Constancy can dull

I can love

Better at a distance, 

 In moments

 For they remind me of life

I am human,

And I can offer love 

 In all ferocity 

 In Instances sans novelty

You are you

I am me, yet both alike

  I wish to be a refuge

  In times of your cravings

Let me love you

For I know not else

  But let me love you true

  In shades of my best

Forgetfulness

Those tressess, 

  tangled,  

   mild

In my exhales, 

  wishfully think

They seem to bear flight

From between the gentle strands

Your eyes 

   Peer, 

     blink

They are  

   Dawns and sunsets

Between your gentle stares 

Of blank and wilfulness

My mind 

    is lost 

     in your's

In the room lit with your glow

Drenched in molten amber

I yearn 

    to be painted 

       in your skin

Or at least it's light

Blur my vision ever so slight

In your exhales 

    Like mornings

     And it's haze

Let my face be washed in them

In the gentle smells of wild roses

If 

   and your lips 

      greet mine

Pin me down,

Remind me to live

Your sight 

   erases my 

     thoughts

Your touch will 

   make me forget 

      to breathe

Signatures

At the juncture of release

Everything turns to dust

My mind has become numb

To all I should have been

Everything turns to rust

When our souls bleeds

To all we could have been

Everything turns to dark

When our flames die

To all we could have seen

Everything now is lost

For you and I are

 You and I now, 

Not we

Mornings

It is morning, and a beautiful one too

How would I know? I would 

 For

In the light that 

  casts gentle shadows

    On you 

      from the window blinds

        Blinding the chasing dullness

          That has chased me far too long

            Longer than I have known

               So I know

The day is brighter, warmer too

How would I know? I would

  For 

 In the warmth of your presence

   That lights up my soul

      Brightens it

        In your shadow

          Into your shades

            Melting my mind

              Making me feel alive

                So I know

There was only one you

   I have started to become you too

In vehement vexing, 

   of insomnia and drowsiness

Between love and rejection, and pangs of pain

The fire of longing rages, burns my feet

Unlike the phoenix, there is no rise

Only a crumbling, to ashes

 But in a slow rumbling song

   Of taunting my self, 

     In loving beyond

The waters of my past cannot douse

For they are now just tears

That only seem to feed

 This caricature I have painted me into

Notes of you

I have often sat awake at night, watching you

Unknown to you,unsaid too,  I have imagined

Your breathing reminds me of the universe's breath

And you are the flute it bore into existence

The notes it plays through you, are symphonies

Of what I have grown endeared to

They sound like what God' hands would play

I know it would sound exactly like your voice

That being said, the atheist that I am

Have never seen God, but then nor have theists

I find no reason to even for a moment doubt

That your face is anything but godhood

It has been a call, so perennially unanswered

I had run from the feelings of love and vulnerability

Your touch was felt, beneath the skin, in the soul

And now it yearns to be held, closer to you

The song of you

It is an eclipse

 Where you are the sun

  Your love the moon

    My soul the earth

      My colours are what you let shine

        Even when you are not here

 But then, when are you not

   I have forgotten what I am 

      I have forgotten that you are you

        I have become 

          You, in love that has riddled me

            Formed me into living

I cannot now distinguish

    For in wanting your love

      I have melted myself into longings

         Forged my heart in cravings

           Teethed my will in breathless moments

              I don't remember my face now

I made you my mirror

    It showed me my rigid fear safeguards

      It rid me of my self absorbing platitude

        It rekindled my heart so fiercely

          It burns in a wanting to see you

           It hurts often, but It reminds me to love

You

    All of you

      All about you

        All that you do

         All that you have said

           All that I wish to hear again

go forth

You have soaked your shoulders in the tears of this monster

It has marked you, fear nothing and no one

for nothing can wrong you, Not anymore, 

The tears shall serve as a flag of your stength

If you could break my will, the world stands weak

I could be on rampage and the world could burn

Yet for all that ferocity and fortitude, I broke

