Noodle Poetry and Prose

Perfume

2012-01-05T14:36:00.000-08:00

Like every woman in history of time
and I talk of wars and peace alike

I wore the perfume
subtly asking my love to move closer
and get a drift of my feelings
for then my love you would know
I stand to lose my sanity for you
and I turn into ice in your absence

I wore the perfume
so that you would face my direction
seeing how I have been looking in yours
I smile because the pain in unbearable
and I am fumbling for your hands
to take in mine till wrinkles come

I wore the perfume
because I can't sing my feelings
any other way and you have no time
I won't live very long either with this shriveled heart
for you to do the guesswork and discover me
so I am fragrant out loud

I wore the perfume
but I guess it was not strong enough
for you missed the point
I see you are moving close to being away from me
They said he'll come back for you, your true love
I said "Wait I will but life will not"

I have a garden to grow

2011-12-01T11:42:00.001-08:00

We are our heaven and hell
and the flower shop in between
There ought to be an ocean there
but I prefer flowers separate us
not an infinite bowl of liquid
floating cheerlessly mid air.

No ocean , No swim
We move freely, heaven to hell
guided by ungodly whim
The funny thing about flowers
is that they need to be bought
arranged and stacked till they brim

You sneeze at flowers
the pollen make you sour
You did rather not move
than have them lick you toe
I wait in every dimension
heaven and hell, wanting more

In heaven, the hell dances
In hell, the flowers are no more
The flowers pave the way
You never come through soon
neither are you late for me
to realize, I have a garden to grow.

I want love.

2011-11-13T09:32:00.001-08:00

I want love
and make it my business.

I want to be excited
when I am diving down
and that is love.

I want to grounded
when I am talk of the town
and that is love.

I want inspiration
when money is all to be found
and that is love.

I want love
and who else but you
is to be the one, to know
that I want love.Now.

Wherever spring is

2011-06-23T07:10:00.000-07:00

I must go wherever spring is
However illusive the chase may be
There is very less taking root everywhere
Mostly blossoms and weeds,very temporary affair
Every morning has a fancy hue
yesterday it was violets, today it is you
I like to see the change from my windows
Different cities but the same colorful limbo
If honest you did let me be, I like not spring
But to be the constant in the midst of change
To feel free to feel timeless in matter of years
when most things are dying every new day
Very cruel are the ways of this heart
It weeps for everything born
relishes the death of every flower
I must go wherever the spring is
to watch life's agony every hour.

You are beautiful.

2011-06-06T07:24:00.000-07:00

What could you mean when you said I was beautiful?

was it that I made you smile
was it an unconscious urge to be nice
or did you mean I looked better than yesterday
could it be that you understood what’s beautiful inside of me
it could have been good weather that found reflection on my face
or did you find out i was the one who put flowers on your desk
is it just about the two firm curves my body supports
I must not get my hopes high, if it is about my new fragrance
or may be you want me to bribe you with a similar phrase.

What could you mean really? Beauty is very frail
I could not put my finger on it, even if I had thousands
I had once wanted to say a similar thing to a man with an ox
they were paired together ploughing the fields sweating hard in sun
I found the fields beautiful and an expression of his creation
I thought a man to be beautiful if he made something so well
But when the sun set and he rode home with his ox
I saw him curse the woman in his house, I was shattered
What I found beautiful vanished without a trail.

Am I beautiful to you because you feel beautiful today
just like when you have a song in your heart, nothing stands in your way
I think you had a good day at work and your to do list is slim
It could as well be so because the weekend is around the corner
There will be time to savor every thing you have to otherwise rush through
You could read to your kids today, you could play a game of scrabble
You will even find time to walk the furry creature of a dog you got
Is it just because you are excited you will find time to hold me all night
and there will be time for love and knitting beautiful tales.

What do you find beautiful? I have never been certain
I know you think ‘The Beatles’ make beautiful music
you think I know you find women in heels beautiful
I know you heart every sign of spring, be it humming bees, be it the wind
Not so long ago I found out you plan a beautiful long ride every night
you think I know it from start, you love the sight of ring on my blessed finger
Today you said you find me beautiful but haven’t I been like this forever
I know somethings better and I have learned many more but for most part
I can separate the grains from the hay and I know how to love from the heart.

I can not imagine what you think is beautiful but I know for myself real beauty
I have met her before several times several impressions
she came often to my bedside, telling stories of generous men and women
and there was a he too, who taught me how to ride beast of a bicycle.
Now that I am grown up, he brings down his horses for me.
There was a she, almost a child who said I must fly free of my past
and a he who thought I must have all my dreams, I must not worry so fast
Frankly dear, There is a beautiful me too but it is so not just today
Beauty does not have to try to be beautiful or real, fragrant or full
Beauty is our everyday.

बावरा मन

2011-04-02T08:20:00.000-07:00

काहे भीगे रे मन उसकी बारीश में
जो दे ना तुझे कोई ठंढक
काहे नाचे रे मन उसकी चाहत में
जो फेरे ना नज़र तेरी ओर
आँखें मूंद और आगे बढ़
ध्यान ना दे इस पागल मन पे
ये तो यूँही करे बेशर्म शोर

यह जो राह जाए तेरे सामने
तेरे अपने सपनों की ओर
बढ़ आगे, शोर को दे मरोड़
अपनी उमंग को दे धार
तेरी जो बदलाव की है चाहत
उसे ना खाने दे मात
मन तो बहकेगा हीं
उसकी तो आदत है बीमार

हर दिन जो तुझे मिले प्रीत
ऐसी नहीं दुनिया की रीत
यहाँ तो प्यार बिके हर द्वार
चाहे तो तुझे भी दे दे
कोई उधार एक दिन
पर एक दिन की किसे फ़िक्र
तुझे तो दुनिया बदलने की है अकड़
जा अपनी अकड़ को पुचकार
कर कुछ ऐसा की हर जीवन को
हर आने वाले दिन आराम हो
तेरी धुन हो सफल
तेरी कारनमें तेरा ईनाम हों
जीवन का संगीत रहे तेरा मीत
एक बावरे मन की यही है जीत

Your Boolean affection

2011-04-02T05:11:00.000-07:00

No, Not you

The moon is better

There is rhythm in his decay

Every night has a missing arc

It just so happens

That I know till when his madness lasts

He always maintains his distance

But this is how he has been from start

Like a promise he shows up every night

I can always guess when he will disappear

He does such mischief once every fortnight

But here, you are no moon

Not even a shadow of his pleasing gaze

He sends across an universe beaming at my face

There is a vortex of randomness you conjure

Just to throw me into while you lure another desire

And here, I am making waves

Of your Boolean affection till Breathing is free

May be one day, I’ll find a pattern

Some kind of lunar calender to live by

It will sad though if I choke up on this love

There will be no regrets though

Love you would know, I did try.

[This marks my insignificant 100]

Wish you were here

2011-03-23T13:30:00.000-07:00

I could write you a letter everyday,Just to say
How many times I glanced over the watch
How many times I stared at the open doorway
But even a poem I can not complete
The longing has left my thinking thus obsolete
wish you were here
and my words would curl up into poetry
The shards of pain morphed into melody
Forget the rose
Till I don't see you my days are morbid prose.

