Happy New Year

You and I have been around,

Another circle around Sol, and we have seen

Each other in the warming lights, in unbearable too

Yet, we could and that would matter

As the sun sets, and we start, let's start anew

Let you and I have no other face

And be me and you, at our best, at our worst too

And when the dawn arrives, lets look within

Cherish how each breath bonds us, heart and soul

There is nothing, no regrets, no misgivings

The past faded, let us both erase it tonight

And greet the coming of another morning light

Warming our skin, soul, and love 

Wish ourselves well, and the other too

While we travel through the endless infinity

Treasure Hunt

It is a cold winter evening

Come forth my lovely shovel

Let us dig some hurt and grime

From the annals of tormented love

Where was that one who stabbed my heart?

Where was this other that broke it apart?

What about that one that kissed me mid town

What about the other that put me down?

One of these shall cause a fire

One of it may burn my soul

If not then let me scribble a few lines

Bury it back, into the grave where they roll

Between you and me, we have done this over

And again

Yet somehow my darling darling shovel

You seem to find the time, to still clink

When you hit the treasure chest of my hurt.

Factions

Somedays a few words splash into being from you

They seem like stars distant, shifting to red

Of galaxies drifting, further as I breathe

Yet those words sing 

They may not be too many, often 3 or 4

Yet they are just as bright

Some cold, some warming, Yet equally captivating

Mine don't reach, nor compare

The strings of words, fail to even graze 

The wall you have put before me

Like a midieval warring sieging foot soldier

I climb those walls of fire

Only to scathe,  my hands, soles, and soul

In your standoff, you manage to burn to embers

My want to reach, my soul's yearning

In these warring times, I often find me swimming

In your moat, wrestling your alligators

Only to not kill them, but be bitten, just so

Book reading

I have read you with eagerness

Found such joys, unimaginable, pristine

Each time I have, it was another story

Some of love, some of lust, some of debauchery

Yet all astonishing, stilling my soul

And now the book is closed

Leaving behind the dust marking it's kept

Only for me to wish another read

I wonder if you are read, and by who

And if they read it with the gentleness 

Do they worry of not creasing your pages

Do they worry of wear, let alone tear

These are my unknowns, these are frightful

It is not for me to dictate, or direct

The book I have so cherished, loved, longed 

Is lost to time, leaving only memories

Go away, Sea

I hate you, filled to the brim

Of salt and sand, and dead things afloat

I heed not to your calling, nor to your beautiful sunsets

I take no peace lying above deck

From my crow's nest I don't need to find 

Greens nor desire for printing my feet

Leaving temporary, to be washed and erased

That is how I shall defy thee

Call me never again, for I won't either

My blood has enough storms

Than you can match

I laugh at those who dream of surf and spray

I seek no solace in you, for you offer none

How high and mighty shall one be

Upon the boundless , endless sea

Where many have heaved, post their last exhale

Filled their lungs with the salty sea

I shall not go, you shall not make me

For the foam and swell, I hate them, as they hate me

Where but I a sailor shall be

Other than such an insolent sea

I refuse to follow, I defy these norms

Forego the calls, of the gusty winds

Many a sails have been torn, I have set a few ablaze

Plundered and pulverized the slippery weeds

Today when I saw the last sun

I painted my eyes to an auburn wine

In this glass, I sail now and for ever

I keep away from the taker of my fellows be

Rhyme and Resonance

Right and might

Upon the ego's flight

Chanced upon nothing

Such is my plight

When the words rang

And my voice sang

It was your name

My sonnets weren't tame

They sang of loss

They sang of the moss

Growing on my heart

Since we drifted apart

Only to be ashamed

For you couldn't be named

Such is now my plight

My shadow hates my sight

Your longing has left me pale

To wander in this winter gale

Losing my bearings

I seem to have lost my sense of writing

Or so as a friend says

Maybe he is right

Maybe I have lost more than that sense

There I was wallowing over loss

Love, absence, voids thereof

Only to be scattered into senslessness

And its periphery

Blinded like a bat in mid summer noons

How would I, yes I , How would I recover

For I swam a tide that swells no good

In it's foam and splash

I was drenched in it's apathy

It is pointless, if there is a way to return

I have neither the will, nor know the way

All I see is a broken lighthouse

That was burnt in it's own flames

Maybe the next swell shall reject my drowning

Lash me ashore, strand me on land

Yet for the luck I have , of I know

I shall be hurled towards a cliff

Smashed on the jagged rocks below

Echoes of a distant past

Ah! I remember, our kiss at the booth

Hiding from folks, stealing moments

It was me then, broken and lost

While your hand stilled me, our lips locked

The ale rannstrong, in both our veins

Yet your breath felt as the misty wind

I had fallen in love, all over again

The mind was butterflies, the eye a sea

Lashing in tears, of joyful, spilling at times

Your hands like the sun, wiped them away

I could have died, and I should have too

For I had felt, more than a heart could ever

Then the evening left, the days passed

You too wandered, forsaking my arms

I fret not for the forsaken bits

The heart yearns to see and hear

The thoughts echo of those old times

When you sought love, like I did

And here I am now, adrift in woeful eternity

Winter muse

Those gentle sunsets you catch, 

I have seen them too

Gentle hints or reds and orange

Pinks and blues merging, distant

At then, you would shower your words

Often grace my eyes, and be my muse

Another day would dissolve and fade 

I would wait for more of you

I admit of your allure, sight and sound

The strongest is in speech and thought

Like sunflowers that shine and shy

To spring forth, in gentle golden glow

So dusky, gentle, winter muse

That lit fire for my heart to soothe

My words seem to stumble and cease

At your vanishings, always and too soon

warming the winter

This is my laboratory

In here are beakers, frail and clear

In here are flasks, large and small

I often light a burner and distil 

Yet not catch and condense

The fumes of regret some choices bring

I have often sought

How much can I burn, hear, boil

Yet the answer is ways lost

Each test is new, each unique

Yet each needs me to pluck my heart

Of late I see it willing and wanting

To be ground to a wispy powder

It could be easy, it has been mended

The seams can come off at a nudge

So another chance has arrived

I have hesitated to take

But in the cold winter night

I choose to go at it, 

warm my heart in a flask

Distil and let the scent of you

Fill my room as I feel you drift apart

Morbid

I have been called for breakfast

It seems to indicate it's morning 

The lunch reminds me it's noon

And then tea time arrives, Earl Grey

In an olfactory aspiration of Bergamot 

I find none, neither taste

It's water

Hot yes, hot water pretty much

The nicotine hits no high

And then I remember the call to dinner

I hate dinner times, now more than ever

It's an end of the day, of another lament

Towards insomnia, forward unto 

Into sheepish, sleepless, emptiness

Only to rinse and repeat another cycle

To breathing the fungus of your parting

Choking my lungs, filling it to woe

The winter is frozen with my sighs

As my heart chills the wind in every exhale.

Winter Mornings are a Bitch

Good morning love, it is another day

The mist is as fresh as your absence

It has only been long since you went

Yet it feels like yesterday, 

One knows not when, one knows not when

For I was awake in your presence

Then the absence numbs my senses

Comatose, ah quite the likeness

I hold this sunflower, bright and yellow

It is as fresh too, it would be

I made it myself for you as a gift 

It even smells of silence you make feel

Yet is an astute chrome yellow

Lacks the gentleness of your cheeks

The ashtray i let it rest on has Singapore

Etched on it, in clay 

The bookmark broke though

But it decided to cut me before leaving

I guess it wanted a shade of my red

I doubt if that still is the colour in my veins

The heart is blue, makes my teeth chatter

I hear it, and think it is a symphony

Like my buddy writes, or maybe hears

Unsure, like most of the mist is in my head

Ah indeed, the mist,

Was that you, shining through it?

