Silver.

The first time I recognized silver

was in a star, on my report card.

It wasn’t gold, for exceptionally good;

it wasn’t bronze, needing a lot of push;

it was an acceptable silver,

for those who got by.

 

It took some sweat to see

its tinge between the black and the white.

It crept up, eventually. And always

kept the poise: stripping yellow off its bright,

Adding glitters to the darkest blue.

 

The universe made more sense, now

that the extremes were all sucked dry.

It kept me looking for further more;

I got through, I got by.

 

The cloud stood bare, the lining exposed.

I could move up and ahead,

I was all set…

 

Until

 

I drew with silver

and out came red.

12

तीन महीने पहले
खिड़की के नजारें अलग थे

एक समय चिड़ियों को देख
मैं तुम्हे खयाली कहानियाँ सुनाया करती थी

चिड़ियों के साथ मिजाज़ का आना जाना अब भी है
पर अब,
तुम्हारा पता बदल गया है ।

Telescopic Impasse

11102882_806549989394929_6020788098817914144_n
Walk soft with slower rides.
They’re the treads.
Of my messy insides.

The fucking winds.

Such unrelenting harshness
On my pretty face.
But these eyes
Won’t drop their gaze.
They search his lines and rings.
His face.
Frozen on clean sheets.
Memories of unsaid things.

Rain used to be fun.
Now annoying?
I am unsure.

The caustic slow burning would endure.

For I am the favorite friend.
He’s true.
Clay for playtime madness?
Take my heart.
Till your fondness
Allows for all that.

But I’m his and promised, how!
No other shall taste the feel
Of his lovely warmth now.

I stand and observe.
Absorbed intimacy and affections.
The ancient horrid game
Of mirrors, tricky reflections.

This mind’s rationale
Heart’s twisted bent.
Two languages –
Same damn content.

The incomprehensible affair
Of wrong translations
Dry humor to our tragic despair.

Is this enough
What’s that?
Good and nice.
Easy.
Let’s put stamp on it
But which one?
Uncertainty is the bitch, hon.

His pain would bleed my heart out
Transfusions – no match they say.
I hate bad investments.
People are the worst kind anyway.

I like the rain.
I could try keep falling.
Till pneumonia catches me first.

Relevance of sympathies are subjected
To efficacy at receptor’s risk.
Dead eyes, broken ears won’t do shit.
The pain is yours.
Transfers can’t be fixed.
Got the tech for that?

No. It doesn’t fucking exist.

Our Musings on Us

0028

You know it well, when I sigh.
And drop hints of my attention.
The disguised doubts of the why.

Maybe you prefer me as the hot one.
Sliding up your skin.
So we can believe it’s for the long run.

But how you block the noise
Inside my head, those looks.
Your slight shivers at the surface of my voice.

I would lie beside
While you search your screen.
My curves getting cold in imposed ignorance.

But I wonder sometimes, could I burn.
My intestines – if that’s what it took?
Desperate purge, of this sordid hunger.
I would give up the chase.
And let the smoke waft away at my face
My dark pungent stench, for you.
To dream sometimes, maybe remember too.

A Heady Commotion

uncertainty-of-life

No reason for anguish no reason for pain,

Trying to find some lucidity but it all seems in vain.

Looking at the faces with every emotion feigned,

Rather than unveiling the masks, I prefer to take the blame.

 

Feelings running short of being expressed,

Decipher life so much that you end up possessed.

Fears remain unanswered and concerns remain unaddressed,

But no stone is left unturned to ensure that everyone is impressed.

 

No place to go, no acquaintances to find.

If only I could have caged the mind.

Tired of being nice, tired of being kind,

Disgusted of always being put on the grind.

 

Neither that hurt to turn rebellious,

Nor that calm to ignore it as frivolous.

Comprehending people shall always remain tedious,

Two-faced sycophants with souls so hideous.

 

People say that each of us is here to serve a purpose.

What I see is the ringmaster running a circus.

Even if you are caged you are supposed to entertain,

Without the assurance of anything to gain.

Dancing to the tunes of a future so uncertain,

Makes you wonder why you treat your emotions with such disdain.

Holes and Analogies

Holes and Analogies

Would you like me as a sea?

Terrific on the outside
But deadly inside deep.
So when you come in, seeking treasures
Death would find you first.
Sweet poison, seeping out of me.

Or should I be like a tree instead?

Bearing lovely fruits of your desire.
So when you climb up ahead
Unburdening me of my juices
I would be the overdose, the high
The lucid whispers in your head.

Perhaps a film, of your taste.

Of sunken minds and heartbreaking lines.
Would your eyes be raised
to the screen of my skin then?
Carrying projections of your dreams
Disappearing words in sickening haste.

I need to tie my ends, flying loose.

Floating men with hearts hanging out.
Empty chests, lost lovers, placid hues.
Half eaten. Rotten. Of stories
Promises, lies and pending dues.

But you’re not the end of things.
And I am not a tree.
I’d drift off with my drooping limbs
As you pass out in your Bombay lanes
With younger women and heavier drinks.

So, I have read and written of you some
Of seas and films and empty drums.
Some nights were spared and left to bleed
Some stars too, and moons and few splendid suns.

For all the love and harm undone
I ask, to be my book, this once.
For you’re the book I’d like to read
In bed tonight,
And for the rest of my lonely nights to come.

Because I Love Carousels.

7

You told me your secrets, would you like to know mine?
It’s always so fast, few words and fewer lines.

Let’s be friends, don’t you like the carousel?
Whirlwind craziness and you love it, I can tell.

But oh we could fall, with bodies so young.
One slip and have the wind knocked right out of my lungs.

What happened my love? This wasn’t your design.
Did you lose your balance from that blinding shine?

Spit out the blood. Pause. Brush off. Realign.
Broke some legs, that back and my mind.

Recollect, re think, and yes re-design
Them scars, do they bleed?

But oh very soon, you’ll be just fine.