अरे ओ वसंत

2011-03-17T02:58:00.000-07:00

अरे ओ वसंत
तेरे उलझे नयन मेरे चितवन से
राग मोह सब सिमट गये
मेरी सृष्टि भर गयी तेरे रंग से

अरे ओ वसंत
मुझे ले चल अपने हीं संग से
तू आने में इतनी देर लगाए
मोहे चैन नही तेरी चिंतन से

अरे ओ वसंत
गाये तू कैसे पगले मन से
तुझे मुझसे प्रेम नही तो
छिने क्यूँ मेरी चुनर तन से

अरे ओ वसंत
वो तेरे साथ जो बहे तन के
उस पवन से कह दे
तुलना ना करे वो मेरे मन से

अरे ओ वसंत
मैं तो विरहन कब से
उस से क्यूँ तू मोह लगाए`
जो बात करे हर मौसम से

अरे ओ वसंत
तू जो इधर उधर फिरे ठन के
तुझे आह लगे मेरी कसम से
जो तू आए ना मेरे रस्ते

अरे ओ वसंत
तू कैसा निर्मोही कैसा नौटंकी
देख ली तेरी लीला
अब तो दे दे चाबी मेरे मन की

अरे ओ वसंत
तू कहे क्यूँ ना सीधी बात
मैं कब तक देखूं
देखूं जी तेरी राह, हर रात

अरे ओ वसंत
मैं तो आस तेरी देखत हारी
अब तू फिर वापस आया
फिर लहके बैरी तन ये

अरे ओ वसंत
तू कैसा सरफिरा मुसाफिर
ना साथ ले के जाए
ना पीछे छोड़े जाए

अरे ओ वसंत
कभी तो मेरी बात मान ले
तेरी वीरहन हूँ
मुझे हर मौसम थोड़ा आराम दे

अरे ओ वसंत
तेरी लगन में बहकून चहकति रहूँ मैं
थोड़ी फ़ुर्सत हो तो
इधर भी ध्यान दे

अरे ओ वसंत
अब तो करूँ ना कोई शिकायत मैं
जब तू आए तभी जागूं
तेरी नींद के पीछे भागूं मैं

अरे ओ वसंत
तू तो सब जानता है
अब तो बीसों बर्स गुज़रे
मेरे प्रेम का किस्सा तो जग जानता है

Learn to Love

2011-03-10T07:58:00.001-08:00

Learn to pinch me when I feel smug
Learn to shield me from every thug
There is an eccentric in me
You better figure out my sanity plug

Learn to hold me when I am on run
Learn to scold me when I have no fun
Chances are that I'll get away
So We rather live open under sun

Ignore me when I hide my love
Ignore me when I ask for a cub
Quite likely I had a concussion
But it is open to discussion

Ignore me when I call for a kill
I am merely testing your will
Ignore me when I jump in air
It just adds to my crazy flair

May be we needn't learn so much
Ignoring might not be all that fun
Remember I am thirteen at heart
Whenever we are growing apart
Just show up, we can restart.

A woman's mind

2011-03-08T09:21:00.000-08:00

A: What's a woman's mind like?
N: Just like an alley in Paris. The corner you stand in decides what it's like.

You are a nut

2011-03-08T09:20:00.001-08:00

A: You are a nut
N: Yeah, I am nutritious.

The marooned child

2011-03-07T09:33:00.000-08:00

Two crisp blue eyes
each hand held by the other
some warmth of anxious blood
running under his sweater
He wasn't alone
Till sometime back
A very gentle voice
with a hand around his shoulders
had lead him till the boulders
Like a magic act
the kind he did not believe in
The voice turned into smoke
The gentle touch froze
He was one brave heart
but just one, mind you
Don't forget that part
A blank chill rose
The sea roared in unison
Like a bunch of whales
hit by a rock of basalt
His crisp blue eyes
were now lake of salt

Why did they leave Erich?
Mom and puppo
He crosses his arms
around his chest, seizing
a few crazy breathes
Even the dreary sea seemed kind
kind of curious as well
It stood by his side
unwavering and swell
A bit of father's instinct, sea has
Though its mostly a mother
with a fertile womb
face rinsed with lather

I just looked down from the sky
Like every other twinkling star
Though, true, I could not whisper
You are marooned, Erich!
I wish I could hold that boy
closer to my bosom than my breathe
I know his pain as mine
I have been marooned many a time.

Two and half long days

2011-03-05T21:38:00.000-08:00

The world is just the same
There are protests
albeit in a different half of Globe
New books hit the stand
retelling the same different story
and yes! a cow was slaughtered
to add flesh to a blonde's bones

A new understanding has been signed
by a Sudanese and an ex CIA spy
A few more whales found graves
not in the deep seas
but in the ointment that was made
and voila! there is now
another elementary particle to remember

The means and averages on this earth
are still mean and quite average
Just because not a word
lasted its journey
between our minds
No index has gone awry
An albatross crossed another sea
but his success is unrecorded routine

In two and half long days
Only my solitude went sour
Unkempt and Unpracticed
The crown I wore on my proud head
screams in agony all wronged notes
Just 60 hours
come heal me
My soul needs repair.

The unreasonable love

2011-03-03T06:48:00.001-08:00

A clue in hitchhiker's guide to galaxy
leading to the city of God
in a land of thousand splendid suns
finding the catcher in the rye.

The practical Love

2011-03-03T05:29:00.000-08:00

At peace with itself
Never peeping down the edge
The fringes all smooth
Nothing more, Nothing less
Shelved egos
rationed lip locks
Timed appearances
Even more timed exits

No wars to fight
No everyday battlefield
All worth the fight, Won
stuff worth the loss, left
Custom chaos
Jarring liveliness
settled at the bottom
All suspense suspended

Nights of careful planning
fears never shared
Diabetic sweetness
no shaking the one from sleep
Letting each be in a zone
of comfort and no churn
makings of love
Which no longer burns.

Checklist to survive nuclear winter

2011-02-09T09:46:00.000-08:00

A pack of socks
my cashmere scarf
Sherlock Holmes overcoat
yellow shoes to go with
the otherwise serious attire

1 room of oxygen
10 kegs of Beer
100 bottles of whiskey
1000 bags of chips
to add salt to misery

A few thousand books
many matchboxes
tons of logs of wood
to make it warm
as in winter you should

A hug from you
pillows ten
dozen blocks of chocolate
just in case we give
kiss a miss
which won’t be so often

What else silly?
What else you need to survive
Oodles of Beauty
Pints of intoxication
A little warmth
One buoyant affection.

Recipe for a dull day

2011-01-31T07:11:00.000-08:00

Bread butter for breakfast
adamant sun for company
Men with mustache in the bus
ruminating women to greet
Office access card issues
No coffee for lunch
Last premium face tissue exhausted
About to be married colleagues
Project management meetings
No chilly for supper
More bills than income
Unsung dinner
Dry lips.

Come run away with me

2011-01-27T22:45:00.000-08:00

Don't like waiting for life to begin
Don't remember how long it has been
Don't care why the earth spins
Don't mind if the world comes to an end
Don't want doors to open and close

Come run away with me.

Let's breed an adventure out of routine
Let's blow away the seconds into a lifetime
Let's make the world merry go around
Let's give world a reason to stay
Let's make a home with no boundries

Just run away with me.

Fill some fuel in the tanks
sell your belognings for freedom
Carry nothing not even memories
Get some soul and the sardines
Let's make hell of a lifetime.

As far as I can tell

2011-01-27T21:47:00.000-08:00

Frankly let me tell you dear
It is easy to sing about what you fear
It is even easier to imagine ways to heaven
and the pains of the purgatory
things you have never gone any near
Easier to coerce the mind
to dream about love and its sublimity
But what is tough is to 'Be'
in heaven and in hell
and mostly in love as far as i can tell.

O Olivia

2011-01-05T05:26:00.001-08:00

O Olivia, Thou spelleth magic by thy name
under the envious skies, squats every sulking dame
never matching thy silken caress, thy beauty's flame
The heavens built dams to hold the rush of molten hearts
and seas to contain the wasted affection longing to be tame'd
There is only one hell stacked from bottom to brim
of all dames with no claim to your perfect trim
and of the men who never felt your woven image that swims.

O Monalisa!

2010-12-15T08:27:00.001-08:00

O Monalisa! would you part your lips?
plastered since dawn of an eternity
renaissance they called it, what a pity
break out of your jealous painter's prison
He buried your expressions beneath
layers of paint, an even bitter poison
is your smile, suffering lack of breath
Just shout the shout buried beneath
Let your truth shine through the oil
How unjust is this illustration
scars these brush strokes have made
painting you in a light you have never known
Stop being the oval countenance in a square frame
confused conveniently with a sphere of imagination
or at times treated like a pentagon of glorious secrets
So blurred has been your existence
often confused with feminine magnificence

Do part your lips, O Monalisa!
Your are a painted lie or a real misery, Monalisa!
But Don't pretend to be a mystery, Monalisa.

Enchanted land

2010-12-11T08:01:00.000-08:00

There we were at the precipice
a tender kiss could bridge
There were doubts on one side
and another held promise of phoenix
Both parted by mere hint of an abyss
This enchanted land of us
was all full of illusions
illustrated in a green mist
Our worst fears lurking around
dressed in cloaks flying swift
All we needed to belive in,was the glow
in another's eyes and breathe in,a little slow
A few bated breathes and one turned away
Since then the spell has been cast
This land is enchanted
No one's love, here does last.