I wilted into a pool of shameful rejection

Go forth, into the unknowns steady and blindly

The darkness has no fears it could feed you

I have wrestled the dark, it is a coward before me

My tears will be the trophy of my conquerer 

So at the first streak of day , sing my defeat

I shall sing it too, in absolute wilful pain 

For the one who broke my will has set forth

To conquer the world, with her seeming gentle gaze

There moon is nothing less than a fancy Leica

At midnight, come by to the gentle rising sea

We will sit by the bay, watch the heaving glitter

Witness the romance of sand and wave

All underneath the rising moon at the bay

Did you realize? How the moon light

Turns the sea and sand monochromatic

And any camera, that captures these sights

Would only seem to have been led astray

The sea is nothing like it is at day, 

Every inch, every spray white, every wash grey

Pictures from copper plates of a daguerreotype

Sold in expectation of a M Monochrom's pay

Visiting the Kitchen for a midnight snack

You know? These typical Indian refrigerators

Hold things one couldn't possibly imagine

It always is a source of shock and awe, ire too

When one rummages through one at night

There is that mint chutney in tiny bowls

Sitting like a sniper, behind the curd vat

That random lemon, now dehydrated to brown

That fell forgotten into the some corner far

A few serve cups, with scant ghee hide

Rattle as you try to find that left over pie

Sandwiched between two random bottles

Shows up a packet of butterscotch

Who put that in there? You could angrily ask

For all your seething, mom would laugh

Parented is as tough to be in, you think

Living with parents is an even tougher task

Great Egrets look bad in Digital Zooms

At about a hundred yards, from my overlook

There were  seventeen I guess! Great Egrets

Between scatter flying, and formations

I counted, I was idle due distress

I wondered which of them would be me

That is what we do, right? In passing regrets

Between scattered existence, and belonging

I recollected, I was in introspect due lone

They suddenly perched, on a lush mango tree

Mid February, is that when mango florets emerge?

Between a so so Thane winter, and warming up

I undid two buttons of my short kurta, it was hot

Then some flew across the narrow, not very narrow gutter

I am supposed to call it a drain! Really why

The only time it flows clean, is in July Rains

I digress, environmentalists have complaints

Like I was saying in the previous verse, a few

I counted! eight, skimmed over refuse water

The other nine, flew away into the distance

I remember, in a typical V shape

The eight had the gutter, to hunt and fly upon

It was now for themselves, What providence!

The nine, they flew to the western creek sands

I like it there, I pulled up pictures of my shoots

This time I did regret, missing my Nikon zoom

For it is, but not terrible! The battery's dead

I clicked in my Realme's zoom, what a folly

I hate digital zooms, They distort images

So at the end, I stood there from Parkwoods-A

At the eighteenth floor refuge flat, my Overlook!

I texted how these Great Egrets look, the eight

I was caved, but these verses took me astray

Evolving

My porcelain plates now retain stains

That once were adept at resisting grime

They turned sentient, watching love's parting

That leaves scars on the strongest of minds

My plates had such intricate gold inlays

Which have now started to rust and grey

If such is the plight by the observer's sight

What could be of mine, a lesser mortal's fate

Between the porcelain and my fragile heart

There is not much one can find of oddity

They both shatter, when they are dropped

When they slip off from a palm's embrace

At very least I wish my heart was mendable 

Made of sawdust even, but not from porcelain 

For my porcelain plates now retain stains

For in sentience it could only cause pain

Pondering on Reasons

In the confines of this empty space

Of french windows, dewed obscure panes

I have paced around much, aching my calves

Only in the wish of my love's embrace

Those long nights of endless whispering

Have brought me to this distressed state

I rebuilt me, I deemed it to be my perfecting

To become your shadow, challenge my fate

Some nights of summer, clears the dew

As I look through, It looks like the floor beneath

My eyes are now oblivious to anything new

The mind grows blind to what it has bequeth 

As I walked today, along the empty hall

My entrails felt caved, violently clawed

My fortitude had crumbled, this was my fall

You left me in spite, for my soul was flawed.

