lakes,
My boy had a tender, young heart in his chest,
that longed to kiss the warmth of sunshine!
He trotted and jogged from dawn to dusk,
and closed his eyes awaiting sweet dawn again!
Then, one day, he found a shining rock.
It reminded him of his father's heart.
In his closed fist, it lay so precious!
Against his own heart, he held it proud.
The hue of darkness in the rock-comforting.
That was his own reflection, my dear.
A wandering, twinkling star, dear child of mine,
shone bright against the charred sky of destiny.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Unfortunate
Her face, a dark sketch of pain,
looked up to him for a salve.
He looked away, and gulped hard,
trying to suppress the rising bile.
The deluge of tears in her eyes,
threatening to flood her pretty face,
and he stood there, clutching his pride,
while the rest of us cringed with agony.
Her silky hair whooshed like a cape,
when she turned around in exasperation.
Her eyes conveyed the hurt of the heart,
mingled with the shards of a prickly dream.
Her resolve to be unaffected drowned in pain,
and the excuse of love bid a shallow goodbye.
He, too, was lost in this maze of filth,
and he, too, found this feeling enigmatic.
No sympathy he discovered, though, ever,
and his pain died another death in his heart.
The rift, that had cropped up, broadened,
and she fell into it, while he simply watched.
looked up to him for a salve.
He looked away, and gulped hard,
trying to suppress the rising bile.
The deluge of tears in her eyes,
threatening to flood her pretty face,
and he stood there, clutching his pride,
while the rest of us cringed with agony.
Her silky hair whooshed like a cape,
when she turned around in exasperation.
Her eyes conveyed the hurt of the heart,
mingled with the shards of a prickly dream.
Her resolve to be unaffected drowned in pain,
and the excuse of love bid a shallow goodbye.
He, too, was lost in this maze of filth,
and he, too, found this feeling enigmatic.
No sympathy he discovered, though, ever,
and his pain died another death in his heart.
The rift, that had cropped up, broadened,
and she fell into it, while he simply watched.
The White Lice
In the dark recess of her tresses,
Lay the tiny specimen- a couple of white lice.
They crawled their way in and out,
And thrived on her prized scarlet.
Unions they formed, they stood so strong,
And displayed inane arrogance!
Learning to sing, learning to dance,
They hopped their way through Ebony.
Growing in number, an imminent risk,
They found their way on many a head!
The masses demanded representation,
And so the King formed a Parliament.
Discussions were held and laws were made,
And tere were many a strike and protest.
Democracy- the new haven for white lice.
They bred everywhere unabashedly,
And lived unhappily ever after.
And THAT, my dear, was a colony of white lice.
Or, white lies.
Same difference.
Lay the tiny specimen- a couple of white lice.
They crawled their way in and out,
And thrived on her prized scarlet.
Unions they formed, they stood so strong,
And displayed inane arrogance!
Learning to sing, learning to dance,
They hopped their way through Ebony.
Growing in number, an imminent risk,
They found their way on many a head!
The masses demanded representation,
And so the King formed a Parliament.
Discussions were held and laws were made,
And tere were many a strike and protest.
Democracy- the new haven for white lice.
They bred everywhere unabashedly,
And lived unhappily ever after.
And THAT, my dear, was a colony of white lice.
Or, white lies.
Same difference.
Insomnia
The Canvas of dreams lay vacant.
No hue of the night appeared.
Colorless and dead-the violet sky.
The cherubs of sleep nowhere in sight,
As the demon of darkness shut the door.
The hallucination of a vague dream,
And eyelids that refused to lie.
Slumber slumber, where were you?
(Ride on a horse, come, take me away!)
The hours ticked away to eternity,
And time lay splattered across the night.
No matter the deathly stillness,
No matter the haunting loneliness.
Deprived of solace, I lay in my bed,
And begged the rustle of the leaves,
to sing me a lullaby and rock me to sleep.
No hue of the night appeared.
Colorless and dead-the violet sky.
The cherubs of sleep nowhere in sight,
As the demon of darkness shut the door.
The hallucination of a vague dream,
And eyelids that refused to lie.
Slumber slumber, where were you?
(Ride on a horse, come, take me away!)
The hours ticked away to eternity,
And time lay splattered across the night.
No matter the deathly stillness,
No matter the haunting loneliness.
Deprived of solace, I lay in my bed,
And begged the rustle of the leaves,
to sing me a lullaby and rock me to sleep.
Monday, February 8, 2010
And a new beginning
Hello, all.
I have decided to turn this only-for-poetry blog into maybe-a-random-article blog now. I do not guarantee too many articles as I am not articulate enough, and I absolutely adore poetry. Anyway, for now, here's something you might want to thrust your opinions on: Whether, or not, I can succeed in my attempt at prose and non-poetic stuff?
Don't shower me with too much condemnation, it'll just break my mighty heart. :)
If you don't like what I write now on, or if you've never liked what I've written...
Keep it to yourself, okay?
Good.
I have decided to turn this only-for-poetry blog into maybe-a-random-article blog now. I do not guarantee too many articles as I am not articulate enough, and I absolutely adore poetry. Anyway, for now, here's something you might want to thrust your opinions on: Whether, or not, I can succeed in my attempt at prose and non-poetic stuff?
Don't shower me with too much condemnation, it'll just break my mighty heart. :)
If you don't like what I write now on, or if you've never liked what I've written...
Keep it to yourself, okay?
Good.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Un-together.
Under the wide wings of the Banyan Tree,
you told me the tales of a glorious past.
Of wonders, thrills and disappointments.
I listened, with wonder, and part-boredom.
The debt of a friend had to be paid.
A flinch, here and there, time and again.
Yet, the drops of a Heaven Gone lay frozen.
Warmth spread to their frigid hearts,
and behold! Here comes a river!
Bringing with it, ashes of the past.
A veil of concern and a facade of care.
An eternity of nursing brought you back.
And yet, there lingered a sickly stench.