The Guy I did not pick from the bar

2010-11-26T20:43:00.000-08:00

In the dim corner
with his attention left ajar
Like the restroom door
hurriedly closed from far
He sat with his heart open
arteries, valves and veins
All crawling on different plains

He had brown eyes and
a quill dipped in scarlet ink
He might have pined and penned
A thousand letters to his love
who threw him down the sink
but I guess he preferred to care
dig into an already dead affair

So I walked up to him
Borrowed his scarlet ink
Wrote some letters of my will
generously on a parchment pink
He stared scarcely at me
while I longed for his wink
When the letters were done
an envelope was summoned
Folded and licked for posterity
I left it in his pockets to read
and if it could bear to, think.

When the whiskey was over
and I was well out of the bar
He still could not find humor
in any drink he had ordered so far
Whiskey left him tipsy
but did no good to cure him of
his treacherous gypsy
when the last call came
his hands reached his pockets
to feel for his wallet still warm
He found rustle of paper
folded neatly and licked for posterity
When he got over the folds
adjusted his sight for the wisdom
The letter read:

"While you sit here and lament
I'll be in pain too
for you just missed
a go at love
for Whiskey curiously blue"

204, Penthouse.

The Guy I picked up in the bar

2010-11-26T09:50:00.001-08:00

He was blond
with an incurable scar
He had everything but one ear
another he lost at the bar
So when i walked up to him
and mentioned I had a pink car
He half listened
Half he foraged for
a pink gem in an olive jar
He noticed olives were not so pink
Neither were there any gems in the jar
He turned to me and said
Baby, Where is the car?
I showed him the keys
We drove to some place far.

Half is the wholesome full

2010-11-26T08:42:00.001-08:00

Fool is the man who wants it full
The sphere to it, has no wonder
It does tear imagination asunder
When You hold a half in your hand
to another moon your eyes land
There is no end to dimensions
the other halves can bear
A bitten apple
may be a tender pear
A glass with round bottom
may be wine, may be beer

Aspire for the wholesome full
one half to be seen
another a sketch in lull
Aspire the better halves
be left to wonder
While you hold
just one piece of mystery
The riddle still lingers
Every new thought
conjures another universe
parallel and perpendicular
to the old boring history

The half is the wholesome full
One part tangible
One part black magic
Just the measures
You need to linger longer
in an intoxicating lull.

The miserable man of ideas

2010-10-27T05:58:00.000-07:00

His cottons were pressed stiff as steel
There was no warning about his will
Tucked under his bold black trousers
His legs felt the athlete's thrill
There were people about him
but ignoring them was his daily drill

He was stead fast in his ways
There was no attention paid to signs
in his track coming from naysayers
He did not wait, he did not hold
His soul was already sold
to the woman with egg head
Lady idea, her nameplate said.

He went everyday to her nest
She laid heavy burdens
on his swelling zealous chest
He would bear it with pride
like a symbolic feather crest
He suffered and He sweat
Since the river of wisdom
only flows to the earnest.

He was miserable
high on platonic unrest
Just a piece of the lady idea
His agony would fly west
He is going blue but
This not a day's battle
Every man may loose his hope
but he will still be on his saddle.

Hippies in Cubicles

2010-10-25T06:35:00.000-07:00

No crack, no marry me Juana
No slack, no smoked salmon
All you got is forms to fill
All you got is time to kill
Once Hippie, now has no hope
only roasted beans pass as dope.

The Hippie was a rock star
He wore Hawaiian pants
carried a bass guitar
He sang classic rants
lying bare on beaches
living a drugged dream
He saw bluish mermaids
whipped in pinkish cream.

But there was this glitch
His clothes needed a stitch
and stitch needed some dough
If dough had to come
Merry may had to go
How bad it could be!
Thought the hippie
who never had to fill
one crappy excel sheet
for paying the bill.

So the hippie took a job
He had nothing to do
just try and be a snob
and shit in the cube
Soon Weeks went by
with no fucking clue
Instead of stitches
His mind was glued
Merry said bye bye
packed her bags and flew

He could not have guessed
the reasons right
until he had a dream
while whipping some cream
He had this situation
A crab better suited
his job description
He was just a hippie
with need for some dough
So he let down his hair
and banged his guitar
till someone took notice
and lent him his due fame
of being a rock star

So now hippie is again a rock star
with no fucking job to do
He is now into pots and smoking pink glue.

Some stats for MS admissions

2010-10-18T23:00:00.000-07:00

I have a Disease

2010-10-13T03:58:00.000-07:00

I have a disease,
to say it, exactly as it is.

Art of Giving unwanted Presentation

2010-10-07T23:16:00.000-07:00

Strife

2010-10-06T07:25:00.001-07:00

You have moved past me
At the cost of me
On the corpse of me
With legs of strength
Nourished with my grace
My magnanimity with a face
You have been in contempt
Superior in your own complex
Which again was a gift
Of my creation at apex

Million times, You have spit
Giving your old vanity new facelift
At my tenderness of spirit
Claiming yet another win
Riled I was, Riled I have been
The equations will have to change
You shall be at my mercy
I'll take your heart on journey of pain
You shall burn
Till your vanity goes in vain
And you see the real relation
Between us is not slave serves master
We both hold the world in our hand
And just as I pull mine
No one's ground shall stand

Rain

2010-10-06T06:12:00.000-07:00

The sun shut his shop
The street vendor cloud
Started calling out aloud
Bartering with the earth
Water in exchange for Birth
Of new life, and also
End of the lovelorn strife
The earth can't resist
To be poured over
And being dressed in mist
She must call cloud back
Let him know
She'll cut him some slack
For being seasonal
As life must grow back
Just when the lightning strikes
Another season will be on
The rain will drench the earth
In bitter joy of frivolous love.

The wind also goes for sale
In this season, She has
a chance to become a gale
So she swirls in a loop
Gathers all the dust
For matter, we have must
Leaving a polythene trail
Some dried leaves
pounds of dust
Leaving all birds feel frail
Her mighty twists
Plucking little birdies tail
She will carry them as far
as her emptiness echoes
And then she will fail
She will collapse under
Consoled by pouring rain

Dear wind and earth
Save your emotional outburst
You have just been sold
The biggest dream in all of universe
One of love, another of importance
Their indulgence wont last
Like after this pouring rain
Sun shall break his fast.

Narcissist-Atheist

2010-09-22T12:19:00.000-07:00

X: Why are you here?
Y: Why! What happened?

X: You don't believe in the gods?
Y: but I like temples

X: so what do you think of when you bow down to an idol or offer a prayer?
Y: I merely talk to myself.

X: How does that work?
Y: The difference is I listen.

The conversations

2010-09-22T11:58:00.000-07:00

She_1: Do you always have these conversations?
She_2:Which conversations?

She_1: The ones in your head.
She_2: How do you know?

She_1: because we are talking there, In your head.

Maud is gone, Yeats

2010-09-12T07:14:00.000-07:00

These days, I carry a collection of poems by W. B. Yeats at all times with me. I flip a random page and read as slowly as I can. There was a woman in Yeats life, Maud Gonne. Maud rejected Yeats marriage proposals several times. Replying to Yeats's complaints at rejections by her, Maud is reported to have said: 'You are making beautiful poetry out of what you call your unhappiness and you are happy in that'. Its really easy to see Maud in Yeats poems.
This one is for you Yeats:

Maud is gone, Yeats
This is no more your time
This today is not your day
But you are labelled in history
As a hopeless romantic
Your Maud is gone, Yeats
In all her decaying glory
She must rest weary
In a fine burial field
I hope she still gets you
And better of your pen
Her longing must yield
I hope she still inspires
Pain and Desire
I hope to find papers
In seven corners of your grave
Where you must rave
About not dying by her side
In life, you lay wide apart
I hope to find you pining, Yeats
With the ink of her love
On your pen tips.

Ganga and Us

2010-09-11T12:47:00.000-07:00

The two of us at banks of Ganga
stagnant on steps of the ghat
My mind did wander into the depths
of what would eventually tear us apart
Looking at Ganga, I knew
Our love won't last forever
Look at her, she was worshipped
for the divinity she inspired
and life she cradled
Now she is sunk in filth
of remains of her own creation
A womb and tomb, all in one
Carrying the burden of twin curses
Life and death, all in one

We were so much in love
In awe of a whole new world
holding onto our shared trove
There was no way further
from where we stood at the ghat
The steps were drowning
There was no way deeper
than what you owned in my heart
The depths were disappearing
We had to return from where stood
in our hearts and from the ghat
We were too much of a good thing
Our own love wore us at last
Our own trove tore us apart

I still want to stare at Ganga
fathom its depths,though Difficult
with all the chants celebrating a cult
There is a film of pain all over her
The earth never settles, not her fault
Though it is difficult to focus
also there is no more of us
because we returned the wrong way
from the depths and the ghats
we crashed into an abyss
our ocean was quite amiss
One day, I will take the leap
I'll borrow your ocean, Ganga
and I'll bury my love deep.