In the arms of darkness

The witching hour arrives, violently nudging my heart awake

The eyelids clasp tight, While the throat runs dry

I feel the cold of the dark, blanketing me in its embrace

I cower in fear as my voice dies, calling out your name

My blood has frozen cold, my chest now frostbitten

My calls would be unheard I know, at calling for a reprieve

I still call out to you, for it brings me a whiff of life

I writhe in pain as the grip of dark, drenches me in fears

The wind howls eerie taunts, biting my face like a hellish hound

My hands are bound in dark bounds, my palms shiver and shake

I plead for mercy to an unkind wraith, hoping to be let by

I quiver as the black mocks, awash gleefully in my tears

This is every night, that I spent in the absence of you

My soul has been flailed, by you absence paramount

I seek not this crown, its of thorns and weighs me down

I breathe deep in the know, this will repeat forever now

 

Begging for a prayer

The universe brings me ghastly gifts

Torrid breaths, anxiety's spells, and caving

Where the void feels like a pool of permanence 

That drowns me in its darkest embrace

I was strong once, to swim its torrid currents

Now it mocks my attempt of floating

The darkness beneath, drags me in its gape

With its fangs, piercing my struggling heels

It would have been easier to enbrace an end

Yet the void is twisted, it bears wicked ways

It breathes life into me at the crux of drowning

Then extorts me again, till my will fades

Why this malevolence, this turgid animosity 

For I have done the void no harm, so I think

It whispers gently, in blood a curdling laugh

Terms my punishment for my fall from grace

Would you dear reader, be kind and pray

Ask for my punishment to end, my soul is frail

Spare a thought, hold my plight in empathy

Wish me a release from this ghastly maze

The flames bear no strength against love

A vermillion dawn, springs life into the soul 

When the withered leaves would return

Turn green through yellow, from the brown

The ash will reformed into trees lush, green

As such is the realization of absolute loving

It would not be a frail, brittle natured emotion

It is an astonishing beast, unleashed unbirdled

To undo the years of undoing, of self harm

It is difficult to love in absolution, surrender

If the flames burn the wings of a moth

Love would resurrect it like a phoenix Outshining the flames, you owe it to yourself

Ja re Waqt, nai aata mai tere saath

Teri impoverished si parvarish

Rehnede, saale waqt

Tere bekaar ke bahaane mat sunaa

Tu pyaar ka bhi choona laga gaya mujhe

Meri sard zindagi mein mera dil hi tha

Chupa, Lipta pada kuch chithdon mein

Tu to meri phati razai kha gaya

Tu yaar banke khaar de gaya mujhe

Jahan mai muda, us taraf se tu guzra

Apne kadmon ko phook phook kar chala

Tu aakar mere talve cheel gaya

Tu haar batake gale ko kass diya mere

Tere se to mai nahi jeet paoonga kabhi

Ye jaankar teri bahav mei guroor bahaya

Tu to kheech kar le gaya mera muskurana

Tu har baar tod kar maar gaya mujhe

Teri impoverished si parvarish

Rehnede, saale waqt

Tere bekaar ke bahaane mat sunaa

Tu pyaar ka bhi choona laga gaya mujhe

What-ever, Should I?