Aroma therapy doubled-up and wailed,
while sickness and fatigue budged not.
Nothing works, except a divine salve;
Go, fetch the hemlock, I care not!
Go, fetch the thorns of reality, no bother!
Bring home the chaos of War, I shall fight!
Keep those florid words to yourself,
for they mean naught. They never did.
you told me the tales of a glorious past.
Of wonders, thrills and disappointments.
I listened, with wonder, and part-boredom.
The debt of a friend had to be paid.
A flinch, here and there, time and again.
Yet, the drops of a Heaven Gone lay frozen.
Warmth spread to their frigid hearts,
and behold! Here comes a river!
Bringing with it, ashes of the past.
A veil of concern and a facade of care.
An eternity of nursing brought you back.
And yet, there lingered a sickly stench.
Aroma therapy doubled-up and wailed,
while sickness and fatigue budged not.
Nothing works, except a divine salve;
Go, fetch the hemlock, I care not!
Go, fetch the thorns of reality, no bother!
Bring home the chaos of War, I shall fight!
Keep those florid words to yourself,
for they mean naught. They never did.
Trance
A swing, and the weighty bat comes down hard.
On that slouch of a balding character!
How dare he encroach upon my territory?
Intrepid, that pesky little Mr.Thumbelina!
Trodding alongside the Line Of No Control,
and prodding the fraying rope that lay,
he pranced about, in and out-A challenge, eh?
A kick on the shin, a limp 'Ow'. Rest in Peace.
Up, once again, and round-eyed with wonder,
An air of a prince that housed his torn pride,
A watchful glance down the shady lane,
And we're back to being what we are!
A jesting look, and a peeping tongue,
and all the care in the world in a heap.
The heap that was lifted in my arms, O precious,
and scattered across the ripples of the ocean.
(And, secretly swore a thousand curses,
at that wretched filth called Mankind)
On that slouch of a balding character!
How dare he encroach upon my territory?
Intrepid, that pesky little Mr.Thumbelina!
Trodding alongside the Line Of No Control,
and prodding the fraying rope that lay,
he pranced about, in and out-A challenge, eh?
A kick on the shin, a limp 'Ow'. Rest in Peace.
Up, once again, and round-eyed with wonder,
An air of a prince that housed his torn pride,
A watchful glance down the shady lane,
And we're back to being what we are!
A jesting look, and a peeping tongue,
and all the care in the world in a heap.
The heap that was lifted in my arms, O precious,
and scattered across the ripples of the ocean.
(And, secretly swore a thousand curses,
at that wretched filth called Mankind)
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
A lost cause
A whiff of a moist laugh,
a slinky whip of a tongue,
Came forward a strand of hair,
curled up on a crumpled sheet.
Lay peacefully a quiet slumber,
that dreams a burning portrait!
Sucked into a dark hollow,
resting in peace so divine,
A flying slash of crimson,
and a twisted yellow noodle.
A thin wall of distance,
and you are far away from me,
drifting away into your world,
a world devoid of evil,
and a world devoid of me!
a slinky whip of a tongue,
Came forward a strand of hair,
curled up on a crumpled sheet.
Lay peacefully a quiet slumber,
that dreams a burning portrait!
Sucked into a dark hollow,
resting in peace so divine,
A flying slash of crimson,
and a twisted yellow noodle.
A thin wall of distance,
and you are far away from me,
drifting away into your world,
a world devoid of evil,
and a world devoid of me!
The bouquet of beauty
In full bloom, they arrived at my doorstep.
A lovely sight, with their pouted mouths,
and their adorable purple snobbishness.
Streaked with seductive hues and freshness,
assembled in succulent foliage, they smiled.
And I swear one of them batted her eyelids!
Sent as a mark of remembrance, and apology,
they seemed not worthy of being unforgiven.
The surging life in their delicate being,
just a reminder of the rotting corpse within.
And the dew set upon their dainty petals,
similar to the growing mist in my watching eyes.
Only love could prompt their onerous journey,
and love could embrace their fresh fragrance.
A pang in my heart, as I recall the past.
And my silliness, wasted on their resplendence.
I bent down on one knee, and bowed my head;
and muttered a sad apology to beauty and peace.
A lovely sight, with their pouted mouths,
and their adorable purple snobbishness.
Streaked with seductive hues and freshness,
assembled in succulent foliage, they smiled.
And I swear one of them batted her eyelids!
Sent as a mark of remembrance, and apology,
they seemed not worthy of being unforgiven.
The surging life in their delicate being,
just a reminder of the rotting corpse within.
And the dew set upon their dainty petals,
similar to the growing mist in my watching eyes.
Only love could prompt their onerous journey,
and love could embrace their fresh fragrance.
A pang in my heart, as I recall the past.
And my silliness, wasted on their resplendence.
I bent down on one knee, and bowed my head;
and muttered a sad apology to beauty and peace.
Fatigue
An exhaustion tip-toes without a sound,
as the bells of numbness clang aloud.
A flicker of freshness amidst the mildew,
and a growing urge to double-up and cry.
The pain of enervation is more than skin-deep,
the way it clings to you, refusing to let go.
With determination it gnaws at your wakefulness,
threatening to toss you into a sweet slumber.
And then again, a reason to stay awake.
Once again, a compromise too tempting.
A sacrifice made, in the soundest of sleep,
just to finish this business of a life.
as the bells of numbness clang aloud.
A flicker of freshness amidst the mildew,
and a growing urge to double-up and cry.
The pain of enervation is more than skin-deep,
the way it clings to you, refusing to let go.
With determination it gnaws at your wakefulness,
threatening to toss you into a sweet slumber.
And then again, a reason to stay awake.
Once again, a compromise too tempting.
A sacrifice made, in the soundest of sleep,
just to finish this business of a life.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Waiting
A thousand breaths that came and went,
A frustration that calmly jogged along,
a flower bloomed, and wilted to death,
and then a few footsteps nudged me hard.