Why a poem?

2010-09-11T10:34:00.000-07:00

Why a poem? Why about this and not about that? Why not more of it! More importantly why not less of it and get better at it. The pain is I can't write what I want to. I have wanted to write a few things I care about but it never happens. I figured I don't use my brains when I write so I can't write what I want. I can only pen down what flows. Its more like being a clerk of a muse who is still ridiculing me. One day, I hope it will like me more and it will be good.

Rain and Blossoms

2010-09-11T10:28:00.001-07:00

Its raining
I can feel the sand
sucking upto the wind
I can feel the wind
succumbing to the drops
I can feel the drops
seducing the skies
bringing them closer
to earth and to lives
all dry and charred
and now its time
the blossoms flowered.

Indifference

2010-09-06T06:28:00.000-07:00

They say feeling is free
But I am dying of indifference
Of nothing to care about
Though this is a self diagnosis
I am sure doctors will agree
To what I have found out

I don't feel a difference inside
When I dine in candlelight
A well lit face smiling at me
Is not much of a pleasant sight
Everything seems just the same
Can only differentiate between sir and dame

I have failed to find a cure
To this mixture of contempt and coldness
May be its my indifference at play
That everything ends neither in joy nor dismay
Everything seems just the same
Can only differentiate between sir and dame

The show is on

2010-09-04T08:57:00.000-07:00

Quarter to nine, the city is ready to put up the show
same standard version, repeated every day, same fashion
As its citizens pull themselves out of revolving chairs
Piled with thickly insulated cushions, step out of air conditioning,
Life could not get to them even if it was to grow
into a live wire with power enough to fry a water melon

The show is all about being someone for the night
which you are not but you could as well be might
For they sell all the props and every step is a stage
The lights are on all, Everyone is always acting anyway
We just need to keep the acting pompously real
Even when you flash you credit card, it should be surreal

At 9, They get out in all their glory
Mouths full of crap, stomachs with continental cravings
To be there where everyone else , like those other evenings
The show also runs sometimes in those shops of glass
Where people diligently turn up to assert their class
In which case balance on your card makes for a good story

At 10, They need to open their mouths
Thanks to the alcohol awakened consciousness
The obese talk sex, scandals and fitness
They young can't have enough of society and politics
In this part of the show, One talks of the other's weakness
Thus My dear, the show goes on,courtesy people living on hypnotics

The Worker

2010-09-04T05:18:00.001-07:00

There was little left to imagination
in the mechanical ways of machines
he was left to live with
The little time to be human he had
was spent in filth
in the corner of human habitation

A share
something he would not dare
to raise an eye-brow about
A fair share
something that would not come
to him who was without clout

A humanity
so possessed with the idea of science
production, consumption and non-distribution
He was cast alone to bear the non-function
of a system structured to serve the very few
and defaulted to treating him like they knew

He has fought in other ages
when the humanity was transparent
in its ways of marginalization
Now what they have it all covered
in the laws written in scared pages

He would have fought this time too
but his throat chokes with big words
which might stir up the little shame
of a community trying to be in hall of fame
of being cold, individualistic living in herds

has he given up?
More or less so.

Is it?

2010-09-02T08:57:00.000-07:00

Can art be degarded
to mere habit?
will it be an art
if it was't arbit?
Will it be a thought
if it wasn't timeless?
Is there a gradient
to measure orginality?
I mean orginaly,how much
of it existed in reality?

is it beauty
if its polished?
is it mystery
if it can mean something?
is it crazy
if it can be cracked?
is it love
if it can be married?

Let us Know

2010-09-02T07:23:00.000-07:00

Let us know that we have a choice
of knowing
of ignorance
Let us know that we have a voice
for truth
for lies
Let us know that we have a smile
sometimes joyous
sometimes cosmetic
Let us know that we have a mystery
often insignificant
often dark
Let us know that we have a wish
of affirmation
of indifference
Let us know that we have a right
of being wrong
of being strong
Let us know that we have a life
for being us
for being just us.

River Down Under

2010-09-02T04:03:00.000-07:00

There is a river down under
rebellious and red
filled with filth of creation
lack of trust and dread
flowing in brief periods
unrhythmically but well fed
I say, Let it burst
and flood my unrest
when I'll be back at shore
My head will be balanced
for the filth will filter
carry its bretheren along
in the forlorn flow
of the river down under
and I'll be pure and more.

Sparrow, Music and Me

2010-09-01T10:17:00.000-07:00

one day when you learn to sing
well in tune
like that sparrow with a broken wing
but in words I can comprehend
do sit by my side
on the swift melody
with aid of some words
I'll let my sorrow fly
around that insolent bend
of unsavory moments in past
I'll let my ears rejoice
with the sound of music
mad and melancholy
so much like that sparrow
but you must borrow
words from my tongue
for i want to comprehend
what she might have meant
when she last sat together
I, with a cup of tea
She perched on an empty plate
These days music is not enough
I am very afraid
I have lost my imagination of late.

The Cigarette

2010-08-29T09:56:00.000-07:00

My cigarette

He holds her in the narrow slit
of his fingers,one end is lit
and the smoke lingers
long in the air within
longer is the room without
windows, wardrobes and walls

with his back to high walls
his face to grey roads
He has her company
He sends out SOS signals in thin air
in shape of fainiting fumes
and his voice resounds loony tunes

An enlogated piece of misery
savored one puff at a time
The fumes from the burning end
reminded him of his once prime
lost and lamaented upon now
always under covers of smoke sublime

When he was young
not lost in ways of the world
not lost in his own ways with world
He could stand on his own
the need for the stick figure
was not yet part of picture

I feel through the narrow slit
his life is falling apart
like sand from a broken cart
I wish I could let him know
The relief that he is looking for
in smoke, will cost him painfully more

I am

2010-08-22T10:09:00.000-07:00

There was an exercise meant for beginners in a blog about writing. It included writing 8 lines starting out with 'I am'. I thought I'll give it a try myself. By the way, These I am 's don't refer to me!

I am knitting a sweater
I am knitting a green sweater
I am knitting on a chair
I am knitting on a chair by the stair
I am knitting for a missy
I am knitting for a missy who is fair
I am waiting with a jasmine in my hair
I am waiting for the fair missy to be there

She

2010-08-16T11:04:00.000-07:00

So someone let me know that my poems are some chimera. Not fit to be prose and not fit to be poetry either. I am not ashamed, who reads them anyway. I paid some folks 600 bucks to read one of my poems, I hope they say something nice :P
Here goes another disaster of a poem.

She picks herself up
from where the cab drops her
drags her feet along the sidewalk
she meets her liberated other selves
wind and weather
Weather was generous with herself
And wind gossiped away with the watchman
one could sense, they talked about her
She pushes back the rebel strand of her hair
presses tighter on the heels
numbing down the music
of pebbles getting crushed
under mountain of her feet
trying not to announce her homecoming
walking forth in an illusive tandem
frowns at the wind's lover cavorting with dust
she liked order and polished beauty
had given up on madness of free fall
along with moments of rush and lust
Nevertheless, she summed up all creation with her bust

A comb, few credit cards
some clunky pieces of non-metals
yawned together in her fake Gucci
She knew the road ahead
as the back of her palm
she had been here in every era
just with a different form to fill
The road ahead was the truth
she had never deviated from
never did she break any norm
Single, Sober and Silent
She fitted one cast after another
from pariah and purdah
to pen and position
she had come but with no sense of mission
it took centuries, a journey of compassion
she is not free yet, a lot to balance
was rolling on her plate
Embracing every loser
being bullied by the winner
she acted sponge for any blob
swallowing all instance of fear
she wanted it all to be fair
The weakness of her feminine side
denied her the triumph of top
though, there was knowledge
she could transcend boundaries
accelerate till the end
it was all in her head
she could put the woman in her to rest
but as always she is uncertain
How a world with 100% men will fare.

I am a Bitch

2010-08-15T11:15:00.000-07:00

Sorry! Can't sleep. Here goes a very idiotic noodle-poem.