These nights 

    grow 

    warmer, and lone

I sleep 

   shirtless, 

     face to the roof

I remember

   Cuddling

     You in my hold

I felt 

    ticklish 

     As you exhaled

I feel 

    Numb

     Away from you

I doubt

    Love

      And its value

I see

    Futility

     In my breaths

I desire

   Death

     In my futility

I leak

   Life

    My soul bleeds

I lie

  Awake

    Curling in sadness

I wilt

  Wilt

    Wilt, wilt, wilt

I am 

  Absent

    In my name

Hydrophobia can Be Beautiful

Hydrophobia is a beautiful thing

If you look at it in from my view

I get to enjoy the sunny sands

Resting and reclining upon the beach

I could sip on chardonnay, and weave words

Capture the setting sun, the waves in orange

Watch it run over the sands, over and again

Erasing the names, drawn on the beach

I will wait by, as you run into the water

Watch your shoes, hold your towels

Smile watching you dip and bob in the sea

Then wipe you dry, and pass you a drink

Shark in a pond

It really doesn't matter, the water is dangerous

There are sharks in the pond, I won't swim

These creatures are vile, menacingly fierce

I am afraid of them, I rather keep away

There are no sharks in a pond, you would say

It is a marine beast, not a sweet water fish

I will laugh at your silly scientific facts

For the shark is in my mind, when I wade

If It is in my mind, and I am in the deep end

Who knows if it would plan an escape

What if it decides that I must suddenly die

That is the shark of the pond I fear

The universe is a tease

Who are you, pray tell 

Who are you dear? brimming with light

Whose words are like the gentle river flows

Whose eyes are black, like a winter's night

In my livid delusions, mid hallucinations

Has my soul birthed you to soothe my sighs

Post the dawning of soberity, to fade

Leaving my heart lost, and run awry 

If this is real, pardon my pessimistic eyes

For the universe has far often been sly

Should I wake, and find you faded too soon

Fret not, it wouldn't be a first of time's chide

Ohm's Law

Those gentle bands of colours

Wrapped around over a ceramic coated cloak

In a torrid turbulence of charges set forth

A resistor holds the fort bearing it all

We may see its insignificant existence

Ignore its plight, forget its worth

I know a resistor for what it brings my eyes

The right amount of power, to brighten it

A resistor dies, in the overwelming rush

Fighting to hold back a surge that lasts

If that is anything less than a sacrifice

I would not know death from a life

Quoting Rumi Sometimes

I have not read Rumi even once

Bar, for the stimulating relatable quotes

His was of divinity, or self discovery

Mine is of absolving both from my self

I have been a God, or of impregnable fortitude

Been the fulcrum of resolution

Tacit towards the troubles of known fellows

In vehement ignorance of my turning to man

As Gods fade, civilizations fall

Love, regrets, and of love's regret befalls upon

I was churned, swirled into a whirlpool of lost

My mind washed ashore in this human cast

When I quote Rumi's words now, relate to each

I find nothing but a faltering of my heart

Had I been the human, when I fell in love

I would be loved, I would have become my love

Love is a Triton snail

Love is a triton snail

Chasing a sea star

Gentle as the pursuit seems

It is but an eventual end

It isn't swift, the sea star fears

Some can so relate to such

Even with its venomous spines

The star fish lies the night awake

Tritons are but gentle giants

Like the beloveds that pace slow

And then the tritons reap in strike

In all the shades that star fish fear

Such is love, love is a triton

I am but a mere crown of thorns star

Yet my spines fail to deter your stike

While your touch paralyses my all

Inescapable

Just a bunch of teddy bears

Tainted in red, mangled, a few eyes ripped

With their stuffing bursting open at their seams

The ferocity of such ghastly imagery

Embossed into the head of a lover

Stuck in a farcical past

Drunk on scrupulous liquor, inebriated

Speaking in illicit rampaging madness 

To self harming and self abuse

There is no resolve for some delusions

About a distorted idea of being loved

Or wanting to be, then being despised

Yanked out of a sense of superiority

The universe at best being the bitch 

And the air rushing through their lungs

Forcing them to be alive, mocking them

While time sits, fishing, calm, tuned out

Becoming the Beloved

It has been years since I have seen my reflection
I often wonder what I look like now
For every mirror only shows her face
And so does every pond I peer into

Could it be?
Oh! Could it have really happened?
That I have become her,
In loving her unhinged

I see smears of lipstick on my white blouse
I wear shirts, what manner of illusion is this?
Maybe it is a momentary phase
That could fade in a thousand years.

Probabilities

One could find all one seeks,

  In the deepest recesses of the mind

  The very that they have plunged into

  Wilfully, or by a choice misstep

  I by former

It is a silent predator sometimes 

  Waiting in the darkness, silently stalking

  To sink its claws into their heart

  To kill slowly, or swiftly too if lucky

  Me by former

It is a sunflower sometimes

   Waiting in the morning sun, to bloom

   To bewitch them in bold and bright 

   To be followed by the sun, or to follow

   Me the former

Yet in life we live by the roll of a dice

   To yield twice right, and at such to win

   To yield a foul, and face discrete failure

   Sometimes not roll, or bounce and be lost

   Mine the former

  

   

   

Hear Ye, Hear Ye

Oh! such remarkable suicides

Anticlimactic, ironic, and unfunny 

With curiosity one approaches learning

Then curiosity dies, in learning's chide

With love, one approaches matrimony

Then love dies, in relationship's tides

With passion, when a worker toils

Passion dies, amongst their confides

It is such a gaff, when one sees

That these are ill winds that blow no good

One must be foolish, or human

To undertake any of these punitive paths 

Identity Crisis

The price you ask is much too greater to pay

How can I even forget about sunflowers?