A lonely glance perched upon some hope,
and a silent spring of anticipation.
A stoic wait that lasted an eternity,
and a promise that was never redeemed,
For you, O latecomer, I shall wait.
And wait as long as you live.
And once you die, I shall shed a tear,
and walk the same paths as you,
and I shall hope to see you around.
Sometime.
A frustration that calmly jogged along,
a flower bloomed, and wilted to death,
and then a few footsteps nudged me hard.
A lonely glance perched upon some hope,
and a silent spring of anticipation.
A stoic wait that lasted an eternity,
and a promise that was never redeemed,
For you, O latecomer, I shall wait.
And wait as long as you live.
And once you die, I shall shed a tear,
and walk the same paths as you,
and I shall hope to see you around.
Sometime.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Flames
A splash of a deathly hue in vain,
and the sleek sickle played too foul,
as it met innocence's throbbing vein.
A cry of desperation lit up the walls,
and a portrait of disdain shone!
I placed a hand before the brightness,
and darkness danced on the curtain of light!
A slow trance, like a feather, fell,
and silence roared in its highest tenor!
He stood there flocked by contemplation,
and a burning heart in his broad chest.
And yet, while his heart got roasted,
he endured the pain. Only to burn his life away.
Why did he not give up the blazing heart?
Why did he throw his life to the flames?
A cupful of errors and it all boiled over,
and leaped to the heart of eternal light.
and the sleek sickle played too foul,
as it met innocence's throbbing vein.
A cry of desperation lit up the walls,
and a portrait of disdain shone!
I placed a hand before the brightness,
and darkness danced on the curtain of light!
A slow trance, like a feather, fell,
and silence roared in its highest tenor!
He stood there flocked by contemplation,
and a burning heart in his broad chest.
And yet, while his heart got roasted,
he endured the pain. Only to burn his life away.
Why did he not give up the blazing heart?
Why did he throw his life to the flames?
A cupful of errors and it all boiled over,
and leaped to the heart of eternal light.
Monday, January 18, 2010
The friend
A strange sparkle in her brown eyes,
and a quiver that embraces her fine lips!
The freshness she emanates prances around,
and clings on to every passer-by!
Swinging her bag with utmost glee,
and shaking her head with mad certainty,
(to set right her middle-ear-fluid issues)
the girl dances to the tunes of life!
Constipated with joy, and even otherwise,
overcome with delicious fears, she is oft!
Breeze she is, and sometimes, the rain,
falling from the skies above to meet the earth!
Hopping and skipping, as she pleases!
What a wonder, Oh, what a wonder?
My friend she is, and will be forever,
and the insanity will catch me soon.
And I shall prance as carefree as her,
and become my own friend soon.
and a quiver that embraces her fine lips!
The freshness she emanates prances around,
and clings on to every passer-by!
Swinging her bag with utmost glee,
and shaking her head with mad certainty,
(to set right her middle-ear-fluid issues)
the girl dances to the tunes of life!
Constipated with joy, and even otherwise,
overcome with delicious fears, she is oft!
Breeze she is, and sometimes, the rain,
falling from the skies above to meet the earth!
Hopping and skipping, as she pleases!
What a wonder, Oh, what a wonder?
My friend she is, and will be forever,
and the insanity will catch me soon.
And I shall prance as carefree as her,
and become my own friend soon.
Ebony and Ivory
The dark tresses of her hair,
cling to each other effortlessly.
A matte of sorts, a portrait black,
and unnamed legend in the dark night.
Fondled softly by rough hands,
and kissed often by the river of blood.
An enigma that lasts for a moment,
till the curtain of darkness lifts,
and the beauty that lies beneath
knows no match for wilderness above.
The striking ivory remains tainted,
for the evils disappear in the dark,
but perish not on her pallid face.
cling to each other effortlessly.
A matte of sorts, a portrait black,
and unnamed legend in the dark night.
Fondled softly by rough hands,
and kissed often by the river of blood.
An enigma that lasts for a moment,
till the curtain of darkness lifts,
and the beauty that lies beneath
knows no match for wilderness above.
The striking ivory remains tainted,
for the evils disappear in the dark,
but perish not on her pallid face.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
The matters of the liver
A frenzied march from across the hall,
and a knight standing all too proud!
Where? Oh, where else!? In the hall!
Where's the princess? Where's the clown?
Missing, missing! Why, O why!?
A frantic search in the kingdom,
and hands that felt the sky above
in despair, or due to sweaty armpits?
Either way, we all give up!
Oh, wait! One more place to scrounge!
I put my hand on my bare chest and breathe!
Aha, there you are! You elusive crowd-puller!
Where's the princess, you clowned-up boy?
"She's gone to the liver, sire!", said he!
The liver! Oh, dear! Not the liver!
Breathe, she cannot, the odours there!
Couldn't she have settled for a tiny heart!?
"No, sire! She said she likes exotic sights"
Exotic, my foot! Exotic, my liver!
The cuticles on my body stand in attention,
as I grope for my liver.
A belch here and there, and nausea!
And, finally, the wriggling royal in my hands!
And I look at her 'faint' expression,
and a wave of love washes the stink away!
I shall fondle you for life, O dear!
And I shall cage you in my heart forever!
She awoke and smiled, and squeezed my bottom,
"Cage me in your liver, sire. I like."
All yours! ALL yours!
My bladder, my liver, my kidneys, my all!
P.S.-And tomorrow, if thou shalt like, you can live in my heart, too. :)
and a knight standing all too proud!
Where? Oh, where else!? In the hall!
Where's the princess? Where's the clown?
Missing, missing! Why, O why!?
A frantic search in the kingdom,
and hands that felt the sky above
in despair, or due to sweaty armpits?
Either way, we all give up!
Oh, wait! One more place to scrounge!
I put my hand on my bare chest and breathe!
Aha, there you are! You elusive crowd-puller!
Where's the princess, you clowned-up boy?
"She's gone to the liver, sire!", said he!
