Things that go Boom

I put my left foot forward

The click brought back memories

I had to pause, stand there motionless

I wondered, if I could swap my left with the right, 

You know these vague thoughts

I realised I am Right handed, so I will have what's left

But that would leave a bad taste

Not that medicines taste better either

Someone out there hoped I would come this way

If nothing, I must honour their thought too

Besides, I could put both my feet together and crouch

At best see myself scatter into the wind a bit

I hear you snarky "Deathwish" remarks

We are soldiers, we have a deathwish regardless

Don't we?

We were dead the moment our lead plunged and reddened

So why is this any different 

It is a score, and someone must keep

Statistics, reporting, et al

Mine may end here, but I am better off

Others land in such, all through life

Crippled, subdued, subjugated, obligated

Unlike them; I have none, I would have been free 

Sooner or later

For only the dead have seen the end

Fuck off Charon!

In war, there is only one side.

Death, apparently!

So, I won't choose a swift death.

Between the mind and the heart, I choose neither.

I always follow time.

And so here is my note, should I be found

silent, cold, or even scattered -

I am of no consequence. I wasn't.

For we are just born into war.

But if I must choose, let it be in extreme pain.

Let me feel my life flow through and out.

Maybe then, just then, I would have a desire.

Or maybe I will just laugh at it ebb too.

For this war has worn me. I have worn it for too long.

And I shall hand over my soul, forlorn now,

And fish at the banks of Styx,

Never wanting to cross.

Dropping her off

The steel bowl was at its 18th bounce

and she could feel her self fade

At the 17th it was for her to remember if they would even care

At the 16th it was for her nail, just got those done yesterday, too bad

At the 15th she saw him, he smiled and winked at her, then was sad

At the 14th she felt his hand loosen its grip on hers

At the 13th she saw the raven pass, turn around and move, as if waving

At the 12th she remembered he had asked her to sew the third button of his purple shirt 

At the 11th he had screamed as if it hurt, for the first time , he wasn't superhuman?

At the 10th she remembered she was always right, but then he was more so

At the 9th she had called out his name, and he heard, but kept rolling her away

At the 8th she heard the grumble of square diamond like glass being powdered

At the 7th she saw him scared,  not for himself, but scared but determined 

At the 6th she heard him say a muffled I love you, like his chest felt heavy

At the 5th she knew he was leaving, she tried to hold him back, but then

At the 4th He called out her name, he wanted to one last time

At the 3rd she worried if this was going to be a mistake she'd carry

At the 2nd she had felt the grass was damp from the morning dew

At the 1st she realised he was right to not look at her when he drove and she fought.

Summer Ahoy

Now who would want to know about cinnabar, not in this part of the world

You can relish in the idea of another two months, for the king to arrive

Then eat a ton, and then get the runs

Aches, pains, follow to spoil good fun

But Oh did they use carbide..

So what if they did, I already smoke bloody hell 

See you there too, fellow fruit devourer

Besides a short term engagement is what it is

Summer life, Summer, life, and so on

and So 

Between the mangroves, there could be storks

pretty too, grabbed by my burly surly hands touting a long range grabber with heavy glass, expensive

Old workhorse, Older than some relationship that summers have seen burn

But that is not for me to ponder 

Pearly white, flies, common, c'mon

the pond is nice, ignore the sun

I will wait by, I got no skin for sinny dipping, nor skinny ones

I enjoy the view, as I enjoy a few

So back to lazy Saturday noons

Beautiful Indian Summer

B E A U T I F U L

yes!

too.

Hi Summer

Come summer, Scum summer

and the sun brings man-goes too

yellowed to rot and flowers to fruit

I enjoy laced sugarcane juice true

Besides, rum bl-e-nds well for a roll

and the birds annoy me, make me rue

perched parched ,singing  at my balcony r-ail-ing

Running

Main taan mahiya tere baajhon

Main taan mahiya tere baajhon

Ghar chhorr ke jungle malle

........ the inspiration......

I have wandered off, far into the wilderness

In my own world, I see nothingness

The void I have carved, it has caved in

I stand stranded, and in a hopeless chance of returning

Yet , I miss the me

I have wanted and become everything there was to be

The bit that was left behind, forsaken beckons

The very bit I feel a sense of shame and fear to meet and reckon

Reasonable Doubt? No time for that

I woke up today, looked at my alarm

Waited for it to die down

I snickered, went back to sleep

Resumed being somewhat dead

Peaceful, too

The bell rang, I refused to answer

Their patience died, I snickered

I rather sleep, than be bothered to

 get the house mopped

Isolation is gentle

Less interaction, peaceful too

I looked at my face, sitting up on the bed

Hours later when my sleep had died

I remembered me, I had food to cook

But I opted for tea and my hunger died

Minimal efforts, peaceful too

My love, or so called , called

She asked me to sweet to her and tell her nice things

I called her by someone else's name

Her love died, I didn't bother to resuscitate it

Why bother, this too will die, today if too

Cocoma

Today I passed by the same road again, I called out Cocoma gently under my breath. I am not someone who feels sadness maybe because I have outgrown feeling sad a long time ago. To be all life ends, new life brings me no difference. Yet I always call out to her everytime I pass by where I buried her. Opposite Saket, the ground is now a garden. I will visit it this weekend if I can. Somewhere beneath that surface is a pile of bones of my Cocoma and a picture of me that I left with her body like I was burying an Egyptian royal queen. She was too.  My darling princess. 

My Cocoma. 

I am sure your soul may have been born as another dog. Someone is either going to be suicidal about you or madly in love with you. There can only be two ways, you were my daughter after all.

I love you girl.

14 years, 2 months, 6 days since 11:55 AM on 18th November 2011.

Choonaa-v

Poochoon to jazbaat bataa dete hai
koi kamal koi haath bataa dete hai
Desh ka kya hi hoga... halaat bataa dete hai

mai poochun jo milaavat kar ke becha uska kya,
uska mausa vidhaayak bataa dete hai

jo poochun insaaf aur kuch bhool ki maafi na mile,
par balatkariyon ko riha kar mujhe meri aukaat bataa dete hai

mere bhai jo dhoop mein pis kar thand mein jamm kar marte hai,
unse salaam bulvaakar ye saara paisa samet lete hai

Aaj to chunaav tha, meri ungli par nishaan,
meri muskaan mera bharosa bataa dete hai

par chunaav to aaj sirf ek parivarik khel ban gaya hai,
Bant raha tha choona phir, jo ye mantri humko lagaa jaate hai

mai bhi matdaan kar aaya hoon,
thoda choona mai bhi lagvaakar aaya

Ab jab kursi waalon ki ladai hogi, tab ye yaad rakhna,
Ye gaddar mere desh ki sahensheelta ka mazaak bataa dete hai

Jab

वैतरणी तट

रुक जाना ही पड़े

आधा तो ना जायेगा पार

तू आधा ले आना जब

तू आयेगी मेरे बाद

But Poetry? Shut Up now

I may have run out of expressing 

or so my mind believes, maybe no one needs to hear it, read

But my poems were not for them to either

It was me, wishing for a storm in the calm and vice versa

A want of paradoxes, in the mundane

Life, and it has passed

Transmuted to nothingness, and nothings

Sweet neither, bitter nor

Then what should I write for

The days pass without furore 

I have rested my thoughts in the inescapable wince of living

I need not write, in musings or ponderings

This life and I fought, hard and lost

I didn't, maybe it did

But, we don't speak of it to the other

Here under the darkness of night, sleep arrives whenever 

Wake, too gets the same preferential paths

Between these, I work, play, life goes on

I do not seek to engage,

Nor, I do not wish to know why