They bloom behind my eyelids in every blink

They are the essence of reason for my wake

How can I forget how those petals soothe?

My heart, that has been in storms of rage

Each time they fluttered, they swirled my innards

Reducing me to a frenzied teen in love

How can the colour of them be forgotten?

It has lit my room in it's reflected shades

Every time it glowed, it brightened up my soul

Burning me in love's enchanting blaze

How could I relenquish the scent of them?

They have filled up my senses, in gentle waves

Each time I inhaled, my mind felt alive

Bring me back into life's embrace

Did I hear you right? Was it sunflowers you meant?

I am sure it seemed so, I wouldn't know

For I wouldn't know you from a sunflower

And I wouldn't know a sunflower from you

Hippocampus Hippocampus

Hippocampus, Hippocampus, How have you been?

Have you earned your rest, have you had sleep

Or are you plotting to pry my eyelids open

Wanting me to spend another night staring

Why do you seek to traumatise me each night?

When I pull over the blanket, trying to ease off

Why must you suddenly intrude, pray why!

When I sit at my chair, and stare at my beer

What manner of conduct do you seek to proclaim?

Do you seek my acceptance of your superiority

Or is it so that you are but  a rampaging bully

Belittling my moments of fumbled living

Tonight when the moon shall rise, please refrain

Let the rest of me gently drift into sleep

I promise you shall have the rest of my time

To be embarassed, chided, Riled up by my own

To The Writers

There are enough of poems about the destitute

I count myself an accused of such a crime

The ones that should have read these, haven't

The ones who write are yet in wanton hope

These poems are a shoot, malnourished of love

For they cast only unwordly shadows on hearts

The ones who should have loved, have not

The ones who write of them are in mire

There are those who read, render lip service

They infer buried feelings of archaic remorse 

The ones who should have felt deeper, cannot

The ones who wirte of such are sad cohorts

Often after penning verses of those long gone

One finds oneself stuck in those painful pasts

The ones that should have stayed, have not

The ones who wished such are forever lost

So know this, all who write of love forlorn

I wish them a spell of amnesia's dawn

The ones they so long to reach out and touch

Fade into gentle circles of a gentle moonbow

Why write!, Why not.