Hey, Don't play it down
when you don't like it
Don't appease me
sugarcoat the shit
you can just say
what you have to mean
I will not bite it
your candy agreement
I am not so keen
on not making a scene
Give me a conflict
if that’s in your store
behave true
and I'll ask for more
does not matter
if the taste is a treat
I care to know
Exactly as it is
for I'll tell you
real simple and neat
I am a bitch
I say Fuck
and not even twitch

He was like a painting

2010-08-12T11:32:00.000-07:00

He was like a painting
whose creator was also baffled
like everyone else
how its colors had accentuated
to symbolize independence
The juxtaposition of shapes
had formed structure of future
and like this painting
as with everything else
done with a master's stroke
his presence was intriguing
it Made breathing easy
in an era polluted with faces
of the same kind
with black tongues
and blonde imagination

He was like a painting
done with no singular purpose
but a collective inspiration
filtered from a sieve
like a beam of sunshine
through banyan leaves
He made fantasy cringe
with his outrageous ways
for me, He was love
a thing to cradle
in your soul
while your world
goes through fits
of pleasure and pain.

On a windowsill

2010-08-12T10:52:00.000-07:00

The stubborn ass train
could not wait for us
to finish one last melody together
and swoosh it went
with her in its arms
The blue bogies became a blur
A big thud !
was all I could hear
in my heart, deep in denial
an explosion of melancholy hormones
for sometime I stared on the empty tracks
searched the horizons
for some face
I pictured a head
resting on the windowsill
Smiling un to itself
Thinking of thoughts
about a pair of restless eyes
searching for her lost presence
and imagining her head
resting on the windowsill
of a bumbling stubborn ass train.

Stuck

2010-08-12T10:36:00.000-07:00

I feel I am stuck
in a box of confetti's
I should enjoy the surroundings
or so I have been told
to adjust and adventure
but where in the box of confetti's
you find something real
with all the plastic
and loathsome luster
my eyes hurt
As my hands
rub against the bits
I feel an even deeper void
hear an even louder cry
pricked by the loudness
of showy confetti's
and shallow existence
in a box of confetti's
I feel I am stuck.

A little whisper

2010-05-06T11:00:00.000-07:00

A little whisper,
just broke my heart,
I tried not to listen,
ran so far,
as long as my legs would bear,
the deep guilt of love,
I hurriedly fled,
like a panicked dove,
But he just caught me,
and told me the part,
where it did not happen,
and it did not last,
a little whisper,
just tore me apart .

The Scent of Earth

2010-04-20T07:32:00.000-07:00

There is a certain violence.
There is an uncertain romance.
In the smell that comes from your bosom,
Like a muffin of mud,
Baked in the volcanoes.
Though it is no suffocating smoke,
But a nasty divine hint,
Scent of a creator.
So aesthetic and so sensuous,
With great sense of measure,
Composing every pint of great beauty,
But hiding in your embrace,
Guilty of creating.
All things beauty.
All things evil.
And Letting it be.
The scent of earth,
A muffled chuckle may be,
Of a God, mocking his own,
Foolishness of quest.
Balance between beauty,
And her sinister sister.
It does not work out,
And Now he knows.
The scent betrays,
His challenged sanity,
The scent of earth,
She as well may be,
Our last consolation,
The last taste of balance,
The faultless creation,
Of the challenged creator.

Make me wonder

2010-04-01T06:57:00.001-07:00

On a bright intense morning
While I turn the pages
Filled with news similar
to the previous days
Not bitter, no better
Longing for an exit
Through its maze
Sipping a brew
Still immersed in
a not so passionate haze
Looking for a diversion
a loophole in the fabric of fate
I wish you tapped
On my shoulders
Pointed out of the window
a clear course
of adventure and immersion
One so obsessive as
Of a diligently brewed coffee
Filled with the aroma
A heady and oh so sensible mixture
Make me full of wonder again
With your obsession in me
On a bright intense morning.

Not_Humane

2009-11-20T12:58:00.000-08:00

I considered giving a prelude to the poem but i won't.It repulses me sometimes to explain myself.If you can not understand unless explicitly explained, you are not human.
Again i considered giving it an introduction,
But then I should have given it a conclusion to. Its hanging in the middle somewhere. Not sure what it would look like in the end.

Once upon a time
In a city devoid of sunshine
The rain ruled
and snow followed
All fire went extinct
All Impulse sucked out of human instinct
The love went cold
on a stove of expensive black gold
Humanity flourished Nevertheless
It did not matter
If all love was lost
No one was ready to bear the cost

The few differed
They went in search for sun
suffered no serious burn
The sun was smeared in frost
They looked for some glow
May be of amber
How would I know
in the cold mold below
Nothing was left but faint
Little hope it left
for warmth to reach the depth

[continued ....]

At first sight and second Glance

2009-11-14T11:00:00.000-08:00

This is funny. I don't know why i wrote it. One more of 15 min doodles and 30 minutes of policing production !
Situation: A guy on Bike. A girl in Honda city. An eye contact and rest is in there from the Guy's viewpoint.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
At first sight
and stolen second Glance
you caught my attention
trust me, I cant bear
All this physical tension
My hearts' in for serious shear
jumping out of this body's mansion

Look, its not fair
you don't even return my stare
while my eyes juggle
the sight of road in front
and of yours deadly giggle
I have no life insurance
and from your side
There is no assurance
that my attention is registered
your ignorance is sinister

You look sideways
but your fingers betray
You feel the attention
Why hang me in suspension
Cast a momentary glance
change your stagnant stance
let me bribe you with a smile
let me ride with you an extra mile
I have deviated
from the designated destination
Least you show me some intention

See, the cross roads have come
Its time for a turn
still your one look is all i want to earn
Your one inclination could decide
How happily will I ride
Rest of my journey, your eyes will guide
A 100 meter far lies the cross
See, you don't have to incur any loss
Just turn and smile
and continue your way as I glide

The cross is gone
But got printed on my face
A pretty lass
thought I was way below her class
She could not even return a glance
Did not give smile a single chance
I just spent my stare
I just wasted my attention
On a passing stranger
Please don't mention
It hurts, There is lot of tension.

What Cometh; Goes

2009-11-02T07:30:00.000-08:00

What cometh , Goes,
leaving thy blanker than before,
behold my good friend,
World may soon turn gross,
You may not have time to spend,
feeling sorry at your grave loss,
You may not have time to confess,
that your life just went for a toss.

What cometh , Goes,
leaving thy blanker than before,
Beware of your conscience,
lest you shall fear,
every man with a silver cross,
and a black robe Who does wear.

Be quick to Purge or Plead,
Empty thyself or Bleed,
Its time to mend your ways,
visit your home, Be wise,
go anywhere your soul lies.

The glitch may be with gods,
but the wise man does more than just nods,
What does your heart pump?
Are you still alive or a lifeless lump?
Check your pulse
Do you feel alright?
Its whole of your life
Not matter of a mere night.

Its time to trace your roots,
renounce your company of brutes,
Its the procession called life,
with whom you walk will matter,
All else is just insensible chatter.

Don't look up at gods and play mute,
He is not going to show you the route,
Take thy people with you,Take thy deeds,
Go everywhere your inner voice leads.

Its not the time to marry their myths,
tarry,wed your own meaningful bliss,
Its the procession called life,
with whom you talk will matter,
All else is just insensible chatter.

Don't look up at gods and play the puppet
Don't act the coward hiding behind the parapet
Take thy will,Take thy imagination,
If all's well,
They'll forge the key to your emancipation.

What cometh my friend, Goes the same way
Life may have overtones of the blue and the gray
loose not the sight of its charms, grace it if you may
Hold your life in your arms, embrace it if you may.

You are my angel

2009-10-21T12:57:00.000-07:00

I have illusions of morbid kind
a fear constantly seizes my stale mind
What If i forget to love
and my eyes no more shine
What if my purity is lost
and my soul is sunk in grime
What if I loose my delight
and my virtues can no more fight
and What if .......................................

Everyday i wake up from a nightmare
a phobia follows me everywhere
What if the ghosts shall resurrect
and I have nowhere to turn, right or left
What if the snakes chase me at night
and my feet collapse under with fright
What if the I never make it home
and the letters I sent there are torn
and What if .....................................................

There is a load of apprehensions and i worry
a burden stealthily tied to my leg, I must carry
What if the chains are never loosened
and my miseries become never ending trend
What if the burdens are never lifted
and my pain is forever deeply embed
What if my journey is alone
and at my death no one did mourn
and What if .......................................................