The liver! Oh, dear! Not the liver!
Breathe, she cannot, the odours there!
Couldn't she have settled for a tiny heart!?
"No, sire! She said she likes exotic sights"
Exotic, my foot! Exotic, my liver!
The cuticles on my body stand in attention,
as I grope for my liver.
A belch here and there, and nausea!
And, finally, the wriggling royal in my hands!
And I look at her 'faint' expression,
and a wave of love washes the stink away!
I shall fondle you for life, O dear!
And I shall cage you in my heart forever!
She awoke and smiled, and squeezed my bottom,
"Cage me in your liver, sire. I like."
All yours! ALL yours!
My bladder, my liver, my kidneys, my all!
P.S.-And tomorrow, if thou shalt like, you can live in my heart, too. :)
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Enough of the poetry!
Ok. So, I write. What do I write? Poetry, I humbly reply. Poetry? You call your random verses and stanzas 'poetry'? SERIOUSLY? Cheek, I say! Poetry requires a lot more. (On the other end, a cough can be heard. A cough that vaguely resembles a-p-p-a-r-e-n-t-l-y) One should possess the skill to make the words sway with each other in a continuous rhythm of rhyme and melody. And that skill, my dear, ought to be 'natural'. Ahem, without the inverted commas, please.
Look, I don't like this..this..swaying and the vulgar shaking-of-the-hips of my noble words, just so that i can sell my work to an avaricious reader! I am no prostitute, for Pete's sake! Dignity! Where has that aspect of writing gone? Sadofy in hell, you pompous freako!
Shut up, woman! Don't 'fy' me. Swaying of the words doesn't mean a crude cabaret, not that cabaret is at all skill-less. Try it sometime. I bet you can't even move your wretched toe! Shaking a leg, it seems! Presumption...!
Ahaan? Really? Well, in my defense, I think that poetry is a very personal art! If I do not want dancing harlots on my paper, and if I crave the straight-backed cavalry on my paper, so be it! This whole 'beauty in writing' is such a farce! Defying relativism and all that. I do what I like, I like what I do! Screw you! Oh, yes, I can swear whenever I want to! Don't give me any of that 'aesthetic' shit!
Sigh, well, all right! Do whatever! You babies call your writing 'liberal' and 'all inclusive'. Let me tell you, it's a shame! A stark blot of dark shame on the face of literature! Abstract writing, they say. What a fall, oh, what a fall! Had I the heart of pulp, I would cry!
Cheer up, you bozo, and move on!
No one gives a dime for an old fart like you. Big time. Should I say, period?
Look, I don't like this..this..swaying and the vulgar shaking-of-the-hips of my noble words, just so that i can sell my work to an avaricious reader! I am no prostitute, for Pete's sake! Dignity! Where has that aspect of writing gone? Sadofy in hell, you pompous freako!
Shut up, woman! Don't 'fy' me. Swaying of the words doesn't mean a crude cabaret, not that cabaret is at all skill-less. Try it sometime. I bet you can't even move your wretched toe! Shaking a leg, it seems! Presumption...!
Ahaan? Really? Well, in my defense, I think that poetry is a very personal art! If I do not want dancing harlots on my paper, and if I crave the straight-backed cavalry on my paper, so be it! This whole 'beauty in writing' is such a farce! Defying relativism and all that. I do what I like, I like what I do! Screw you! Oh, yes, I can swear whenever I want to! Don't give me any of that 'aesthetic' shit!
Sigh, well, all right! Do whatever! You babies call your writing 'liberal' and 'all inclusive'. Let me tell you, it's a shame! A stark blot of dark shame on the face of literature! Abstract writing, they say. What a fall, oh, what a fall! Had I the heart of pulp, I would cry!
Cheer up, you bozo, and move on!
No one gives a dime for an old fart like you. Big time. Should I say, period?
This one's for the wanderer.
Spotless white, a sudden shadow.
Turned to gray, my eternal light!
The last tango rang a distant memory,
and nostalgia bowed its last bow.
An encore was wanted, but a fair one.
The dusk too bright refused all light,
and I rested my bottom in darkness.
An endless wait, an endless breath,
that only seemed to last forever.
A flicker of a moment in life and time,
Just a flicker, and you are gone.
An endless wait, like the endless breath-
Never to return, never to return.
Turned to gray, my eternal light!
The last tango rang a distant memory,
and nostalgia bowed its last bow.
An encore was wanted, but a fair one.
The dusk too bright refused all light,
and I rested my bottom in darkness.
An endless wait, an endless breath,
that only seemed to last forever.
A flicker of a moment in life and time,
Just a flicker, and you are gone.
An endless wait, like the endless breath-
Never to return, never to return.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Penance
In bits and pieces lay stray memories,
and on the crumbling walls, your name.
The moulding edges of the walls, an ode
to the slow rotting of the Age.
A decade of separation, a mirror broke.
An ugly contraction of the beauty,
that crouched hidden in the shadows.
Shadows reflect not the treachery,
but only the goodness of the beasts!
What penance be offered to the past?
What would tempt my love to return?
Come back, from the shadows! Come!
No matter the treachery of a lifetime!
Return to me, my life! Return!
No matter how deep the scar!
and on the crumbling walls, your name.
The moulding edges of the walls, an ode
to the slow rotting of the Age.
A decade of separation, a mirror broke.
An ugly contraction of the beauty,
that crouched hidden in the shadows.
Shadows reflect not the treachery,
but only the goodness of the beasts!
What penance be offered to the past?
What would tempt my love to return?
Come back, from the shadows! Come!
No matter the treachery of a lifetime!
Return to me, my life! Return!
No matter how deep the scar!
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Romance!
Whoosh!The swish of Medusa's tresses,
A scary image that conquered blight!
Off went a humbug, chirpy and skipping,
and out came the owl, tear eyed!
The nocturnal prince blinked not,
and watched the dancing firefly.
A random spark here and there,
a pinprick of a dulcet clatter,
And the owl, suffused with love,
refused to close his eyes to the light!