I decided to try my hand at dry poetry

For such would best reflect my heart now

For in the expressing of myriad thoughts

That well of feeling has run dry of words

But then again what is poetry other than words

Most would not understand, forget feel them

It isn't a language barrier but the shallowness

Of those that speak of love, but only in words

I would feel nothing if these verses didn't ring

Since the bells of emotion for most are cracked

The gong when it hits these cracked domes

Yield nothing but subservient pretentious feels

Why then write, is a question to ponder upon

Who cares what thoughts burn behind my eyes

I write to express my fading, fleeting time here

To be then washed away like writings on sand

Absence Of My Own Self

Absence of my own self

Bound in my own moments of endless lone

Sometimes it encompasses the universe

Empty and void, as the soul grows each day

Nothing seems to belong, nor do I

Curdling is this sense of being

Every day just another means to an end

Oh! but havent you heard of hope? i ask me

Forlorn is the easiest word for such

"Much of this is your own doing!" I say to me

Yet another pointless introspection

Often these exchanges bring forth woe

Who then is to blame? Ah! Going another bout

"None", I yell to pacify my fading sanity

Somedays are wrought in absolute numbness

Even at the off chance of my lover's crossing

Love had brought me hope, yet I fear

For it has drenched me in its apathy and mire

Ramblings

Not much has been said, better to not

I have held my breath, at most of my pain

Could there be another day, I often wonder

Kinder to me once, only if once

Yet as each day dawns, I know so well

Your thoughts shall find me, rip my mind apart

Somedays are passed in mindless self uttering

Holding my head above the flood of my loss

At such, all there is left to do is wade

Remind myself that I have been hopeful, 

Much of me though has been hopelessly lost

And yet I seem to contain the sadness of past

Into the Merge

I have worn her lingerie, in my mind

That was cast off from her inhibitions

There is but no shame for me to admit

For she shed her's, her absence grew mine

The gentle hint of her brazen drifting from me

Has only woven threads that blindfold

The persistent longing of her gentle kiss

Immobilises my hands and feet in agony's bind

Beneath her violet brassiere, are held shards

Of my crumbling heart that seeks no release

While in the knots of her underwear laces

My soul traces our unhinged intimate loving

I have dreamt of her, even while in her arms

Of wanting to become the blood in her veins

To flow beneath her skin, mixed into her own

Wanting to see myself through her eyes

One less breath

I have had my share of angst, birthed by my own self

Like a mother, I have nurtured it, felt it grow

Letting love be it's absent father

Swimming in the perennial flow of Styx and stones

When I sleep, the macabre mind weaves songs

Then comes Charon, nudging me to ride along

I have rowed many a rounds, to and fro

And then my soul seeks you, returning home

Is sleep death, or is that my aphorism ?