Or was it the sun, I can't tell

Feels the same, only both are far 

So far away for me to distinguish

So now I guess I will let myself wander

Again into thoughts, me, you, then, et al

When I am still and mute

And all that is heard is beeps and a trickle

Run to me, you fluffy fluffy brat

For I am on my way

Run to me, for I would be afraid

Calm me with gentle whimpers 

Walk beside, fanning my shin

Watching your tail as you sprint and circle

Walk me through the abyss of end

I am sure you met my friends

Tell me stories of them, tell me everything

Then tell me, to not be afraid

Curling into me every few steps

Poking your booper into my chest

Each time I sit to run my hands on your head

I have missed your curious eyes

For they have always stilled my thoughts

Spirals of Fallacy

Tainted are some moments

Of songs I have loved, 

Those gentle pecks

And things I had in amorous embrace 

Farcical have they be painted

In pretentious platitudes of need

For when it wasn't me

Coiled around, substituted

Painted to a fallacy of whatever

Pure vitriol, yet I have held back

For the raging of unbirdled love

Serves only to beseech 

Things one cannot fathom

Yet speak of, in volumes of audacity

Like a chisel carving, a stone

Only to reveal and bring forth

The macabre tones of falsehoods

Where did the voice die

Of has it ever breathed

For if it does now, it would sigh

Yet I'd meet it with my gentle fingers

Cajole and contradict, and burn in fires

For it would all be mine to bear

The heart I have can only love

And it has not known to deny

Reminiscent

The bottles of eristoff and Gorbatschow

Have long stood as a reminder

Of I having never broken down 

For I break into the inconsolable

It has stood gleaming, in our arguments

In our odd discussions and perceptions

Only to have you back down, younger one

And yet they have poured themselves 

Over and over into your glass

Before I was done with 3 you were at 7

As always, you were in a hurry

I remember the drunk new year's eve

Where you refused to listen to reason

Making me travel miles to punch you

Make you see logic, drag you home

You and your tantrums, childish yet fun

So brother Pious tell me

What made you leave, so soon, so quick

Did the beautiful skies need a closer look?

Or maybe you wanted a better view

But maybe you were being you

Hurrying and running, yet this time so far

Call me, sometime. Don't be a stranger

A trove of grandeur

Often have you spoken of love 

And how I know as such nothing of 

I agree,  your endearment tends to overwhelm 

And I seem to just rattle, and revolve around you 

If you should ask me, if anyone would 

I could murmur the sound your hair makes 

I can recite the strumming of your heartbeat 

I could mimic your breath, leaving your nostrils 

I could describe the scent of your exhale 

I could paint the way your skin feels 

I could poetise the sparkle of your eyes’ glimpse 

Yet for all that  

I truly cannot understand love 

For you say it is so, and for me that is true 

I have tried to be you,  

Before action that very thought has failed 

For you stir, still, elate, elevate 

My body and soul, in wake and slumber 

I have often wondered, what makes you 

My answers have always been, you 

You made you, you made me,  

If you can love; how can I 

For I am unable to contain such grandeur.

Un-Rumi me

More often than not, have I drenched

This soul, in the oil of your absence

And at such, have you set it ablaze

With a single glimpse of you

In the seeds, hides the heat of peppers

They yet are the bearers of life

Where one sees the pungent, stark heat

The farmer sees fruits of his labour

In moments alone, surrounded by many

They are, but they are not you

Even the August company, is but a void

In the stark absence of your gentle exhale

I would be home, or so I thought

In the hum of the stars, distant and bright

Yet they make no such desired sounds

My ears wish to hear your batting eyelids

Rise and recede

Often at the edge of the cliff 

I have stood

watching the sea lash, persistent

It like you often recedes, only to rush

In its barrage of incoming  tide

Spraying mist, splashing my face

Waking me up, from a stillness

To be bewitched

Such, so much, often overbearing

Clouding my mind, only to remind

It shall recede, the sun set, rise again

Like a diorama,yet  in constant change

Often I wish to not blink

For like you this sight is a beautiful haunt

For at night when I sleep, if I do, 

Your craving dawns, like those waves

Bargains

I was twenty short, 

so I bargained

The seller needed twenty so she refused

In between us was a trivial disconnect

Of needing a twenty, 

and not having a twenty

I made a simpler deal

I moved to another shop,

 I bought the same

Cheaper

yet still the same

The difference was of perception

Not of being, but of demands

I just needed it, wasn't a want

but wants are a platitude

Only leading to irrelevance

Subsiding and rising

wasting and waning

Cashew Orchard

Have you walked into an orchard

Filled with cashew trees, ripened and ready

For the first timers, it is an olfactory overload

The smell, bewitching, and overwhelming

Pluck one, Red, shiny, seemingly innocuous

Wipe it on their sleeve, smell it and indulge

The first bite is tantalizing, sweet

The juice feels heavenly, then suddenly acrid

Only to test, bewildered by such mismatch

Of fragrance over tastes

Another bite before it is shunned.

With a promise to never again repeat

The second visit, ah! , Such is the folly of allure

The senses overwhelm, once again 

The heart calls for an adventure, doesn't it?

Another fruit, another bite, 

Astringent, acrid, the tongue awash in regret

Another promise broken and remade

Never to bite another one again

Third time's the charm, the mind thinks

For it is how the mind seeks toxicity

Another fruit, another bite

Yet this time the taste seems better, somehow

On the fourth, one shall finish that fruit

Let the gums drown in its juicy evil

Knowing full well, knowing it's not a choice

Yet one goes through more than one

How much is a heart unlike this, tidally locked

Forever pulled, into wanton cravings

Of love and relationships, knowing its fall

Yet we gnaw on such cashew fruits

Over and over, for the nose leads

While common sense fades

Crash bang bandicoot

I was steering, while veering

I was a few bolts loose

And on greaseless bearings

In the squeaking cacophony 

Of the rumbling pistons and valves

The dashboard rattling, 

While the clutch was creaking

You stood in my path

I rushed through, 

With failed brakes, and a failing transmission

Deflating tyres and a dangling windscreen

As I grazed you, I bit my lip

I sighed

It was at best a vent of vehement hate

For having missed my impending plunge

Having turned to avoid

As I rolled, breaking my roll cage

Crushing the body, grazing my skin

Akin to loving you

Where the soul feels the same

A stitch here and there

I have often written, of your transgressions

Yet I have often forgotten what made you do

It is not mine, to pin the blame on you

It is your nature, you are a whirlwind

Spinning in your own directions

Gathering grime and dust

Only to chance decorate 

One who shall be swept in by you

I seek not to antagonise, nor paint you in dark

For you remind me of what bright was

Yet today, when the heaving ocean sparkled

I remembered, how you had muddied its water

Is it you who swept across 

Or was it the currents that drew you within

There is no one to blame, not you, not me

For we are in a paradox, entangled in reality

When; this time, and if you shall arrive

Leave alone my garden, for the leaves are frail

They haven't learnt to bear, for they wither easy

Knowing you, you can never stop

Knowing that, I have learnt to sew

Stitching my 'torn to asunder' heart

Kintsugi'd heart

Tread mildly, on gentle footing

Many a souls lay beneath your landing

While the red now seems persistent, 

It has often been a shade of cold blue

The arrival of you brings thawing 

And with it a glimmer, and a warning

My cynicism never is far behind, 

For matters of this fragile heart

Often have I seen such thaw and freeze

leaving me in utter shudder and unease

Mulled into outlandish permanence

Only to be rudely awakened

So if this arrival of you is brief

And you shall like all at some oddity leave

Walk forth, gently and let me guide you

Out of this maze of my kintsukuroi'd heart

Ah the sweltering October heat

Waning away another year

Making it felt, of another approaching

What would my November be like

For that should be my 42

In all the 41 of my being

When have I found myself at home

While one could argue, 

'tis where the heart is, Mine wanders

Mine has been places, over the hills

On the seas, in the dark mines

Over the mine fields, amongst the rain drops

Amongst the hailstorms, of ice and lead

Both in pools, red and colourless

Maybe this next one shall help me find

"Oh November, as you arrive "

"Bring me home, or make it known"