A scary image that conquered blight!
Off went a humbug, chirpy and skipping,
and out came the owl, tear eyed!
The nocturnal prince blinked not,
and watched the dancing firefly.
A random spark here and there,
a pinprick of a dulcet clatter,
And the owl, suffused with love,
refused to close his eyes to the light!
Thursday, November 26, 2009
On Fire
The wide world that shut its doors on me,
seemed like a giant reflective vampire.
A vampire, that sucked not my blessed blood,
but the very roots of my insouciant being.
With all the pain, came threads of pleasure,
and I floated around happily for a little while,
twirling slowly in my little black dress.
I closed my eyes and felt wonder in the air.
With open arms, I embraced the radiance.
Burnt my hands, my open arms- the wretched flame!
I looked around, my world was on fire! Raging!
My blissful apathy took the weighty blame,
and I watched ignorance turn to dirty ash.
The mirrors on the walls reflected the chaos,
and I wondered how I could still see my reflection?
The flames seemed to resemble me. And you.
I stood in the middle, awaiting confrontation.
seemed like a giant reflective vampire.
A vampire, that sucked not my blessed blood,
but the very roots of my insouciant being.
With all the pain, came threads of pleasure,
and I floated around happily for a little while,
twirling slowly in my little black dress.
I closed my eyes and felt wonder in the air.
With open arms, I embraced the radiance.
Burnt my hands, my open arms- the wretched flame!
I looked around, my world was on fire! Raging!
My blissful apathy took the weighty blame,
and I watched ignorance turn to dirty ash.
The mirrors on the walls reflected the chaos,
and I wondered how I could still see my reflection?
The flames seemed to resemble me. And you.
I stood in the middle, awaiting confrontation.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Splash
Just when the hamster thinks the world would stand still,
his hopes turn into a pointless whirl of revolutions,
and he watches his vision blur into a splash of colors.
With the crimson shades of jealousy and anger leading the pack,
and the blues of diurnal life following suit. Rather sincerely.
The yellow of a few rays of honest sunshine that find their way,
into the omnipresent dark spaces of the capacious cage.
The hamster's smile, a broad white flash of light,
while a hidden sinister motive flaunts a deathly green.
The murkiness of life imbued in a dirty, dark brown.
And yet, his hazel eyes look so glorious in the sunlight.
When he collides with the broken bits of a certain milestone,
he shares a familiar tenor with their sheen and texture.
The medley of tongue and taste- a ballet of senses!
All the world, a bittersweet violet!
Or, is it purple? Indigo? Olive?
The sky, a morbid gray, a stark blue, a deathly red!
And the ocean, a thirsty empire of blues and greens!
Divinity, not a pearly white, but a fierce motley!
Divinity, a cuisine of contrasting tastes!
Divinity, an outburst of overriding emotions!
A volcano, a quake! A whole evolution of Man!
Tethered to a lifetime, stands a lone day!
Colourless, at first. Colourless, in the end.
his hopes turn into a pointless whirl of revolutions,
and he watches his vision blur into a splash of colors.
With the crimson shades of jealousy and anger leading the pack,
and the blues of diurnal life following suit. Rather sincerely.
The yellow of a few rays of honest sunshine that find their way,
into the omnipresent dark spaces of the capacious cage.
The hamster's smile, a broad white flash of light,
while a hidden sinister motive flaunts a deathly green.
The murkiness of life imbued in a dirty, dark brown.
And yet, his hazel eyes look so glorious in the sunlight.
When he collides with the broken bits of a certain milestone,
he shares a familiar tenor with their sheen and texture.
The medley of tongue and taste- a ballet of senses!
All the world, a bittersweet violet!
Or, is it purple? Indigo? Olive?
The sky, a morbid gray, a stark blue, a deathly red!
And the ocean, a thirsty empire of blues and greens!
Divinity, not a pearly white, but a fierce motley!
Divinity, a cuisine of contrasting tastes!
Divinity, an outburst of overriding emotions!
A volcano, a quake! A whole evolution of Man!
Tethered to a lifetime, stands a lone day!
Colourless, at first. Colourless, in the end.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
!!!
Rumble, mumble, toss and tumble!
Up and down, and came around,
this silly drop of water that sang
a song that cheered the gloom!
It screamed and squeaked,
merrily danced and leaped!
Across the oceans, across the sea,
It waded through all, to be free,
but found that it was bound!
Oh, silly hound! Silly, silly hound!
Rotund and stupid, just like cupid,
with an aim to cheer, drink some beer,
and loaf around with a ready dart,
to pierce my heart, O my dear heart!
Bounded from cloud to cloud,
get a life, for cryin' out loud!
You imbecile mutt, don't you strut,
and make a fool of yourself!
Don't let go of yourself! DON'T!
Bam! Thud! Crash! Boom!
There you go, I broke you.
And now I dance to triumph!
A little jerk, a little step!
A little sway, a little shake!
La-la-la!
Cringe as you may!
Not a care in the world,
None at all!
Up and down, and came around,
this silly drop of water that sang
a song that cheered the gloom!
It screamed and squeaked,
merrily danced and leaped!
Across the oceans, across the sea,
It waded through all, to be free,
but found that it was bound!
Oh, silly hound! Silly, silly hound!
Rotund and stupid, just like cupid,
with an aim to cheer, drink some beer,
and loaf around with a ready dart,
to pierce my heart, O my dear heart!
Bounded from cloud to cloud,
get a life, for cryin' out loud!
You imbecile mutt, don't you strut,
and make a fool of yourself!
Don't let go of yourself! DON'T!
Bam! Thud! Crash! Boom!
There you go, I broke you.
And now I dance to triumph!
A little jerk, a little step!
A little sway, a little shake!
La-la-la!
Cringe as you may!
Not a care in the world,
None at all!
Sunday, November 8, 2009
The light that pierced the sore eyes,
gently woke the devils of darkness.