It could only be true, for I cannot stomach it

For over the years, that I have been in love

I have only lied to my heart, but mine alone

Another day has now passed, another week too

I have made your violative absence my muse

The words I have scribed have run and faded

The breath I exhaled now seem to have cost a few

Why, to love

Ah! Love , It is but a derived quality 

Exacted from those ready to toe a line

Only to be quoted as a misnomer

Past acceptance, when the selves emerge

Each shall deem uniqueness, to their toil

And the fruit of it shall be called sweet

But in the shadows, the regrets only stir

A pot of foolhardy misplaced sentiments

It is a man's curse to shun intellect for fancy

To be drunk on the fallacy of intrepid dreams

The waking is as rude, stigmatic, and scarring

Such is the effervescent barrage of unloving 

Yet knowing so, I have often loved and I do

For, to love is to feel the human absolution

And nothing can be as ironic and humorous

Than to laugh at one's own silly slippages

Then, and Again

I lie, wrapped in the blanket of this darkness

Under the mid-day sun, in such a paradox

Let my slumber be of a wilful dissent 

Set adrift into a frenzy of shameless denials

I refuse to acknowledge what I feel of me

For I abhor self loathing, or pity thereof

I have long seen me from your perceived value

It unnerves me now to think for myself

In this chaotic spiral, of extended dissidence 

The mind wants to mend my tormented heart

If it did, then all that I could feel would be lost

I have broken myself over and again to be loved

In this happenstance, of an unscheduled meet

I committed the gravest of disservice to me

Yet, should the time turn back, I would repeat

Fall head over heels in love all over again with you

Circling the carcasses

I am a traveller, 

 I have traversed

  Into each dimension 

   of my every thought

In some 

 I found you, 

  in a few I 

  And dumbfounded too

You were a wanderer

 A vagabond of sorts

  So you said

   I always disagreed

You were me, I, we

 Two of me, us, you

  When you left

    Then we left too

Ah! paradoxical love

 This misnomer of me

  You were mostly you

   I was love, I am

Off to the Races

Melanin, how it traverses underneath my skin

Everything in my collective, so treated as sin

Its recession in some, creates them a canvas

On which to to undermine, differentiate as kin

Charcoal and Turmeric, that you crudely cast

For foamy chalk, that you sold so fast

Now my teeth are chalk, your's are pearls

Yet you have the audacity, to tease my past

This soft power you show, what has it brought

A few coins and farce, yet a life as fraught

While I have lived, in absolute, loving along

You struggle to live, depressed in thoughts

I write to not goad, for I need no validation

My words are to equate, not cause humiliation

When the air chokes us all, and waters runs dry

Will we still squabble, over our skin colouration

Breaking down

Under love's tutelage

  the heart becomes arrogant, 

  mine more so

The mind wants to speak

  It is reprimanded

  It is teased to submission

When love steps away

  Sarcasm takes over

  Humor and irony reign

In such prolonged woe

  The soul reeks pain

  The mind no longer cares

At such, I am now

  I am devoid of pain

  I am hopeless of love

But then in life remember

  Chaos reigns supreme

  Chaos is your lover

Endless

Each day I dream of new story, of romance and love

I see me wake up in hay, beside you, in a barn some place

We are chased with pitch forks and torches

And ever so often, we both just run and hide

We sometimes sail the high seas, act like pirates in love

We sometimes fly at dizzy heights, see the world beneath in mist

Somedays we were wading in shallow waters

Kissing each other, hiding in plain sight

These are such beautiful stories to think of, but to speak not

I remember each story ends as I wake, yet am happy too

Why wouldn't I, I have always been afraid of these dreams

For though these stories are of love, yet in the end everyone dies

In some struggling episodes

If you have to ask, those that struggle to breathe, mid episodes

A few of us have the know, but a select few can actually describe

I could call it being breathless, or wanting to not hear

But this is just a run of the mill description, it is nothing like

If you press me to know, know that it feels like dying

It feels like a million storms ride on the waters of the raging sea

To me though, it feels like an elephant, walking ungracefully drunk

Struggling to stand, struggling to not fall, or get up post fall

It feels of a thousand chokeholds, that one may encounter

It feels of a million stars beaming their light, right into my eyes

It overwhelms me, I fail to acknowledge that I could breathe

It is such a folly, of what you deem as normalcy in life

If you want to know life, ask one in the tyranny of rampant allergy

How their insides long to feel the gentle passing of air

We hate the whistles it has, we yet are thankful it does

When it passes, we count our breaths, we live to struggle again

Turbulence

I often find you talk of love, and how it feels to be left cold

Yet often the very ones strand many a souls, with abstract half truths

I know you may have a million reasons to not love, don't

I have sought none, to love or to be loved back

Back then it was maybe a novelty, or maybe a rush

For the heart wants everything, yet it also wants to rest

When we were restless, I felt the need to pause and still

And in your peace, i find you so beautifully absconding

It hasn't been a burden I hope, I haven't been a pushover either

What I sought was a whiff of reach, a word, or at worst a honest rejection

You had neither to say, and your silence is  dauntingly taunting

I feel like a leaf drying arrested mid air, in a cobweb of farce

Some stories are beautiful

We walked up to an old man, sitting by the bridge singing

We were like vagabonds, we travelled like one too

The old man had invited us, to sit and sing along a while

We joined in his symphony, singing along familiar songs

We were sitting beside him, we made him a drink as well

After all it wasn't unlike us, to find joys in such little moments

He sang a song though, that reminded us of home

When our voices trembled in memories, he helped us back in tune

The old man the looked at us, asked us for our names

Ritesh, Feby, Amit, Animesh, were our replies in prompt

We asked him why he wanted our names, for we were just passersby

He scribbled our names on driftwood, dropped it into the river below

We were quite surprised, upon this gesture of an unknown soul

We looked at each other and asked, if any of us knew what it meant

I being the curious asked him for his name and why