When the day takes over the night
and the darkness suddenly dispelled
when the gods turn on the light
and i can see you,by side of my bed
The charm of that face rips my fears
The gentle voice slowly warms my ears
You tell me the stories i told you once
I can't help but smile at once
All those stories I narrated
In your memories, they never faded
when I was swept away by the cruel tide
You held on to story of my life

In your words, my soul rests
In your eyes, my purity lasts
In your joy, I see my grace
In your beauty, my lasting trace
Thus I fell in love again with you my angel
and I found myself in you my angel
I glow,I croon and I tremble
I fell in love again with you my angel.

Nameless and Faceless

2009-04-10T00:22:00.000-07:00

A giant piece of me
A thin slice of you
The bitter half in me
The better half of you
A fragile nut in me
A senile bolt in you
Messed very well and true

Soft spots and vulnerabilities
Touched upon and sheltered
Sweat and deep breathes
Slowly came on unhindered
As the sun burnt red n sank
We sat peaceful at the bank
Your silence and my solitude
Fell in love and fled

Knew you well and long
Held you soft but strong
So much was there within
So much was yet to be seen
A lot you promptly said
A lot I better left unsaid

Blunt tongue of yours
Blatant rebel of mine
And Brutal silence of both
Scratched mighty egos

Brassy spirit of yours
Brittle heart of mine
And Bumpy life of both
Screwed up most hopes

I shivered and froze
Shifted slowly to overdose
In light of day
I would simply be gray
In charm of the night
My eyes will meekly pray

You drifted and dodged
Submitted to being a hog
In light of day
Your smiles did betray
In charm of the night
Your soul will shrivel in dismay

Here we are back
On a vicious track
Catching our tails
Covering our trails

The banks are flooded
And bleeds the rose
The leaves lost color
And sky turned morose

The sun burns again
But dimly glows
Without your shine
Lit by my sorrow

With hunger in heart
And hope in tomorrow
We all live by
The nameless me
To the faceless you
Says the last good bye!

Antahkaran / She

2009-04-05T11:45:00.000-07:00

For long she has held inside her
Thoughts of a different she
She who is no more proper n prim
She who is filled up to the brim
She who is more like the inner me
Wild brat , nonsensical and carefree
Now she is all that but too certified degree

Hell no, she doesn't want an abode
She wants to roam from pillar to post
She wants no protection or payroll
She wants to be behind wheels n roll
She wants no trip back home
She wants to be licensed footloose
She wants no designing hefty scheme
She wants to gaze at sun and beam
She wants no concrete paved track
She wants all world to cut deep slack
She wants no spicy curry of lies
She wants simple answers however dry

Damn yes, She looks for some mirth
She also cares to reduce her girth (:D)
But jokes apart, she needs new birth
She needs no heady conventions
She cares hell for pretty pretensions
She needs no bloody suspensions
She wants no restraining precautions
She pledges life to all ten directions

(I don’t blame gin, I blame my nervous system)

10 things

2009-04-05T08:57:00.001-07:00

10 things we hate about you

1. yours is a self realized soul which is seldom sober,
the mind part of which has a glow of amber
2.in name of body, you have a tiny skeleton
embedded with a heart weighing a mighty ton
3. you are the great friend we boast and mull
but i am afraid in folly you may even gamble us all
4. the gladiator of all causes, your mind has a glitch
there are some shears that seriously need a stitch
5. you have a terrible sense of humor that we adore
flat on our stomachs, still we seem asking for little more
6. you are a stubborn "ass", that we so gladly suffer
sometimes you reveal little sensitivity in an empty mental buffer
7. you are no doubt mental with a metal determination
but there's benign insanity that needs timely termination
8.you are a prima dona with numerous loose pegs
all you seem to care about is your sexy long legs
9. you are very dangerous and cranky little pest
we only oblige 'coz with you all days are merry fest
10. you were philosopher at phive but are a child at twenty
in the journey of your life, may you have times to treasure in plenty

(I just wanted to preserve this one. A comp crash would ruin the ------ i put in writing in it)

MY Mood Vs Time Diagram

2009-04-03T13:07:00.000-07:00

Silent Wail

2009-04-03T06:22:00.000-07:00

The beautiful fences I built around me
Failed to protect me from human pain
The more I delve in the irony of existence
The more trouble I have keeping myself sane

Thought, I kept my life simple
And life around me spun up complexities
But May be its just my vision distortion
May be its all creation of my own

Own projections and concocted emotions
the sense of being wound in mythical relations
Own impulses and chasing spirits
The sense of being born with devilish merits

Estranged, I look at mirrors
While they invert the hell in me
Upside down or laterally shifted
The hell doesn't get face-lifted

Dilapidated remains of dying virtues
And the grotesque imagery of shame
Just soaked in blood in innocence
My soul hung up to dry its essence

The hell in me is a deep labyrinth
Twice and thrice, I took a stroll
In its tunnels painted languid pale
Every time, I let out a silent wail

The day it was

2009-03-21T13:05:00.000-07:00

This poem has a story that all its characters know. I wrote in DBMS class and its just too crude as all my other poems but who cares.

Poems we share, We don't intend to snare.

I wrote it with utmost affection in heart so it is more childish than poetic. Here we go at last!

The Day It was
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rocks stood high, Embracing the clear sky
Waves were naughty, clinging to my thigh
Shade of coconuts barely covered my head
Hopes of returning untanned, I had clearly shed

The sky had a golden charm
fine sand kept feet warm
creepy crabs meant no harm
It was just an Ideal sea-farm

We flocked together,basking in sunny weather
Stood by each other,hoping it could be forever
As i look back and sense, there was always a distance
shadowing every instance, Numbing our group existence

Something kept us aloof
from each other and uff!
It made things so dry
days were also flying by
It was all ending in may
Dismal! we had nothing to say

This is how it all began
A sudden spark, A sudden plan
Yippee! Here we are today
On a trip like an old clan

Prem climbed down,
floating amidst rocks, acting a perfect clown
Karun struck a pose
threw open hands with eyes excitedly close

Madhavi was calm
reciprocating the shore's charm
I grabbed a camera and stood
framing clicks in pleasant mood

Varsha was a freak-o-whale
meditating and casting dark spell
Harshita stood one legged on a rock
to others eyes, it was more than a shock

Phani made a striking revelation
He imitated varsha with great sophistication
Snehal added revenue to mallaya's business
he resembled closely Mr. alcohol's mistress

Vipul's hair abandoned his head
enjoying the breeze, it was flying ahead
Jaikish, I hope i spelled his name right
was quite a photographer in broad daylight

Monty python had great time on rocks
while shashank was glued to scenary stocks
Balu was treating camera's with pose
slowly Praveen also poked his nose

Janardhan and Naveen sat quiet and tight
Bhuvanaesh got the dress code perfectly right
Padma's bangles reflected precious sunlight
Anji danced in bus to our great delight

Step aside everyone!
Srikanth is declared hero this day and night

Another twist in the tale
Made Papa turn little pale
We climbed on top of our bus
All felt a severe adrenaline rush
The bus jerked forward,enamoured!
I was left speechless,without a word

It wasn't lonely at top
with friends, It was joyous gallop
held high up among trees, like birds we glide
along the mild slope, chayya chayya!! we slide

The day it was, fun filled and memorable
It'll be history soon but part of our college fable.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Con Amor

Conflict and more

2009-03-21T11:00:00.000-07:00

I heard today its world's poet's day. I must confess, I am going through touch times in my own little world of Maggie noodle type poetry.
May the race of poets survive!

So as its time of confessions! I have been writing awfully these days and I lay it bare to view. Poets don't have secret verses. Guess they are too narcissistic for that! They want to be read anyway!

# 1 . Conflict

I may resolve in your dreams,
But shall never dissolve in waking life,

Hold on tight or move past,
Your own sown dreaded past,
Do all you can but make it fast,
rest assured your follies wont last,
I am present in every present
Glued to your daily breakfast,
You think you can win over me,
Believe me fantasies don’t last.

I breed right in your convoluted mind,
Ways to your heart, I'll always find.
Born of ever growing spiritual deficit,
Right inside you, I live. I conflict!