The sonorous snores that had reverberated,
across the night, across the bower of sleep,
led to a mild quake in the mind,
and the crystals on the shelves,
fell with a loud crash, onto the floor.
Splintered across the mind, they hurt.
Panic! Many a foot rushed about!
A startled gasp, here and there!
Everywhere! Mayhem, mayhem!
A kick of zeal, and a bite of joy,
even though the dough of madness,
prevents another dominant flavour!
Amidst the scenes of serene chaos,
there rang a dulcet melody!
As I woke up to another nightmare,
I found myself alive.
gently woke the devils of darkness.
The sonorous snores that had reverberated,
across the night, across the bower of sleep,
led to a mild quake in the mind,
and the crystals on the shelves,
fell with a loud crash, onto the floor.
Splintered across the mind, they hurt.
Panic! Many a foot rushed about!
A startled gasp, here and there!
Everywhere! Mayhem, mayhem!
A kick of zeal, and a bite of joy,
even though the dough of madness,
prevents another dominant flavour!
Amidst the scenes of serene chaos,
there rang a dulcet melody!
As I woke up to another nightmare,
I found myself alive.
The Ghost of Christmas Past
The scepter of the past came swooping upon my present.
It brought with it lustful memories and chunks of intimacy.
I desired not the sweetness of the dessert of Nostalgia,
as much as I craved a vial of venom brewed in bitterness.
The intensity of love turned time to cold, white marble,
and I watched the scepter carve a morbid sculpture.
Grotesque and ghastly, the sculpture and the scepter.
Adamant at procrastinating an impending peregrination,
the scepter resided in the obscure crevices in my mind.
The echo of its shrill laughter making me cringe in agony;
the shadow of the forgotten sunshine making me wither;
the tingling of taste with sweet romance making me choke;
the mirth that had slipped into the past making me cry;
and the sheer flow of Life, conspiring a murder...mine.
It brought with it lustful memories and chunks of intimacy.
I desired not the sweetness of the dessert of Nostalgia,
as much as I craved a vial of venom brewed in bitterness.
The intensity of love turned time to cold, white marble,
and I watched the scepter carve a morbid sculpture.
Grotesque and ghastly, the sculpture and the scepter.
Adamant at procrastinating an impending peregrination,
the scepter resided in the obscure crevices in my mind.
The echo of its shrill laughter making me cringe in agony;
the shadow of the forgotten sunshine making me wither;
the tingling of taste with sweet romance making me choke;
the mirth that had slipped into the past making me cry;
and the sheer flow of Life, conspiring a murder...mine.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Innocence
The tiny drop of trust lay peacefully,
on the wrinkled brown leaf in my hand.
I watched it quiver, shake and shiver,
along with my tired, trembling fingers.
It reminded me of a blue-eyed infant,
swaying to the music of his Ma's voice.
He, who falls over, over and over,
only to be picked up lovingly and fondled.
That child then gazes at the stars above,
and tries to map out a life that shines.
His twinkling map has naught to proffer,
but flowers of love, mirth and fame.
Little does he know of one-ways,
dark alleys and sudden dead-ends;
for life, for him, was always just a
mere stroll in the verdant park,
or at most, a jog on the rumbling seashore.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
The Fall Of A Flight
Fully awake, unable to move, I lay on the cliff- waiting
for a gust of wind to blow my sordid life away, while
the scent of death lurked in the air- Ah! The fragrance!
A speck in the yonder, you flew across the sky of my life,
And felt myself elevate, trying to catch up with you.
Gravity had its way, as I fell back-incapable of flight.
Just when I thought I would smoothly crash and die,
I felt the warm softness of his mighty arms around me.
And I watched you soar upwards to the Eternal Light,
as I watched my wispy hopes fall into the pits of Darkness...
And disappear.
for a gust of wind to blow my sordid life away, while
the scent of death lurked in the air- Ah! The fragrance!
A speck in the yonder, you flew across the sky of my life,
And felt myself elevate, trying to catch up with you.
Gravity had its way, as I fell back-incapable of flight.
Just when I thought I would smoothly crash and die,
I felt the warm softness of his mighty arms around me.
And I watched you soar upwards to the Eternal Light,
as I watched my wispy hopes fall into the pits of Darkness...
And disappear.
Monday, October 12, 2009
A trodden flower- part 1
I found you strewn across the narrow street,
So fresh, so dewy, so fine- you seemed to be,
that I couldn't resist taking you in my arms,
and fondling your loveliness till my fingers ached
with the agony of sheer familiarity and sensuality.
Like a gust of wind, I took you with me- far away.
Held you tight, warm and safe in my strong fist.
Later, I lay you across the musty, dark pages
across which were splattered sonnets of love,
and quietly wished that the hue of love would
keep you from discolor, death and decay.
So fresh, so dewy, so fine- you seemed to be,
that I couldn't resist taking you in my arms,
and fondling your loveliness till my fingers ached
with the agony of sheer familiarity and sensuality.
Like a gust of wind, I took you with me- far away.
Held you tight, warm and safe in my strong fist.
Later, I lay you across the musty, dark pages
across which were splattered sonnets of love,
and quietly wished that the hue of love would
keep you from discolor, death and decay.
Monday, September 28, 2009
My refuge
With open arms, it breathlessly waited.
Waited for my dreams to crash and shatter.
For then, I would run like the mighty wind
And fall into its vacant, restless arms.
It feigned no concern, no care- nothing at all.
Like a solid structure of hope, it stood.
Against all tempest, and the austere heat.
Its unmoving gait made me sprint with joy.
No care in the world, I seemed to pursue.
No purpose in my mind, no doubts in my heart.
Almost as if it knew what was coming,
What was being hurled at it so mercilessly?
It showed no disdain, no surprise. Presumption?
The poison in my words pierced its thick trunk.
My solitary refuge smiled, and let one tear flow,
As I cried, endlessly, into the labyrinthine night.
Waited for my dreams to crash and shatter.