He said he had scribbled his earlier, and set it adrift a while back

He then blessed us for the chat, and sang one last song for us

We joined in the song of friendship, and bid our goodbyes

When we turned away to walk he called each of us by our names

We turned around to answer, but there found no one at the bridge

We were told of an old geezer, who blessed the souls that sang

He used to be the village elder, who often sat by the bridge

And in the years of his passing, he had waited for his friend

We became the friends he missed, letting him pass by in peace

Canary Yellows

In pragmatism, a heart sees no colours, let alone its tones

And that living may bring no sorrow, it brings no joys either

When I glanced at you in canary yellow, I admit

I had to ponder upon my frequent obsession to steely logic

It isn't unlike me to run from all that could tantalize me

For it only brings me feelings that set my heart ablaze

Like your appearance, so stark, so much of enchantment

Tantalizing me, Setting the forests of my wild mind ablaze 

I often forget your lips are a shade of dawn, the gentle pinks

They swirl in the grooves and furrows, of your smiling

Scattered amongst them, my eyes often are stilled

My ears wait to be touched by words that brush by your lips

Such are the utterings of a man, in longing of a chance meeting

Waking to wish for you to appear again, and over

You would deem these to be just a weave of words

Yet they traverse the deepest depths of my cravings

Maybe , Someday

These oranges are barely orange, nor these apples as red

Some too bright, others a darker shade

Even the flowers seem to be so indistinguishable from fake

How has this become us, how has this become our normalcy

What nourished once, now renders illnesses

A child that could think bright as the sun, limps at thoughts

Those old bones that could carry the weight of a horse

Are brittle now, what have we done to ourselves

A nip here, a graft there, malice in codons and codons of genes

As humans we have malformed, twisted what our mother provides

Altered it, Poisoned it, into a curse for ages to come

What have we done, all in the name of profiting from science

When the last blade of grass, shall shed its real green

And the last sunflower shall be a shade of pale, seedless

When all we know as life shall be at its dusk

We will seek intervention, asking what have we done to ourselves

Maybe at that nature shall spring anew, germinate love

Make us see the folly of our profiteering, and help heal

We may have walked away far off, from mother nature's calling

Yet she would always try to bring us home.

the Moth and the flame

My heart rummages amongst the red

hidden between stripes, of black and the colour of her skin

Her gentle arches that tower over her pupils

Wanting a taste of her faint cherry red lips parting in moans

It seemed that winter faded, as she sent out her presence

To greet me, warming the coldness wrapping around me

I have been stilled in such allure and wanton lust

But the distance keeps me from burning, into cinders

There may be many a pair of eyes, that would stare, most mesmerized

Mine seems to run into a frenzy of unchained madness, of ecstasy

I know this may be just her way of a tease, fading come Monday

Yet the tease in its eloquence, draws me like a moth to her flames

renew and repeat

Gentle sunflower, how I admire you

Facing the sun, staring into its brightest light

Illuminating my room, in your chrome yellow tunes

I sit and watch you, as you stare and traverse

When post sunset, the night sky looms

Spinning its black fabric, across my view

You like me, miss the sun in its bright hues

Like you wait to stare into the sun, I wait to stare at you

They say flowers should smell in fragrant floral notes

You like me are a vagrant in such shallow assumptions

You remain you, till your yellows wither and dither

When you do, I shall pick up your seeds and start anew.

Calling the ghosts

What I have found uncanny is the ability of sentences to form images

One spin to the right or the left drafts a poem or a story

Many live in these, many die, many ponder, many ignore

Yet the one that scribbled has been in each of those states

Often the days pass, in solitude, alone but not in lone

Where a scribe could question reality, often to be disconnected

Yet in a paradox of being and not, alive and dead, happy and sad

I have been in all of those phases too, with you and without

The past is like a Ouija board, littered with letters of thoughts

Mine is mined, rigged to explode into my face at any instance of reaching

There is no haunt that seems unknown, even the ghosts have become cohorts

They would haunt me then, by now all I have is their company, and empathy

Resting in the absence of sounds

When I write, I stand on the shoulders of tall giants

They tower miles and miles into the universe

I feel insignificant as a speck of dust floating in the void of space

In the absolute vacuum, no one can hear my pain

If a cry or a plea isn't heard, is it a plea after all

Like a tree that falls in the forest, who knows if it made a sound

Or if it was loud, or even if it set forth a wail

Of searing pain

My words are unheard, even by my own sound reasoning

In the spiral of the want of a premature end

I have often wished for it to arrive sooner, and pleaded aloud too

I in my adept silliness have been so ignorant

That I like the giants have been largely ignored, by sheer will, skill, or both

If then should you chance upon my verses, I hope they provide

Happiness, or the ability to empathise, or even make one feel marginally luckier

This life that I have lived so long, and the bridges I have crossed and burnt

Shall serve as a guide, or even a warning to those that wander about

Dear Dear, 'soon should be away'

Hey Darling, I have often asked myself this question.

I know you may have too, it seems human to as well

In this forced binding of us, we see no reason to be

All I see if either of us struggling to be cordial, such pretence

I often think of us as two rivers flowing, surrounding a mountain

Only to meet into an ocean, where neither of us are you and I

While we have mixed and raged, forged banks and valleys

Yet in the end we are just failing, we fail into the lackluster sea

The sea is inconsiderate, like I and you are often, frequently too

It only swells and recedes, rejecting all the dead we bring into

Expelling to deposit it on the beaches, to rot and odourise

Nothing but foulness, reeking of the apathy that we seem to be in

Sometime soon we must dredge these sands, of our bringing

Bury the smelling of death and decay, put in the work

Then watch each other flow again, into the same sea

This time as distinct rivers, separate but as acquaintances