Let me hope for a wonderous dawn

I fret nor lament, for what has passed

Now, into tomorrow as I pass

Shine on me, and make it last

In her void, I find home

As she spirals my mind to a frenzy

In breaths that never have been since

Unheard, felt, or witnessed, 

It was at the edge of her will

She was at the end of her wits 

In a cauldron of love, lust, and longing

She escaped her mortal shell

Often I hear her calling my name

In the stillness of a pitch black night

I dare not call back or acknowledge

For my demons yearn to be released

Tum ek jo, kabhi yaad dilao

Shayad se mai, khud ko

Apne aapko bhulaane doon

Hu mai jo aaj, kisi mukaam par

Tumhare dil se hat'kar, vidaa hoon

Tum ek jo, kabhi yaa'd dilao

Shayad se mai, khud ko

Apne aapko bhulaane doon

Wo halke se choo'kar

Jo tumhari nazar jo hat' jaati hai

Jaise dafan tere dil mei

Meri wafa ho, aakar dekh ja

Teri kami, se mai bhi, utna khafaa hoon

Tum ek jo, kabhi yaad dilao

Shayad se mai, khud ko

Apne aapko bhulaane doon

Ab shaayad na tum, na tera aks

Hazir mere sheeshe ki, bikhre tukdomei

Na dik'he, par inme to mai hi samaa hoon

Mei kaun ho, ye nahi, 

Tera hi, tujh mein hi, khudko bhoola hoon

Tum ek jo, kabhi yaad dilao

Shayad se mai, khud ko

Apne aapko bhulaane doon

Tum ek jo, kabhi yaad dilao

Shayad se mai, khud ko

Apne aapko bhulaane doon

Tumhe mai nahi paakar, ab jee raha hoon

Shayad kab'hi,  yaad aaye ' tume, mera naam jo

Meri harqaton par, has'kar, phir bhulaane do

Tum ek jo, kabhi yaad dilao

Shayad se mai, khud ko

Apne aapko bhulaane doon

Cycle of love

It is such a cliche

To suffer in finding love, and to suffer in

Yet in such pursuits much is overshadowed

What else is such an endeavor, if not futile

For all its fruits are acrid

Those that deny such feelings lie

Like their soul, beneath a sheet of ice

Post pursuit, in shambles 

So many, 

Splintered, cracked, unwilling, living

What morose tones of humor does life paint

Where we seek such adversity

Only to then succumb and forsake

Rinse and repeat, to break down again

linen bright

She knew no less of a better view

Than looking down, holding his curly locks

where his lips met hers, yet not in kisses

but kisses, not the ones we hear

In her moans and the wild cries

Her drench would quench her lover's sighs

In his reach,at passion's peak

She would shudder and shake awry 

When She had fed Their fill

She would calm her now weak will

He would look down upon her a while

As he lay buried between her thighs. 

flights of fancy

In the view of sweaty palm prints and fogged mirrors

on clenched linen, in lipgloss stained sheets

As she curled fetal, and breathed heavy

She felt him reach her mind and soul

Their skin soaked and glistened

in the flickering of the fire place

Her gentle sighs and heaving breaths

As his hands coiled around her enamoured breasts

she floated into the endless void

of wild love and growling lust

when they turned around to greet

he held her close, eye to eye knee to knee

this time she rose to see him lie

let her locks loose, let them fly

As she fed, Hunger devouring hunger bold

Her mind floated in ecstacy, to touch the sky

Summer of love

Her scent rung his senses

In gentle whiffs, of her exhale

Tickling his curls, as her cheeks brushed

As her ears heard, his heart pound away

Her tresses gently kissed

Covering his face, as their tastes exchanged

Her gentle hands, held his deep black mane

While in his she melted, giving way

At a pause, their eyes engaged

Hers in shimmering shy, His ablaze

They blinked few, as each stared through

The tendrils of their soul at play

When her sweat, from brow and chin

Splashed in his eye between blinks

He chose to stare, and whispered sweet

She arched over, to kiss and stay

Neither her, no he chose to move

While the sun rose, lit the rooms

She and he lay bare, entwined

That mid summer noon of May

Ponder Mildly for the Mind is frail

Being called out

Or called for

Is only a difference in phrasing

Yet so much in phasing

Often they are mixed

When I am concerned

I woke up today, 

Was it called for, not by me

Then was it for you

I was called out for being along

After you had been done

For I had nothing to give

All taken, I was to find me stumble

Crumble and fade, yet

Nothing has moved me, 

Maybe for nothing could, Or I have

Away, or so further, or so much

That it seems mediocre, 

Such frail sense of longing, cringe

Happiness, crumbling souless husks

Maybe I too am, maybe you choose me to

Yet no, I shall defy

Refuse to let, refusing to vent, refusing to get

Lone, yet not alone 

Neither songs, nor music

Maybe why, I get called out

Or I get called for

But I and the calling never fades

I have lived,

 smelt the gentle hints of oudh

 Known the chants and hymns

   Uttered awashed in flames

From lips of the keepers of the eternal flame

In the flicker, I saw faith

For the fire is among the fours

Before the sword forced Gods upon

  And to this day seek to erase

  A faith has lived, and has lived along

     In hearts, and minds, in glowing embers

Through hands that has fed

In their eyes, I see light

For the fire is, piercing the darkness

Tying the horses

Often at night, while I lie wide awake

She rolls to me and into a cuddle

At rest I am at my thoughtless best

And she speaks of nothing else

Other than leaning in and saying "I love you"

I always run my hands on her back then

Acknowledge it, and respond "I love you too"

In the ages of reason, past

One must often run into such qualms

In quarrels, in quandary, and in queer 

And often think or reflect on their day

Or do they lean in and say "I love you"?

I always found it to be a charade

Does the other acknowledge and respond too?

As I lie now I can't remember my personal last

When I had such refutable thoughts

I hear the words of her love confessions

And all I feel is apathy, as I let them pass

Should I have been more receptive I think

She leans in whispers her usual "I love you"

And in my laugh I whisper "I no longer do"

The other side of a one sided coin

In my dimly lit corner

I scribble violently, reminiscing thoughts 

Rampant, repulsive, some dear, most chided

The mind is a coroner

The pages are my notes

In unintelligible scribblings, I pen

most even I cant read once the liquor wears 

My clothes are in shades or rags and refusals

My heart a bonfire of compulsion

The binders are of my conscience

And I ponder if I should keep having any

Amongst the rusting pitchforks

That has stabbed me, many fold

Over, and again, I hand it over to my detractors

Friends, lovers, such jolly named fellows

You could ask me, why I persevere

I could laugh, cynical , in sarcasm laden hues

We are past that age of reason

At least, I am. I am found not lost

And that too in wilfull contempt

Of found and finder

Lean over, look over my shoulder,

You wretched wretched guardian

Feeding me another breath, to suffocate me

How you gallantly perch in my head

Often my speech, or is it our conversation

I can never tell, you and I seem alike 

A mirrored, marred, maniacal, akin to opulence

Somedays you speak, other days I do

Those moments are of seething hatred

Of my own existence, I won't lament though

Then when you reach back, I lean in

Like you now do, watching my audacity 

Of stubborn living, and smirking mockery

While both find reasons to co-exist

Unwilling, yet in a quasi love

This is one such epithet

Of me seeking you, while in your denial

I shouldn't, but love in confronting rejection

Burial at sea

Beneath the plates of steel and wood

Are beings that have seen more fire

more fire, than a soul in hell

And have blackened themselves darker than tar

These are not mere mortals

These are those that have defied wind

They have conquered may swells and storms

The music of their soul it seems

Are sounds of escaping steam

And whisles of valves and the rumble of hearth

Of the fire that gobbles oil and coal

Their dance is with forks and shovels

Their grip is like a vice

That even the winter seems paler to

The merry band, as they ply

From port to port, beneath the skies

They fear no storms, they fear no fate

They go forth into the unknows

They bring everyone back home

And to the unsung heroes of yester years

One must sing songs to remember their toil

They are the children of the sea

Their caskets shall never be covered by soil

They are the ones that the sleep on the sea bed

Without a care, staring at the sky from the depths

And then there were Two

What will the dawn break bring, and

Mybe my dreams, of uncanny

Wanting a release, or to refurbished

Neither seems like a rare thought

Those sudden surges and urges

And only knowing I shall numb myself

Where, but in my mind am I truly free

Sans thoughts of belonging or bygones

And if I must question, poetic justice

It is a befitting to my life long cause

When does one begin to be

A loner, unwilling to be otherwise

Is it at the first

  the second

    or at the third loss?