#2 Glad you asked me

Glad you asked me how I felt
For long I have pondered myself as well
What's the trigger of this unrest
Its long I am hiding in an empty shell

I am not the pearl of someone's imagination
The crude Earth heaves right under my nail
I can view the life around me with least emotion
All plans for me to turn human did poorly fail

Life has over taken me, slowly I sail
In my own vast ocean, stagnant and swell

#3 It was a normal childhood

No one will ever believe what i am about to say
I lived it hard when i deserved to play
stuffed in humble house, knee deep in clay
nothing came easy, I always had to fight my way
Still when people ask me, I candidly say
It was a normal childhood and slowly walk away.

#4 Booze

He strolled to the city bar
his tie hung flat and loose
the day had left its scar
It was high time to booze

leaning lightly against the table, unknown
------------------------------
(I am very seriously looking for an inspiration to finish this poem.. at least one stanza :( )

Women's Day

2009-03-10T11:56:00.000-07:00

My little imagination.
I am not really sure if there should at all be such day.Its more of everyday celebration of our existence that matters but never mind.
My boredom has very colorful outcomes and I am glad i have something tangible.Our thoughts dissolve sometimes so fast that they hardly get registered. I keep trying various options to capture them to have a reference to my previous self. Nothing better than an image to recall how you thought that second. I want to relive that second forever.

2009-03-09T10:54:00.000-07:00

In the beginning of the semester, i thought " damn! there are so few colors in my room. Nothing cheerful to wake up to." Then i thought I'll change my curtains and buy some new sheets or may Get some vases and flowers. Then i calculated and the bill seemed to be too exotic for recession. Guess what! i started painting...

Check my painting line up :D

painting stints

2009-03-09T10:46:00.000-07:00

Oh, I painted this stuff a little while back and wish i could write something truly sensible on it(be unlike me).There is another one which is my favorite till now but i guess its not suitable for public view.

You'll always last

2009-03-09T10:08:00.000-07:00

Picture the wax melting at tip
Of an ordinary candle brightly lit
Steadily sacrificing its own entity
lighting up minuscule piece of humanity
Silent, quiet and sliding down
Making a small contribution
nothing spectacular to astound
Humble, pure and firmly profound
In its decision to take up the call
To light lives in corner of a hall
It's pleasure is the serene smile
On a face lying sleepily on a pile
Lit by its humble aura, breathing slow
In the thin velvet coat of golden glow
It trades its existence for work overdue
Making humanity rejuvenate all new
It'll soon reappear as energy in you
As destiny decides to be casted by few

That's what I picture when I think of you
Subtly building world's future view
You my dear! Will never be utterly lost
Your candid vision will get you past the frost
Clarity and critical mass, your essence will always last.

Life's a bitch

2009-03-09T09:42:00.000-07:00

She's a jerk ,She flirts
Just with you as she pleases
She's savage, She devours
Your confidence and showers ill teases
She's scornful, She hoots
When you are out on own to achieve
She's fluke , She gambles
Puts you at stake, Clearly it looses without mistake

People trust me, I know the disease
I once had it but now am deceased

On god and temples

2009-03-03T13:00:00.000-08:00

An intense scent elevated the senses
Brown mystique fumes immersed me
A golden glow dimmed the amused eyes
Depth of divinity conquered rest of me

lay in front of me was bare resplendence
so Vivid and Unmarred by tides of time
Trajectory of seasons and ages of hate
Never could omit this moving tale
Its existence stood a mute witness
Gazing at the era of mutant male

A soft symphony embossed in stone
Which no single could claim to evince
They say long decades of firm faith
And humanity ,now lost in labyrinth
Slowly made it possible to touch
the mystery we marveled so much

Thinking of the reign of gone monarchs
Here I could see some Painted on the walls
The glory survived the death of the glorified
Carved in stone, mortality was justly defied
The populace and the royal were now equals
Sculpted in stone, silent now no more rivals

They say this temple was carved to a tune
Every stone was a note in the large rhythm
Colored in the pots of honey in the noon
An eccentric poet had melted the bronze
Casted it to statues in shapes of songs
That pink façade was made by the prince
No one saw him reappear ever since

It was a temple
Monument of our lasting race
The god in it was smiling in every stone
joining every bright ray of sun that ever shone

Facing his gaze, I had slowly come of age
The sight around was so profound
I had an eagerness to kneel
To that creator and the inspiration
To that energy which could heal.

An Idea!!

2009-02-21T11:11:00.000-08:00

What the hell have you got in your head?
Your fingers keep hammering the board!
You eyes hovering over the letters in red!
What keeps you awake twisting in cozy bed?
get it out before you hear your friends fled!
So weird , its weeks your hair was duly made!
All you do is keep sharpening that pencil lead!
Writing over and over in the diary you long had!
I am confused, tell me or you are very well dead!

oh Dear! don’t be alarmed, don't get me wrong,
Can't you see, my lips carry a faint song,
I don’t bathe, but trust me it wont be for long!

There is something transforming violently,
In my top floor's empty unkempt shed,
Have patience, Let your arguments rest,
There is energy buoyant inside my chest,
My mind celebrates a beautiful creation fest,
It feels young as if I am put to a new test,
Baby, Its not some dangerous criminal pest,
Its just an IDEA boiling in me with haste,
Its battling to win an entry to world's nest ,
The plot is mine to design, No mere jest,
Let me make it possible, let me treat it best!

Poems never end !

2009-01-21T06:25:00.000-08:00

One evening I rolled out my sledge
The ice was hard, the friction scaled
The wheels screeched and crystals melt
The sledge went on , I fastened my belt
We passed the pastor holding his breathe
As I went down like some freaking gale

Another evening when my fingers held a pen
words swam in my eyes ,widened my ken
I could see a poem planted everywhere I went
As if suddenly I realized what everything meant
Since when the evening settles around the bend
Like that crazy sledge ride, my poems never end

Glad, Let's Blog for change

2009-01-21T05:57:00.000-08:00

At world's end

At the grim world's end
silver sea felt like liquid coffin
Stretched forever with no wind
The birds who flew all along
Suddenly silenced for long
Last drop of rum in the gut
Fuelled the darkest fear but
To die unknown and slowly rust
At the deck, eyes were aghast
Finally recollecting worn out past
Soon bodies will be drawn apart
From the soul and breathe last

----------------------------------
Freer than forever

Freer than forever, here I begin
and world seems wider n fair again
With nothing to hide in life's self
I have songs stacked at each its shelf

---------------

Some more non-sensical stuff

2008-12-07T06:30:00.000-08:00

I don't write because i think i write well. I write because writing does me well. I don't write with any motivation except for some much needed change.

Anyway, these days i have a trouble writing. It never makes sense. I have started irritating people and asking each one "Does it make any sense ?". People are too good to be true. (:D)

Some of the most useless stuff that i wrote in these few days. I am not ashamed to share them.
(:D)

To see you on the other side

--------------------------------------------

"Whenever need be, when I needed you to stand by
It was most painful plight, to see you on the other side
My heart feels suffocated, tears so smoothly slide
It is irony, you have never been there with me close by"

-------------------------------------------------------

The strawberry Love
-----------------------------------------------------

"The fresh figment of our love
Like plump strawberry on mink fur
Lively stretched in the icy winter
Luminous it rose from a mighty twist
When drizzled poured in march mist"

------------------------------------------------------

They are incomplete. I wrote them in single stroke. They are so immature but I will finish them with a glint. At least i hope so.

I would Indeed

2008-12-05T08:53:00.000-08:00

I would climb a mountain for a day's peace,
A height from where I can still feel the beauty beneath,
I would climb atop to see clouds caress the mighty sea,
And the holy wind descending down to the garden tree,
I would ascend to see the yellow green meadows,
And scattered there some lovely slant shadows,
From there gladly I would see the lad's scarf fly high ,
And watch the flimsy kite take over an empty vast sky ,
I would keep an eye on the pond of glistening sweet water,
And see the wings of the white swan open n' fondly flutter,
Hidden in cloak of the sky I would watch the flirty lass smile,
Smile at the passing stranger with two blissful blue eyes,

Indeed, I would climb a mountain for a days peace,
Just hope this is not the tomb of this very masterpiece.

The wish i had

2008-12-01T10:07:00.000-08:00

I want to see the child inside you protected , The child that sees hope at every step.

I want to see believer inside you bubbling, The believer that one day will turn into harbinger of change.

I want to see the rebel inside you alive and thirsty, The rebel that rejects unsatisfactory status quo.

I want to see the artist inside you busy , the artist that gives symmetry to your aspirations.

I want to see the saint inside you smiling, the saint that sacrifices for greater good.

I want to see visionary inside you focused , The visionary that sees the shape of things to come in long run.