For then, I would run like the mighty wind
And fall into its vacant, restless arms.
It feigned no concern, no care- nothing at all.
Like a solid structure of hope, it stood.
Against all tempest, and the austere heat.
Its unmoving gait made me sprint with joy.
No care in the world, I seemed to pursue.
No purpose in my mind, no doubts in my heart.
Almost as if it knew what was coming,
What was being hurled at it so mercilessly?
It showed no disdain, no surprise. Presumption?
The poison in my words pierced its thick trunk.
My solitary refuge smiled, and let one tear flow,
As I cried, endlessly, into the labyrinthine night.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Awaiting a Name
Not even during the wildest of moments,
Could there be such cool under the collar.
As one feigned a delicate, measured aplomb,
The world for the other began to fall apart.
Little by little, bittersweet moments frayed,
So did tempers, so did the never-ending days.
And then, the dance of music came to life!
A satin world appeared before my keen eyes,
and a slippery floor beneath my dainty feet.
I would lose my sanity, if I were sane,
As I have lost my pride, and myself, in vain.
The hues of magnificence came to the rescue.
And ruled the kingdom of belief and beauty
As I watched simplicity take its flight, with glee, and
Soar above them and perch itself on top of the world.
Could there be such cool under the collar.
As one feigned a delicate, measured aplomb,
The world for the other began to fall apart.
Little by little, bittersweet moments frayed,
So did tempers, so did the never-ending days.
And then, the dance of music came to life!
A satin world appeared before my keen eyes,
and a slippery floor beneath my dainty feet.
I would lose my sanity, if I were sane,
As I have lost my pride, and myself, in vain.
The hues of magnificence came to the rescue.
And ruled the kingdom of belief and beauty
As I watched simplicity take its flight, with glee, and
Soar above them and perch itself on top of the world.
In Bloom
As nimble as the first steps of a baby,
The flower of my passion, seemed to grow.
Never did it threaten to wilt or wither,
Always carried with it insurmountable glow.
Not one could trace its germination,
Not one could mark its rapid growth.
Its mellifluous laughter danced gleefully
on its delicate, white petals. Elegance.
The serenity in the heart of that flower,
I wish I could carry within my own heart.
The tempest of death would be driven away!
And the flowers of mirth would meet their bloom!
The flower of my passion, seemed to grow.
Never did it threaten to wilt or wither,
Always carried with it insurmountable glow.
Not one could trace its germination,
Not one could mark its rapid growth.
Its mellifluous laughter danced gleefully
on its delicate, white petals. Elegance.
The serenity in the heart of that flower,
I wish I could carry within my own heart.
The tempest of death would be driven away!
And the flowers of mirth would meet their bloom!
Monday, September 7, 2009
The Partition
She stood, sombre and afraid, at the threshold.
She sought a reason to cross over; to change.
She looked around for one; not one awoke.
He stood on the other side of the threshold, smiling.
His arms stretched wide open-the petals of a flower.
His twinkling brown eyes filled the sky of her life.
She found her comfort- his heart, beneath his broad chest.
Reason, then, awoke, and gently nudged her. ‘Go on’.
Trembling, she put her right leg forward; surely unsure.
An abrupt, desolate cry tapped her shoulder; a wince.
She whirled around, at once, without thinking; horror.
The phantom of forgotten antiquity had the last laugh
as the opaque gates of life shut behind her. Forever.
She sought a reason to cross over; to change.
She looked around for one; not one awoke.
He stood on the other side of the threshold, smiling.
His arms stretched wide open-the petals of a flower.
His twinkling brown eyes filled the sky of her life.
She found her comfort- his heart, beneath his broad chest.
Reason, then, awoke, and gently nudged her. ‘Go on’.
Trembling, she put her right leg forward; surely unsure.
An abrupt, desolate cry tapped her shoulder; a wince.
She whirled around, at once, without thinking; horror.
The phantom of forgotten antiquity had the last laugh
as the opaque gates of life shut behind her. Forever.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
A weathered mind
Fluffy clouds, my thoughts, on a clear sky,
my mind. The Sun of cheer shines. It smiles.
A current of mild despondence, then, passes by
and manifests itself in my prized, white thoughts.
And they age. The scepter of morbidity lingers.
A tinge of ashen gray...No, not a silver lining!
Eventually, a slight drizzle cools the humid mind.
Soon turns into a mad hailstorm- icy, hard and merciless.
The endless thread of rain seems to flow out of my eyes,
and I fail to see past the little drops of heaven.
The ravages of the calamity, I can still easily witness,
And a queer chill runs down my spine. Oddly comforting.
The sun decides makes its warm presence felt.
Peeps through the white wisps of cloud and smirks!
The Golden Goddess, it rises above the lesser mortals,
and with a swish of her dainty wand, drives the rain away!
The clear yonder twinkles with boundless delight,
and the lone feather of joy travels, happily, to the sky...
my mind. The Sun of cheer shines. It smiles.
A current of mild despondence, then, passes by
and manifests itself in my prized, white thoughts.
And they age. The scepter of morbidity lingers.
A tinge of ashen gray...No, not a silver lining!
Eventually, a slight drizzle cools the humid mind.
Soon turns into a mad hailstorm- icy, hard and merciless.
The endless thread of rain seems to flow out of my eyes,
and I fail to see past the little drops of heaven.
The ravages of the calamity, I can still easily witness,
And a queer chill runs down my spine. Oddly comforting.
The sun decides makes its warm presence felt.
Peeps through the white wisps of cloud and smirks!
The Golden Goddess, it rises above the lesser mortals,
and with a swish of her dainty wand, drives the rain away!
The clear yonder twinkles with boundless delight,
and the lone feather of joy travels, happily, to the sky...
Monday, August 24, 2009
A mighty wanderer
The minuscule speck of dust that lay,
on a winding road that led nowhere,
seemed so contented and lost in thought,
I could not help but cogitate, with a smile
at the loveliness of my muse's quiet life.