Or is it when one meets another alike

When a loner meets loner is it a chance?

Or is it a tragic joke that nature spins?

Maybe loners are the same, 

If they meet or greet, 

    They laugh at their choices,

     or their mends.

And if by choice they wilfully tred

On a path of knowing the other self

Would they still be the loner they are

Or have they learnt to see themselves

Fried or Steamed Wanton, Cravings

Unrest and cacophony, of incessant utterings

Some of mind, some of lettering

In the absence of shades to hide beneath

I seek no respite, for it is futile

Unbeknownst to conscience, mine or otherwise

Spins wanton cravings, steamy or baked

Whose to know,  Not me, I won't

It feeds, the mind and the soul, and on

When the day comes calling, and if I wake

Awash in the fragrant bath soap

Smelling like a an estranged vanilla cake

A cut, and sliced 

In cut and dry, in audible framing

Of words causing an unwanted churning

Only to chum the seas of my being

Inviting the hungry, to one lost of it

Afloat, washed out, amongst the non foamy

Wavering, and lashing, bolting and dashing

I shall float, on that stormy sea

Maybe the sharks grow tired of such routine

Finding me afloat, considered a chore maybe

Then again am in the overtune of overthinking

I seek drowning, standing on sandy shores.

Into the unknown, a leap of faith

Yet knowing that such is always at odds

Contrary to logic, rhyme and reason

Spinning a web of conversation

In the hours of hearing a mirror

And often mirrors don't reflect entirety

She and I, like strangers glanced

Into the void of this fleeting time

At the end, we turned and walked away

For each, for each

And in some semblance of assurances

Thinking when we meet again

When and wherefore

What for shall a lifetime be

If it isn't spent in wanton glee

From the first puddle I splashed 

To the first mature joke I cracked

Plastered with stains of pain

And polka dotted dreams of she

Here I hear, that the world is ravaged

There is but a wail and plea

Amongst such apathy and sorrows

Lie the heartless , lying mouths

Reclining on the sands by the sea

What for shall my lifetime be

For my faith in fellowmen is wee

Yet then in each day of wake

I spend praying my heart out to thee

If so is the plight, then I wish to see

A flaming sword on swift wings thrust at me

Ending my longing and casting me to dust

Cure my will to breathe, put me to sleep

Curses and Contentment

Amongst the Damascus of words

Weaved and heaved, weighed and approximated

Go now, I shall let you be

Yet for all that carry this curse

Like I carry love and care, that shall be mine

I curse you reach the greatest of heights

From whence as you shall call for love

I shall have to hear no sound

Go now, I shall recede

Drown in the foam of my own seas

Yet for all that carry this curse

Like I carry a prayer, for you in my hearth 

I curse you meet the warmest of love

With whom you shall smile and retort

Go now, for the time has come to pass

My soul has burnt, so has my heart

Yet for all that carry this curse

Like I carry a memory of those long gone days

I curse you to be stronger than cold steel

While you bear the burdens of life so frail

Go now, I shall wait here

I have always found me in wait of love

Yet for all that carry this curse

Like I carry no remorse not guilt

I curse you with Joy and good will

While you dust off the regrets of my being. 

Double stitched laces

Her dreams are laces and lingerie

Her hands weave them 

yet her body has never felt its silken grace

Her dreams are warm winter nights

Her plight is cold porridge

The magic of her gentle threads

Has lit flames in many a beds

Her's is a cotton worn out sheet

A pillow of stuffed rugs

Yet she sees the ply, with utmost care

What feeds her may never be her's to wear

Yet as all vagabond poets and street artists

She can dream

A dream is all her strength

Often to weave the best, to hem them

And she shall, forever be at it

Until her eyes and hands are able

I'll come to you with the summer rain

Ease the thirst, carve you pain

then evade you, and dissuade your yearn

Vanish into the fading night

Then when you shall seek me

I will refute your claims of love

At best torment, At worst adorn your laments

wear it as my crown, mock you in my court

You are but a jester, are you not!

for you seek to amuse me, make me joyous

Then such shall be your bidding

Shall shall be your binder

Invoke my craving, curdle in woe

Show me you cannot carry anymore

Then let me reach out, touch you again

Stab your soul, bathe in your seething pain

Ammamma

Post ruby reds and crushing pain

Born like countless, countlessly over and again

While most today glorify the possibility

Unlike yesteryears when it meant a chance

When the sun hit noon that fateful day

She had cooked and cleaned and fed the many

And in her room she bore mom

Only to rest a while and carry on all over again

By the sum of her actions she is flawed

She remains my symbol of resilience

Mired in helplessness and hopelessness

She still taught mom to teach me to walk

Unlike most I know, Mom has never glorified

Of being a mom, or how her biology is great

She taught me to value a fallen leaf

That shall feed the seed to spring new greens

An estranged devaki of sorts 

Ammamma was Yashoda

Yet I am no Krishna, nor a shade of him

Yet they stood like mountains, 

Steeling my resolve, easing my pain

Taught me to teach, taught me to see

Kept me alive, kept me sane

Chakka Sambar

The sambar is ready, Chakka sambar

And Raju loves it no other way

Dosas or rice, not idlis for sure

And his heart melts and remembers it

Ammama's hand making it

My amma has tried, my baiko has tried

And I have roamed the countryside

Yet the essence of Ammama's Chakka sambar

Retains it prime position forever and on

Lotus root, mutton liver, pizza,

 tambda and pandhra rassa

Kokam kadi, rasam, seared seer fish

Squid rings, prawns, crabs, not chicken

Nothing seems to compensate

It's her perfect blend of parippus and puli

And gently cooked chakka slices

Maybe its her hand, at this point who knows

For she seems to be the only key

After 3 PM from Holy Family

When Joseph uncle would let me alight

Into the waiting arms of my ammamma

She would tell me, Raju vegam Vaa, Samabar indakitund.

Ammamma was the magic of life

She was the magic of Sambar,

Chakka Sambar

When it rains, It pours woe

Auburn hills, splitter splatter

Midst of greens, and running water

Washing the woe, so gently yet

By the cliffs, drenching the hawk's nest

Eroding the forever stones

Only to remind them, to be forever gone

Once the stream was done with them

A few thousand years, at most

I shiver as the drench hits my spine

As my kurti sticks to me, while the wind howls

It is Khandala, mid July, everywhere is, mid July

Now those days have long faded

For long my heart's grief has masqueraded

Only to be eroded, to despair, and rue

While I find no meanings in hills and boughs

Where was I, when I was to be me

Maybe I was too much in control of grief

As this cold rain hits my resentful face

I have nothing to show it, only my solemn solitude

And it's hopeless embrace.

Gems in the light, or lack thereof of either

What are rubies and sapphires?

Only gemstones, plain corundum

Slathered on sheets or stones with epoxy

Grinding metals and cutting and polishing.

One may question their value

Clear versus coarse to opaque

Some made in fire, others born of it

Some in graphite blocks, others in mud

Yet they are the same

To me they are just corundum

Like most, mediocrity bound fools

Trying to hold value in their errands as tools

Pity, ah yes, Pity 

That I do not possess for such insolent 

In their wake, they are only gravel

In the absence of light, and there is so much.

