Friday, March 17, 2017

His big brown eyes glass on glass
He glimpsed her waving from afar
A walk a skip across the the park
Settled on a seat of stone
She sparkled eyes then her genuine smile
Disarming honesty warmed his heart
A pure, naive, easy sync
But it was the first and the last sync
Toxic emotion of her folk
Clouded her eyes of sparkle
Stripped their sync of ease
Snatched their time of love
Yet they held on, hoping against hope
In memory of the first rendezvous
Though that moment was lost forever
Though the poison had darkened her spirit
He didn't recognise her as the same
Each battle at her den sunk her further
Yet he held on, hoping against hope
In memory of their first rendezvous.

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Envious of the stars that are gone
And yet their light burns through
They hold no burden of life
In the glory of death they shine

It's not the misery of things
Nor of questionable ways
The pain of unquenchable thirst
The ache of unending hunger
Frozen paralysis of compulsion
Of the hustle of life and bustle of folk
Smile and smile and accept in grace
Till the pain is comfortable.
Till the ache is home.

Friday, January 22, 2016

Illusory

The twitch of a finger, the gleam of an eye
The shadows that threaten to materialize
A rumble of fear that swallows all thought
The pulse just short of bursting forth.

The conviction that shakes three worlds of lore
That conviction is seeming in most, true only in two folk
One who has seen all there is to be seen
One who sees only that which he wants to see
The latter a madman, the former a hermit.

The madman I see right before me
I see through his eyes, I see in his mind
The conviction of the offering
The conviction that god thrilled at death

That god if cared of your thoughts on him
That which struck down the disagreeing
That god indeed fragile is it not?
Imagined traits, smeared on the pure.

Heavens with buxom angels and hells of fire.
What if heavens had fire and hells had angels?
Is it not that fire purifies and angels corrupt?
When imagination runs wild the sun is the moon
Being alive would be a curse and death a relieving boon

He paused to allow a bustling crowd
Soothened his rapid heart, whispering false solace
He turned his fear to anger at the folk
Mindless anger of tales that had been told
Mindless anger that helped him stay bold
Finger edgy, a quick prayer, the click of a button
Excruciating pain, a scream that stopped before it escaped
He was torn from himself, torn from what he had known
He was left with anger, seething anger
No angels, no heaven, no beauty shall ever be seen
Consumed in anger and alas
The reason for his anger, he would now never know.


Thursday, June 4, 2015

Cold stone walls hug the aged temple door
Granular cruelty grinds against the soles
An unheeded step could bruise the toughest toes
The curling of them on the hint of dampness unknown

The sharpness of camphor always hangs low
Admixed with basil and jasmine and curious dung
Chanting relentless, syllables unheard
The rituals seem foreign, the decked idol forbidding
The dab of cold sandal feels absurd

Red rice clustered along palmar crease 
Ignorant of when to toss it, the hows, whys and whats,
Toss it right, toss it with reverence
Too many rules, not a moment of ease.

To hell with all the mind boggling, mindless motions
The glare of the priest at an unintended movement
The intimidation of complexity coaxes my feet to a corner
Lotus down, relieved at the distance from the altar

A breath eases out, I close my eyes in solemn
Chanting flows in, numbing the chimp within
The air is dense, the odor pleasantly heady,
The tranquilizing chime of bells quietens all chatter

The moments so pass, it matters not in number
The hand on my shoulder breaks my non-slumber
This is how it feels to smile without reason
A reason, however, to retrace steps that treaded prior in reluctance
So the stone walls beckon again but now not to the altar
The stone walls that contain that which cannot be pinned
The corner is now my corner, if not that, then some other
I step out without flowers, without sandal, neither red nor rice
I step out only with a skip, a full heart and a ready smile



Friday, March 20, 2015

Rain shards slap down ruthlessly at will
Concealing the tears that flow down skin bare
Lightening may strike down sudden upon my head
But the pain would be a caress in compare

Stuck in the whirlwind of words, listless and lost
The bustle of the world surely pales in time
We distract ourselves so desperately so
From the questions that we really need to know
If we sat and observed, in truth, you'd see
We've nothing to show for, nothing but an emotional sea

Don't be mistaken, the tears aren't just sad
Don't be naive, the pain isn't just my own
There is but one difference, you and me
I've thought and pondered and sulked a while
Whilst you rot blissful in the castle of your own

Don't you see you've accomplished zilch?
Look again, your trophies are but rust
Oh but then, there were just phantoms on withering wood
Mere shiny cups and plates, if you must

Delusions and hallucinations decorate your world
Fables and misconceptions entertain you so
Even if you rouse, your time has passed
The waves have rolled, your breath has halt.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Peep through the crack, she could see
Him walking through the white picket fence
She dreaded the wooden knock that would wake her babe
She longed for it all the same

It surprised her, the pang she felt
The missed beat, never missed no matter the years
The turmoil she felt tormented her
She loved and hated him all the same

She opened the door, the familiar eyes
The brown shiny eyes perfectly framed by glasses
He smiled, it never really touches the hazel
But a smile is a smile all the same

She had to leave, she always knew
But the sight of him always softened her will
She gazed at her sweet breathing softly in the crib
Trying to draw strength, in vain
She had to leave, but needed to stay all the same

Picked her babe and purse on the mantle
She strode out the fence, as he showered
She thought no thoughts, no thoughts no feelings
Key in ignition, on impulse she was relying
Her babe nuzzled softly against her thin frame
Tears welled, but she smiled all the same

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

The journey

If you want something without being feverish about it, there is a very good chance you will get it. Even if you don't, you will be okay. If you do, you will accept it with grace.
When you want something and are feverish about your desire, acquiring it will bring you relief, not happiness. And though you may not notice it, the relief is actually that of getting rid of the sickly feverish desire, rather than because of getting what you wanted. It is very important to make sure that the journey toward you goal is pleasant and not studded with memories of obsessiveness. Because more often than not, there is disillusionment after you get what you think you wanted and all that you are left with is memories of your journey.
Our desires give much for us to live for, they give life meaning and hope and sometimes even depth. But in truth, we don't really know what we want. We don't really know what is good for us. We do not stress on the importance of the journey enough. What we experience is far more valuable than our goals.