It has no map to consult, no globe to rotate.
No signpost to mark its journey along the way.
Only the invisible staircase of current,
that leads it upwards to the mighty Heavens!
Lifted with force by the seductive clouds,
and fondled lovingly by the soft breeze.
It escapes the deadliest traps with ease,
slips past the sternest of barriers with a smirk!
It dissolves not in the deepest of oceans.
It wanders about the avenues of Life aimlessly,
and, boy, how I envy that little speck of dust!
on a winding road that led nowhere,
seemed so contented and lost in thought,
I could not help but cogitate, with a smile
at the loveliness of my muse's quiet life.
It has no map to consult, no globe to rotate.
No signpost to mark its journey along the way.
Only the invisible staircase of current,
that leads it upwards to the mighty Heavens!
Lifted with force by the seductive clouds,
and fondled lovingly by the soft breeze.
It escapes the deadliest traps with ease,
slips past the sternest of barriers with a smirk!
It dissolves not in the deepest of oceans.
It wanders about the avenues of Life aimlessly,
and, boy, how I envy that little speck of dust!
I Refrain…
Your unabashed silence cut through my heart like a chainsaw,
Even the sharpest of words would never hurt as much.
The sea of distance between your heart and mine,
Can be swum and conquered with immense delight.
And, yet, I am afraid; hesitant; Fearful
of drowning myself in that bottomless sea of sorrow.
I often wonder how the world beyond this vast sea is.
Green, peaceful, cloudless and pure
Or, hazy, rueful, dark and dirty
I wish to discover, I wish to experience.
And, yet, I am afraid; hesitant; fearful
of losing myself in the wilderness of knowledge.
You will eventually come close and hold my hand.
Out of love or despondence I know not.
Sheer perplexity questions my ability to love. At all.
And, so, I am afraid; hesitant; fearful
of extending a hand that you, my dear, can clutch at all times.
Even the sharpest of words would never hurt as much.
The sea of distance between your heart and mine,
Can be swum and conquered with immense delight.
And, yet, I am afraid; hesitant; Fearful
of drowning myself in that bottomless sea of sorrow.
I often wonder how the world beyond this vast sea is.
Green, peaceful, cloudless and pure
Or, hazy, rueful, dark and dirty
I wish to discover, I wish to experience.
And, yet, I am afraid; hesitant; fearful
of losing myself in the wilderness of knowledge.
You will eventually come close and hold my hand.
Out of love or despondence I know not.
Sheer perplexity questions my ability to love. At all.
And, so, I am afraid; hesitant; fearful
of extending a hand that you, my dear, can clutch at all times.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
TODAY’S YESTERDAY
I watched life pour out of your dark eyes,
And I watched your mouth twitch and turn.
I smelt the fragrance of cheer you perspired
And I felt the softness of innocence on your cheek.
The ghosts of my past were scared of you,
The skeletons in my closet turned to dust.
No passing cloud dreamt of casting a shadow,
And the countless bubbles of love refused to burst.
Each time our eyes met, instant sparks flew,
And I burnt the corpse of my sordid past.
Now i watch the smouldering ashes of Yesterday,
And I begin to swivel in a queer conundrum.
Delve into the future or dwell upon the past?
How can I let go of my origin?
Can I give up on my past?
Do I want a clean slate to scribble on?
Do I need the lonely walks in the rain?
Go away, you nascent love of mine!
The permanence of life tempts me to resist.
The comfort of the known binds me to it.
I am going back to where I belong.
Here I go. Goodbye.
And I watched your mouth twitch and turn.
I smelt the fragrance of cheer you perspired
And I felt the softness of innocence on your cheek.
The ghosts of my past were scared of you,
The skeletons in my closet turned to dust.
No passing cloud dreamt of casting a shadow,
And the countless bubbles of love refused to burst.
Each time our eyes met, instant sparks flew,
And I burnt the corpse of my sordid past.
Now i watch the smouldering ashes of Yesterday,
And I begin to swivel in a queer conundrum.
Delve into the future or dwell upon the past?
How can I let go of my origin?
Can I give up on my past?
Do I want a clean slate to scribble on?
Do I need the lonely walks in the rain?
Go away, you nascent love of mine!
The permanence of life tempts me to resist.
The comfort of the known binds me to it.
I am going back to where I belong.
Here I go. Goodbye.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Rational Fool!
He contorted Belief and other fairytales,
Trusted core reality and hard truths of Life,
He mocked the sensuality of disorder,
Misunderstood the hilarity of embarrassment,
He comprehended not the serenity in chaos,
And heard not the silence amidst the cacophony,
He perceived stunning logic in life’s every sphere,
But overlooked the magnificence of impracticality,
Rational Fool, O Rational Fool!
The melody of life he could never hum!
Rational Fool, O Rational Fool!
The elixir of simplicity he could never taste!
Trusted core reality and hard truths of Life,
He mocked the sensuality of disorder,
Misunderstood the hilarity of embarrassment,
He comprehended not the serenity in chaos,
And heard not the silence amidst the cacophony,
He perceived stunning logic in life’s every sphere,
But overlooked the magnificence of impracticality,
Rational Fool, O Rational Fool!
The melody of life he could never hum!
Rational Fool, O Rational Fool!
The elixir of simplicity he could never taste!
All in a day's work
A sprig of fresh mint; a refreshing glance,
A crumpled t-shirt; a crumbling memory,
A broken fragile twig; a shattered illusion,
two used coffee mugs and a recent conversation,
A repetitive phrase; a bold statement,
A familiar shyness; a mental block,
A growing anxiety; distinctly reddening cheeks,
A bead of sweat on my brow; the exhaustion within me,
A stray remark; politically incorrect!
A petulant scream; a hoarse cackle,
A forced, sweet smile; a furrowed brow,
An odd nascent bondage; a buried bond,
An unchanging truth; an accepted belief,
Distinction, differentiation and design,
Life comes a full circle…all in a day’s work.
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