Turbid Murkiness of Life

At neoprene's behest, unbeknownst to sanity

I let the asphalt rub, mightily, uncalled for

At the ditch, post the lamps, broken posts

I found me tumbled, amongst the tumbleweed

Soberiety arrives, waits a few hours, leaves

In it I earn, yearn to forget, what I do to

Post ball and chain, it is back, me, my insanity

Instantly, drunken dancing, driving

Crashing into woods, words, worlds, wants

Always clashing, there is no remorse

Then

Soberiety arrives, waits a few hours, leaves

In it I earn, yearn to forget, what I do to

Paints

Fragmented is my reality

My pallette of only black

And the heart asks for reds

Yet I paint it in gradients

Shades of black into greys

Or the absence of either

The canvas has its colours

I paint around enclosing it

Like a storm brewing

Or like murderous barbrians rampging

Of all the good in siege

Encircled by the thirst of death

Such macabre musings are 

Such are musings of mine

I have ridiculed storms in my breath

I have ravaged the stormy seas

If life should come calling

I shall be the siren at the cliffs

Lure it into the rocky shallows

Set that wreck adrift in the seas

No moon shall shimmer a glimmer

For there is no hope to wallow for

Abandoned is beautiful mornings

Abhorred is make believe and dreams

If you still come calling

Know full well my heart is forever dark

Your cries shall hold no candle to it

For it only darkness I cast

Just Malayali Things

Who moved my uppilithathu bottles

Screamed mom, 

Just Nair Things, only Nair's know

Mom sure knows who did it

Wasn't me, I was in Mumbai

She is alone at home, been so for years 

"I haven't spoken to you in a while"

She says abruptly, after speaking an hour before

Just Malayali things, yes I guess

"Amma, I am fine. Have you eaten" I ask.

"Chakka kuru kootan" , she says adding

"I remember you roasting the kurus in the adupp"

I miss those times, 

    I remind her that was with ammamma, not her.

She sighs, "Ah yes, I wish I was there"

I ask again "Amma, are you well?"

She adds "Yes, I miss you too"

In this mix of abrupt replies

I miss her annoying me with her stupid daily soaps

Amma is fine, I just wish I was.

Nair Ammas are oddly strong, or maybe mine is.

I wait to meet her, I miss Kerala.

Songs of the Seven: #1 For all my tribes

One shall arrive

On winds that shall scatter the dust

Carrying the one

The spirit in a calf

You all should bow

To none other than the calf

And hold his hand high

For he is the bringer of life

He may forsake you and all life

To protect the little spirit

But you must not harm

For he only seeks my will

When the day arrives

Be there amongst the arid dry fields

Welcome his coming

Respect his wish

What else would I love more

Than to be drenched in your sweat

Breathing into my ears like rumbling clouds

Tingling my senses like lightning

While you like the wind turn and tumble

Pinning me down in a fierce embrace

Mixing into me like water into clay

To glisten under the moon lit night

He rolled the cart, smiled

Got my signature, refused a drink of water

He was in a hurry

He had to make deliveries

His tag said courier, he was parched though

His day was just beginning

Mid noon to late evening

Followed by nights at the hospital

Bedside by his Maa

She has been his reason to breathe

Now her's was force fed via a ventilator

She had no choice for this plight

The others were just selfish

He has had his third test,

He is clean, his clothes not so much

He has held back an ocean

To break down and cry, but Baba can't see

His sister gets him rotis, half cooked

Her 17 year hands were busy in journals

Journals don't teach life skills

They help you earn

Only to get a degree, to be employed

While ruled and herded by ones that lack

Even basic morality, let alone be an edurite

Come Monday, they will mostly die

Or their voices will

In this absence of humanity.

पुनर्स्थापित - २

शब्द हे विणून वाणी

शब्द हे विंचू चावी

कुणा कुणा, शब्द नाही

कुणी कुणी शब्दातून पाही

मला शब्द हे कविता झाली

तुला शब्द ते अनोळखी राही

शब्दांसाठी शब्दे

शब्दांच्या शोधात शब्द मिटले

राहिला फ़क्त श्वास

श्वासांच्या ध्वनित शब्द प्रेमाचे मिटले

ध्वनी होते हताश , पण तू मुग्ध होती

अभिमानाच्या शब्दांत

तर शब्द हे कविता झाली

तुला शब्द ते अनोळखी राही

प्रेम शब्दांत न कळे, 

प्रेमाचे धडे शब्दांत नाही खरें

तर, जरी

कुणा कुणा, शब्द नाही

कुणी कुणी शब्दातून पाही

शब्द हे विणून वाणी

शब्द हे विंचू चावी।

longing

I sail into the night

On gentle moonlit storms

Peace is for lesser mortals

Peace is not for me

When you dock your ships

I catch the wind in my sails

Amongst the rising dark swell

I find my mind, at home

As the raging sea roars

Singing to me its morbid tune

Keeping me afloat

Prolonging the inevitable

Until I descent into the depths

To finally find peace 

Sleeping in her bountiful embrace

Somedays I wish to curl up and die

And other days, not wake

Yet meaninglessly, another days dawns

Drafts me into its pointlessness

I have existed, spiralling into madness

Drenching my heart, in the raining venom

Wishing for death, but dragged into living

Battered by all that I hold dear

While the universe laughs

Making me unwillingly breathe

Taunting and tormenting me

Forcing me to be alive.

Quantum States

A square drawn

In 3 dimensions

Validates what I see

Yet adding another makes it difficult

As such is the mind's dilemma

If you touch 6 or so on there of

The meaning just seems to fade

Only to overwhelm what I percieve

This is my adjunct to reality

Adding dimensions to my dissociate belief

Blind, as it is

It is but better explained

In numbers, in constants, in variables

Is all that I feel pure mathematics,

Or is it just a flight of fancy?

For this is what I feel of love too

Unexplained, uncharted, and unrelenting

I shall not pursue such limitless, unaccountable thoughts

I rather sit, drink my Chardonnay 

Than fall into these emotional states of disbelief.

So Mr.Fox

Michael captures Peregrine falcons

When he isn't fending and restraining

 Beings in murderous rage and rampancy

Of broken systems and IT's mange

He has often seen

Many a youth onboard and off

They come and go like moths to a flame

Some die in the burning hells of conferences

He stands there, watchful and mild

As he gathers it all, and calms the storm

He may earn his bread there, doing his chore

But his heart is at Llela's

Amongst delicate butterflies

The blooming purple Wisterias

The pond herons.

The folly of the Silver Cow Creamer

Amidst this sweltering summer, one must wish

Like my earnest bestie, hoping rest and reprieve

Of a journey to the moon, a voyage of discovery

At that.

Then again, he at best is sold

To seeking the white light as joy or so

And I of all I should not alter

His misplaced and false mystical thought

But to him, I shall offer

A chance to consider the other view

For; while he considers there are beaches

And decides to bask on white sand dunes

He must know the moon holds nothing

Barren as the lover's soul

Rejected, in the apostasy of love

At best the song one can hear

Is Chopin's Marche Funèbrè

Which speaks of nothing joyous

But the end of arts and souls

The yachts and steamships ferry only in the not

For the moon seeks to glorify its presence

Borrowing and begging for the sun's light

Long have we thought false

Long have we raised and praised the moon

For now, if Feby should realize

It is nothing, has only ill

Living on others' soul, sapping on wanton desires

Burning the rain

Torrid rain

As she walked onto the terrace

With me following, unknown to her

I was asleep, so she must have thought

As she stood there gazing into her garden

I walked upto her, in the splatter of raindrops

On the tinny roof tops covering the adjacent roof

Stealthily, approached her from behind

Whispered naughty words as my arms swung around

She stood still, as she loves to

For she knows what follows next

For she is party to, my random raunchy retort

I turned her around and kissed her lips

And sipped the rain now in her mouth

She riled up my raging lust

Holding me abreast, she held me tight

And warmed my soul, with her flaming tongue

I stood there, in that kiss and caress

Wishing the rain would never stop.

Turn Signals

The left blinker doesn't work

He said as he let out his hand

Between the middle of nowhere on a dark road

I wondered who would care

I asked him why he chose to indicate

When the roads had only us on its face

And who would know, or remark

Or even penalise, an unlit road

That has seen no law or one to lay it

He smiled through his tobacco stained teeth

As he shifted the gear stick

He spoke of why one must respect 

It is for one's self, not just law of the land

So yes the left blinker was lost

Quite recently as I must declare

But when one's devices fail and fade out

It's one's character that shones aloud

The lone mower

The lone mower has mowed the lawns

Amidst the pandemic, amidst all odds

The lawn mower like him has come forth

In times of adversity , meeting it 

The wage is his strength, his motivation

Whilst the others like us are home

Masked, shuttered, fearing death

His wage is his keeper of life

Should he not turn up one day, 

be replaced, not mourned

Our priest that passed away last week, or two I guess

Such apathy, we forgot his end

And then we call out the others on their humanity

While our own we convinently forget

Rejected Burial by the Sea

There is rust where there was paint

And the sea shall claim dominance

For the under of the boat still dips

Though one may have tried protect it

with the livers of the whale

The sea takes what belongs to it

Buries it deep, and it is made one

The ages of men, animals, birds

Lie on the sands the water hides

If you shall ever dive, to find them 

Go forth knowing the sea's grimace

It has a distaste for those who weild

What belongs to it, 

to a point of contentiousness

Rightly so, it has pride and might

Unlike men, who ride on line of sight

Crash at its reefs, and wash ashore

Except those, the sea claims

Shall find happiness and belong to its embrace

I have been afloat, never shored 

The sea hates my guts, 

But the land hates me more.

Coherent Coversations of pseudo Sapiosexuals

I met someone who felt the need

Of meaningful conversations and unhinged deeds

Stating the mind should not mix and dilute

Should be able to undauntedly speak

Then a day passed in our ramblings

She spoke of wit, puns, and standing our ground

I spoke in tones, met her half way

And then her thought led her astray

It was never demanded we be in love

Nor was either into pangs of focus with awe

Today I found she had run for the hills

And left the conversation abruptly still

Why indulge then in heartfelt conversation

Why dive into the stormy black sea

For if one must ask, and if one should receive

Why then should one be a runaway steed.

At dusk I too return

And hop on the ledge, by my bedroom window

Those pigeons roost and annoy me

I hate them yet feed them some birdseed

They seem to ruin my window sill

They poop on my ledge and scatter feathers

The worst is their constant prattling cooing

Has often annoyed my mid noon sleep

Yet  each evening I return to see

The constant annoyance has entrenched deep

Laid eggs, raised squabs, amongst putrid leaves

One must never feed the annoyances

Like I do, for they bring nothing

Yet i ignore their wicked deeds

How many such pigeons screech

As they sap the joys through your heart's breach

Let not these gain footing and stay

For they bring nothing but utter dismay

Recollections

Hey, you remember?

the last time you were here,

you found some eggs, the eagle laid?

yes, they had hatched a while ago

the ones in my backyard are 2 generations past

and now those eaglets are old

to fly into the skies

its cold

how they all look at me

with steely eyes, sharp beaks

i apologize, i digress

in my absurd mind i mistake these vultures for them

why have they come to me?

why do they sit at my chest

I can feel one tickle my rib

the other seems to bubble my blood

ah, little vultures

yes, they are not eagles, what was i thinking

and why would i think of you and our ledge

it was so long ago that you left

these sweet vultures are here with me while i rest

dusk seems to fast approach

as one of the vultures seem to carry me along

they are strong, how does it even manage

this body matter weight ratios

then again, i must be hallucnating

it must one of those vivid dreams

who dreams of vultures and sorts

Hey, you remember?

the last time you were here,

you found some eggs, the eagle laid?

yes, they had hatched a while ago

Explanation:

The poem begins with the speaker addressing someone, asking if they remember the last time they were together. The speaker mentions that during that time, the other person had discovered some eggs that an eagle had laid. The eggs have since hatched, and the eaglets in the speaker's backyard are now two generations old and ready to fly into the skies.

But then, the tone of the poem shifts. The speaker's mind seems to be in turmoil, and they start to see vultures instead of eagles. The vultures are described as having steely eyes and sharp beaks, and they are sitting on the speaker's chest. The speaker apologizes for their digression and acknowledges that they must be hallucinating, as they would not mistake vultures for eagles.

The poem continues with the vultures carrying the speaker along, as dusk approaches. The vultures are described as strong, managing to carry the weight of the speaker's body effortlessly. The speaker questions why they are dreaming of vultures and reflects on how long it has been since the other person left. The poem ends with a repetition of the opening lines, asking if the other person remembers the eagle's eggs that had hatched.

Overall, the poem depicts the speaker's struggle with depression and heartbreak over the departure of a loved one who has left them feeling broken. The vultures in the poem may symbolize the darkness and despair that the speaker feels as they try to come to terms with the absence of their loved one. The repetition of the eagle's eggs serves as a reminder of the passage of time and the changes that have occurred since the other person left, adding to the sense of longing and loss in the poem.

Smouldering green

In dreams I find myself in a forest

Chased by shadows of the ones i have hurt

I rise into the skies sprouting wings

Breathing fire, green glowing, ever consuming

I have often wondered why the imagery

To only know this heart has no peace

In its eagerness to let love remain

It has often chosen to hold the blame

When the lovers wished to depart

Tear apart my dilapidated bleeding heart

I just stood, let them point and curse

Let their words tear me apart

A guttony for pain, or so one must think

Yet i wish not to furnish defence nor explain

I choose to be the flaming beast

Spewing flames, glowing green

If this is for me to bear, so be it

I shall not let my lovers feel pain

I have been known to contain the river

Of Acheron, if one must even compare

So if you wish to go, go free

Fly into what would be your destiny

But while you spread your wings and fly

As you swirl the mist into voritces

I shall not utter a word stand still

In your parting i shall polish my eyes

Train Wreck

The last of the bogies had crashed into the wreck

It was all but sudden, 

This driver thought he was well prepared

Yet when one is riding on tonnes of steel, and composites

One must weigh heavily on dread

The engine with me was the first to slather

Itself upon the walls post the rail stopper

As it hit, my mind lost its grip

Entombed me in the agony of impending pain

The wreck blocking my escape or death

The first few bogies brought in folks

Who beamed of love, and deemed of mine

I have refused such folly, and their vending

They walk amongs the hallways, amongs the others On berths of demands

Who keep their demands, and extort emotional spending

Then entrench themselves, rip the vinyl, slash seat covers

And blame my train, calling it unkept

The next few bogies of near and dear

So called, but they are not so unlike the previous others

These bound in blood, undoable change

Ebbing away my faith in love, in perpetual persistance

Like tapeworms, leeches, and sarcoptic mange 

The last of the bogies rushed into the wreck

Filled to the brim, smelling of brimstone and flesh

Ah the folks, so called friends, rode in the last few

Those that found and set narratives

Cast me as a demon, as they foraged 

Into my soul, for their own life force had waned

They are now merged, into a pile

Of nothing wanted, and unwarranted

The crash and tumble has brought no peace

I feel nothing, than hopelessness

Come Monday, the crews would come

The four, who shall finally end my fails.

Brush stroke bunnies

Brush stroke bunnies warm artistic hearts

In swatches of colours, that stand apart

Such gentleness, amidst the stiff canvas

Of their whiskers and fur, like puffy clouds

Coated under laquer, now yellowed

More that a few hundred years have passed

They remain, while the painter has left

In a hurried life, mostly of somber resent

Maybe in pursuits of gathering his view

The artist left, a piece of the past.

Brush stroke bunnies warm artistic hearts

In swatches of colours, that stand apart

Such gentleness, amidst the stiff canvas

Unlike my words, hidden in ripped pages

Shall stay in the soil, and rot for ages.

Dichotomy

What do I speak of, that has been left unsaid?
Of love, anger, remorse, loss, awe, or woe
I have penned it all, I have penned much more
Of illicit deeds, or grander things, 
of teenage angst, of mature, immature flings
Yet the barrel of my mind overflows
Like cakes of lime that in water drown
Bubble, and fume, like a seething steed
Held back by a barricade, before its freed
I could whitewash my presence and stand proud
Yet the will to do such has run out
It could be a momentary lapse of reason that I loved
Or a crafty arrow, from Madana’s bow
It could be my aloofness to reasoning that I had tread
Into loneliness that I have always dread
Yet in my dichotomy of wants and rejects
I have remorse, but I have no regrets.
 

Why was I so late

Frost wrote about the wind and downy flake

He could, his name had an ounce of cold

An antithesis of his words, that confluence

Mind and soul, joy and woe

Hidden in his works, I often seek

To find my will, to expunge my grief

Like a holy man's book

I hold, 'North of boston', and a boy's lament

Both guiding my now broken soul

Why would I have not lived back then

And heard your pen scribble, pages awash in ink

I would have held the drying vapour

Drenched my mind, crafted a world for myself

Thursday's song

Tell me the sun shines again
How would I know, I am entombed
Until the call of wayward love
Resonates to make my soul dance
So until then, let me rest
Deny me of all that waits
And paint dreams in my lonely mind
Your, your face, kisses fresh as lemon rind.

Saving a poet

 Venture forth on brash and bold
But know that for evermore
you may lose your mind
to mindlessness pragmatica
away from stark emotion
away from the ones around
those causing melancholia
It is but a sweet relief
Though like growing old
one shall knock on these doors
of logic and reason
bearing the overbearing
testing their mettle
then to find meaninglessness
It is a denial to grief
If so by chance you reach
Then
Find the hope beneath the breach
In the tryst of trials and fails
of a poet's trudge of unchartered trails
holding their sanity 
thereby, trying to prevail
Shake their soul and wake them again
For they are lost in such somber tales
Be their guard rail and wedge
Stop them from falling over the ledge

I could watch her for hours

Bare chested, as she lay close

her breasts heaved, brushing my cheek

Rubbing against the bristly beard

Shaved a couple of days ago

I have spent hours 

Cuddled to her, 

resting on her bosom

Hearing her speak, feeling it vibrate

As the air, 

fills her chest, 

It would gently hum, 

Like a flute

At times a harmonica , 

warm and fuzzy

And in between her heart 

Lending the drum, 

My longing for her, though this close

Wanting her more,

As if to merge

Into my own body

Share it, 

To be the other soul

And now more so

Than I have ever

As I have always craved

Even past the thousandth kisses

I find me, longing for her

Forever more

If you would say

Note: This is a very teenish type rambling.

Why was I the only one

That was riddled and ruptured, and burnt down

While the others you held hands of

Were cradled in gentle words and love

Was it the gift of my staying true

Of choosing love, even in rue

Or was I just a passing thought

That held no value, for I had no remorse

When you showed me how you stood 

Half bare at the mirror for him

Coloured in strings of violet

To spend a weekend in his arms making love

But were held back by a chance mishap

Did you see, how my love held on to thee

Though hurtful, but you were by me

And when you were out by the sea

Distanced , hurt, and crying to me

Of how your soul felt crushed

By another man, who you bed

First love, I agreed was hard to let go

And I held you close, felt your woe

I stayed back, for I still had love

Then you met someone new

And held him, in your blissful view

Coaxed and cuddled him in your warmth

Yet he never was ravaged by words

Things you never spoke of to me

Things you spoke of later too

I stayed for I wished for your embrace

For my love had stood strong in Hurt's face

And to now,  where you have walked away

March has been terrible, yours and the month too

For someone who shall never care

You forsake my heart's calling for you

I hid nothing, in my heart though

Nor have I ever needed to be pacified

I have stood my ground of loving 

Waiting for you to hold me in your arms again.

But someday if you shall ever turn back and walk

I would have no questions, and hold your face

Smile back at you, and let you sit

Cuddled up close, a beer, at a random place

But if you choose not to pray tell

What made those men worthy of heaven

Why was only my soul subjected to hell

"Sit a while, let us chat, you have grown

Older and wise," said Kaka beaming in smile

I sat with him, at the tea stall bakhda

The morning mist blending the kettle steam

I signalled to Raju chaiwallah '2 cutting, special'

I was ready to chat with Kaka, sit a while

The years had worn him down

His teeth, yellowed from bidis, 

We used to steal his beedis I remember

Kaka was always kind and sweet, strict too

I offered him my cigarette, and a light

I wouldn't smoke, before him, traditional respect

He nodded in acknowledgement, and spoke

It was a long conversation, of life and god

Philosophy, wars, the old times and all

I heard him through, 

without interruptions, Traditional respect, 

we never speak to elders out of turn

I signalled for two more cutting chais

Heard my teacher, after so long

We spoke past 7 through 9 and the mist had faded

There were others who joined, inquiring his health

I had forgotten how many years he had served

He had given me 6 , and he had served 40

I paused him for a moment and turned around

I found everyone by then had arrived

We all had brought him gifts, as a surprise

The students he had taught and set right.

A teacher may seem to teach us a while

Yet they help us know about life

They arrive when we are at our weakest

Stay and strengthen us, till we can walk miles

This one is for all the Kakas that you know

Spend a thought, and send them love

For when you reach adulthood

Their lessons shall hold your heart and soul.

Steady, strong, always until you breathe.

Why care

One upon the other

Piece by piece

       Had I built, 

       these walls of caution

Upon a big mountain

Of high will, resilient and robust

Out came the wind

Brought in her rise

       Swept the ground beneath

       Felling the towers

Where stood marksmen of senses

Who were mesmerized by her eyes

Good help

Is hard to find they say

      Foolish foolish mind

      That tugs at her act

Why then should I now, or again

Rebuild and rise

Let be

As the dust settles

     My senses shall come forth

     Profusely apologise

What is left for, after all

The land lies unbridled, let it

"We are past that

Aren't we?"

Asked her voice

When I reached out

In rampancy, of condescending glee

She does rejoice

Hearing my plea

Wishing for her return

I morph storms to words

My thoughts awash, lost at sea

Why do I persist

I ask why so

All I hear are echoes

Of her absence grinding

Bearing me down, being my foe

So much has been

Between you and me

I know not if you feel love

I do, but I rather not burden

Yet hope to see you sometime

Like old times

When we both would meet

And ramble on, on things

Sometimes a hour, sometimes nights

Though have walked away 

From feelings of bonding and words

I hope to still find us

If not for love 

Then for cuddles, beer, and a kiss

Rigid

I am one for surrealistic paintings

Nothing too natural 

Dreamy, hazy, of the sea and flowers

Talking of the aching, talking of the waitings

For realism is a snarky mistress

Snooty and commonplace

I rather look at oil and pastels

Smudged, speaking volumes of distress

What's the use of perfect and precise

That elevates my eyes to the painter's

I prefer to ponder, extrapolate, and thereof

Let the poem speak to my mind's eyes

I still am stilled by Aivazovsky's seas

And mistyfied by Gogh's sunflowers

I refuse to attribute or acknowledge

Anything that puts my mind to ease.

Sugary Black

Sprinkle some sugar, 

and make it taste sweeter

Isn't that how we deal with bitterness

Yet in so many of heart's bitter moments

We seem to abruptly run out of it

How addictive sweetness can be

Like a kiss, a touch, an embrace, even words

Yet they same soul, can invert such emotions

And Nature in tow will salten a wit

Strength to persevere, strength to believe

Are often a crutch, on which limps sense

They are the first to arrive, also the first to leave

They are the tenacious foes of dissent

Sprinkle on, sprinkle along

Lock, stock, and barrel throw in all

Often the heart will break and fall

Burn the sugar, carbonize than caramalise 

For unlike the flame of love

The void despises all.

The two

In the summer heat

The chirpers hide amongst tall grass

So do snakes

Hiding and lying in wait

For a slip of claw, to gulp and gloat

One may curse the slitherer

For the chirpers are tiny and demure

Yet both are just the same

One not more precious than the other

One picks at fences

The other slides in it's underbelly

Yet both are beasts

Who ruins what, there's no telling

I pass no judgement, for their actions

Both are alive, living their passion.

Dark as the night

Slithering fright

To showcase its prowess

And all its might 

Memories dawn of my duress

Yet in my harrowed mind

I hold myself, stay kind

For grief and scorn

Shall be a thorn

And burn my soul to cinders

Should you ever kinder

A fool's errand At best, 

Making myself pretend

Swimming in your absence

Wade in it's shallow, drowning at it's bend

Praying, Hope be my lighthouse

Knowing you are but a recidivist

Noons drying the morning's mist

I look to another evening's wist 

A lot has to pass before the end

Build, break, fall, rise, yet stay Bright

Another day passes out of sight

Knowing you

As the heaving bodies lie

Deckered, face to face, eye to eye

Do you ever remember the moments

Where you and I were melting

Into a pool of wild love and sentiments

When your ferocity of lust escalates

And as you look up

Closing your eyes

Does your hair still spray sweat 

All over him and the walls

Or was it only me, that showered in the drizzle

When your skin would awaken

And you would twirl,in ecstasy and madness

Do you steal a watch, to see 

If he watches you, at your fragility

Do the breaths give rise to words 

Of humor, or do either think out aloud

Suddenly embrace, meet with your lips

Do your eyes still draw a joyous river

Does his soul bathe in its running course

Or does he roll away, at love makings end

While you stare to the roof, and just pretend

Learning to drown

You weren’t there when I silently wept
Nor were you, when I cried out loud
Yet I turned up, when roles reversed
And you would stab me with icy words
Love, you said was the offer
Only to sear my soul with spite
I found these moments joyous too
For these were unknowns in my fortitude
One must learn, for one will;
Wilfully or by force
I had never learnt to curse myself
With you my love, I have learnt to

The other day

There beside the old office road 

We would often meet, ale and fume

And part, in opposite directions

Sometimes together, other times in sequence

I would always leave last, I was stubborn

I would watch her leave

Dead eyes; yes, I remember

That is what she would finally name them

She would watch me stare at her

Then she left one last time one meeting

It was her leaving that always hurt

The most, I guess

This was my heart choosing to

Yet I was always keen to see her

Even post the genesis of her retrograding

 

Now that it has come to pass

I no longer visit those roads, by choice

They remind me of myself

Foolish man; yes, I remember

That is what my heart always called me

So today I found a new bar

Where the ale and fumes scatter far

Under the open roof, reclined in my comfy chair

And as drinkers are a traditional kind

To lost comrades and love I sprinkle

A few drops of ale into the air

You must pass

And merrily so, you must

This adventure dust has settled 

Head on home, you should

I will stay here, and stay lost

Hoping to be rendeded in some memory

I would ask for your staying

I could, but its chided by your insistance 

And so I will not

There is one bit that you must know

In previous versions, I left, yet never did

For I have been here, like brook and stream

Meandering, waiting, for your toes to dip in

Knowing full well, you leaving would knell

Shatter my soul, outdoing hell

When you reach, do turn back and wave

Watch the dust settle, as it showers the grave

Of your wish to have reanimated me

I'm back to the still-born, 

the universe deemed me to be

In the darkness 

Where the souls have often feared

Stumbled, wished for respite, struggled

I have stood at the center stage

Burning bright, Shiny

Through frost, and storms

Letting myself melt, feeding the flame

Yet the darkness only takes

I stuggle, and burn brighter

For I know my purpose

It is not to ask, or belong

Nor be cared for,

I have no say, no will, nor feelings

Only those in the dark do

The years have battered me

The darkness is permanent

I am surrounded by it

I cast a shadow of me

Blinding my feet

There the monsters wait

Taunting, gnawing my heels

I hear their whispers

Its dying withouth death

To anticipate, but not end

I wish to sleep

For the waking has been forever

Yet I cannot choose

For I stand not by choice, but due

I wish for a gust of wind 

Sudden, without warning, abrupt,

And at the moment, I shall cease

For no one saw me being consumed 

Light up one for me

She hurried out yelling

Seems like it has been a while

With her there is no telling

She could sulk over sulking

And then sulk some more

If she had a chance to

I hand her a lit cigarette

She blesses me with her eyes 

In acknowledgement

Who gives you that thankful look

When you give objects of harm

She leaned back to the dusty wall

Behind the parked buses

Were we often hid for a drag

She looked at me and her watch

At the fleeting time sulking again

And kissed my cheek mid exhale

Ah the little chance meetings

Where we could find some time brood

But then to find peace, in our company

Only to return and run amok

Now I spend my time alone

Not my choice, but the universe wills

Spewing smoke into my isolation

As if to fill her void somehow

I sit beside the glow of a warm wood fire

It glows so gently, humming and crackling

The flames dance, rise and fall

Making my shadow dance on the house wall

I can hear the water from a nearby stream

And the sound of my kettle's escaping steam

Nothing like a warm glass of tea

I get up to pour a cup for me

I wish to call out loud, speak of my love

About your absence gnawing at my heart now

I decide to pour two cups, and place then apart

One for my self, one for my heart

I remember those rainy days of july?

The power would go out, the phones would die

I have often walked through flooded roads

Speaking of you to myself, mocked by toads

The weather is cold, and so is my heart

Everything and you choose to keep us apart

My heart could freeze a river, if my soul cried

This absence is the ink that fills my void

Bring the rain

Bring the Rain

Brand my pain

Send the winds along

To drown my wail

Then pause both a bit

Let my tears drop amidst

Into the puddle formed 

Around my feet

Remind me how a grown man can cry

Soothe me with thunder as a lullaby

Let me feel pure agony and breakdown

Shelter me under the dark clouds

Bring the rain

All over again

This time to ease the searing pain

Remind me why I can survive

Heal me to hurt me again

The road to take

Here is a route, should you feel confused

And hit a road that forks into many

Choose wisely, unlike Frost's friend 

Take one not out of spite

Say there are 2 , with one towards left one right

Take the right, for then the road will remain right

If you took the left, the right is left

And such instability is not warranted

If forked in 3, take the one that goes right

For right is might

left being unstable, middle is mediocrity

If four take the most right

Lest I need to remind, right is might

Most right is most might

If the road ends and gives way to a ledge

Sit there a while, take in the view

And know such instances are far and few

Then turn about walk back, head home

There is no place like it, 

For there is no place like home.

Heart for sale.

How much for my heart? I asked a lady
Handing over my loving heart
at the village fair
one August
She winked and threw it to my face
And laughed, and roared
“not worth a pretty penny, not worth a penny”
I picked it up and headed on
Trod on the dusty roads
Heading towards the next town
Hoping to be accepted once
I met a lady riding a horse
She offered to let me ride along
As I sat behind, and her hair brushed my face
I asked, how much for my heart?
She was silent until we touched town
As I hopped down, she dismounted too
Held my heart, looked at it up and down
Then threw it back to my face
And laughed and roared
“not worth a pretty penny, not worth a penny”
I picked it up and headed on
To the town square, where the markets were
Chancing upon an empty stall
I sat down, set my heart, leaned against a wall
Classic salesman, “one genuine loving heart for sale” said I
I caught a glimpse of a passer-by
She stood dressed in yellow, she stood and stared
I plopped my heart into her hands
Pitched to her in my nicest voice
it has had no master
It has had no hate,
One that will love and wait,
How much shall you pay, for this beautiful heart?
She rolled it over in her hand,
Polished it a little by rubbing on it with sand
Weighed it by tossing and made a cautious face
I knew what was coming, I was ready to face disgrace
She smiled and asked, “why is it for sale?”
I told her stories, all my broken-hearted tales
She held my heart again and asked for a barter
I told her to choose whatever
For to sell it was my gain
She offered her own, in its place
Only darker, filled with nothing but contempt
Like a good salesman would, I promptly nodded

Promptly underwent a quick exchange

Now on to the next town

To Sell this too.

 

In fading fragrances of patchouli and lavender

Shattered in sadness, ripped asunder

Are poems from my diary, who cares

She wouldn't, She hasnt, She won't either

Like a drop of white pigment, in vats of grey

I have penned words, that have only strayed

Manipulated my heart, calmed it, absolved rage

Made it bend, break, mend, to make her stay

In such tomfoolery of childish essence

One can pen poems of hurtful absence

For such distraught is the Hemlock

The soul drinks to die, wilt, or mock

I write, sometimes to her, sometimes about

Of my now frail heart, reeking aloud

In utter failings to not have nor hold

Nor held, nor remembered, nor read, nor told