I want to see the harmony inside you unperturbed, The harmony that makes you sing your heart out.

I want to see your shoulders relaxed, The shoulders that will solder the disconnect at large.

I want to see your toes pointing to horizons of truth, The toes that'll twist the destiny of all.

I want to see the brightness of your eyes intact, the brightness that beautifies the life of people around.

I want to see your temple high and humble, the temple that is temple of all your creations.

I want to see your fingers firm around the poles of life, the fingers that'll foretell the glorious future ahead.

I want to see your heart joyous and forgiving, the heart that'll bear the fruit of all your creations."

---------------------------------------con amor

Friends of fair days

2008-11-30T11:17:00.000-08:00

For the friends of fair days,
No despise, my heart has ever known,
They have pretty swift wings,
Whose flutter I did never mourn.

(another unfinished one....)

O.o worthy of mention

2008-11-28T17:19:00.000-08:00

I would climb a mountain for a days peace,
just hope it is not the tomb of this very masterpiece.

:D

Slay the Silence

2008-11-26T07:57:00.000-08:00

Say something, don’t be quiet,
The sound of silence reverberates,
Among the walls of our grudges,
For a moment it strikes an ear,
the other it pierces the peace of heart,
Once it breached the dyke of tears,
Another flipped my castle of cards,
We would be frozen if the silence stays,
And broken when it is sadly slayed,
Its better to be in pieces than suffocate in vain,
Its better we melt and are shaped again,
Its better if we meet across this illusioned sand,
I'll be glad if you make it to the no man's land,
One right between us and spread miles ahead,
For once lets do it, for silences' sake.

Koh-i-noor

2008-11-23T09:14:00.000-08:00

From deserts to forests of fire,
I roamed with a gleaming desire,
From Sufis to saffron saints,
I prayed to all figurines human hailed,

I sat on shores of vast ocean,
Searching a clue on slate of horizon,
wasted my days looking for magic potion,
I Sailed to distant lands, resurrected kings inhumed,
No pentacle, no oracle, ever had a tale to tell,
On what I seeked, they were all mute male,

Was I the first one to have embarked,
In this journey to seek the golden lark,
one that sang of truth, sketched the soul of art,
Did no one ever wonder, had no one an ailing heart,
To seek the source of light and of song in our heart.
(To be continued....)

O.o Key Issues

2008-11-22T21:00:00.000-08:00

Always dangling, by my little finger
I keep them close, swing 'nd jingle
They my keys, the mental clinky piece
Seal my possession but do more baffle my vision

They roam around with me
When morning skims in with sunshine
But as the dusk darts in the sky
I hear a rash good bye
Both of us are blown apart
Who's the infidel
Is the tricky part

Searching for them is the only option
Never easier than child adoption
They seem to use an invisibility potion
Where are they, never have I any slightest notion

Its hard , to be set apart
But harder is the fate of the lock,dear
'Coz its gotta go through the shear and tear,
And I have to be the Edward Lear*
In order to make my tragedy clear

*British artist and writer of nonsense verse (1812-1888)

Dastaan Dilli ki

2008-11-16T11:30:00.001-08:00

I was in delhi for a span of exactly 55 days and each day had a color worth mentioning.
I lived in practical isolation will all that was familiar and it had interesting consequences.There is a lot of content about my stay at delhi that i will love to share in this space. some of it is hilarious and others are mostly thought provoking. Very soon (amidst comprehensive exams may be)i'll write about them and till then enjoy.

Blues

2008-11-16T08:35:00.000-08:00

In the blue of the ocean...
I dip my blues...
To come out even.
To look for the truth..
In the blue of the ocean..

In the blurr of the evening,
when lights go dim,
I stare at the moon,
and rejoice the win,
win of the cold beauty,
over the heartless sin

Yes, its the syndrome

2008-11-16T08:22:00.000-08:00

I have finally given a name to my syndrome. Now, i call it i- can- rhyme syndrome. All the fragments that you see below are product of that.

This is another one which wrote during my T2

the balcony is full of wind
the walls don't seem to stop
the nature's messenger
have given up windows to it
and wind is stirring quite something inside

the wind stirs quite something inside
a little wild unlit side
the table lamp is nonchalant
and i can feel the beauty of being alive

i have to wake up next morning
but the fascination with nights does not let me sleep
i close my eyes but don't want to be cut from the beauty
the night has to offer, i want to seep the volatile truth
the ever changing face of life
should i stand and wait
or should i just leap ahead
here at this moment
i have the smell of freshness
but it'll soon wear out
if i stand it'll all clear out
we all move
the scene with the onlooker
we all move
the green with the season
we all move
the moon with my each step
i shall move ahead
with all that surrounds us
its just us and not much
not much to bother if i can take myself with us
not much to bother if i can take myself with us

Life at Sea

2008-11-16T08:19:00.000-08:00

One day at the shore of life
I watched my vessel dive
Dive deep into the water
And then afloat right in the sky

Having sailed in all times
The good, the bad
and the merry gold times
Having sailed in all times
The rainy, the sunny
And the crackling cold times
It never occurred the voyage will halt
And one day I'll be far from the sea of salt

The sea was mostly harsh
And the treasures never came cheap
But when I Cut across the unyielding marsh
I could reach the constellation of fish
And the pearls too could be found in plenty
when I had the courage to dig deep

The sea sulked at times
And my heart used to sink
I could not bear to smile
Till the waves motioned to wink
The sea was often turbulent
shook the ship like weak sheep
I had to repair on all days
But the vessel would always heal
The masts will then fly high

Along the brim will dance the eel

So had the journey been, So far so fair
When it was dark, I was never a scared mare
I loved the smell of adventure
Even coloured my masts red
Invited danger to the deck
And dined with it, what the heck!

Now the voyage is lost
The ship, my soul and the frost
My time in sea was over
Had to take rest from the sea fest
I was buried in a coffin with royal crest
Where I lay above the common rest

The worldly Warrrior

2008-11-16T08:17:00.000-08:00

O the defeated warrior
Retreat to the self
Look for the key
To unlock your faith
In the caress of the
Binding faith
In its idyllic waters
Undo your entangled intellect
With the dip
You will see the divinity
Right In you own reflection
The defeat you thought it was
Will melt into glorious fate

The ones that followed

2008-11-16T08:14:00.000-08:00

My immunity comes from insanity

Walking ahead of time
On the deserted streets of life
I can see pieces of own heart
Strewn on the lanes
I pick up one
And the other pieces scream
All at once
"Don’t take it away
It’s the part of us that
Keeps us serene
It’s this piece of insanity
That makes us immune
Like an antidote
From that of rest of the world"
"

No commitments

2008-11-16T08:06:00.000-08:00

Well, frankly speaking ,its difficult for me to be an active blogger. There are reasons apart from the slow net. Still, I really wanted to share this with all who ever come across my blogs. I have developed a syndrome that makes me rhyme lines and churn out poems like two minute noodles when in pressure or facing a deadline. The line really may not make any sense but they have a soothing effect on otherwise lukewarm head.

Like this one you see. I am a romantic of a different sort. My romanticism is one of optimism and undying hope and my romance is with nature. I would not have written anything like the one below unless in grip of this syndrome.

Love me little but love me long
Say a little and croon a song
O love of my heart
Stay around
Don’t say it aloud
But I know I fear
Parting with you
When the day comes near

Its strange.

futile

2008-09-03T23:42:00.000-07:00

not that i dont land up in such moods, the trouble is i land up in such moods so often. someone has hacked god's server or how else can i explain the origin of such thoughts and the illusions in my brain. the assumption is illusions are not how god wanted to interact with us and its the glitched server that is creating problems.anyway so these days my mood is all about questioning the most fundamental things in life. things which you generally take as they are and dont mess with them.questioning the fundamantals is something i from my numerous past experiences have realised doesnt result in a revelation but in a helplessness that pronounces "you can not have it any other way". but still i always cross the limits amd reach my favourite & useless mood of all times.

In train to BITS

2008-08-30T08:31:00.000-07:00

In train to BITS
“It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end”.
Ursula K. LeGuin.
Everyone has, with all the emphasis that words can muster, glorified the journey. Life’s a journey, success too. So is every relationship that we build all through our lives, a journey to explore the pleasure of mutual existence. Everyone has warned not to get obsessed with the end of the journey. Krishna says to focus on karma (the journey) and not to desire the fruit of it. It is difficult because all we do is inspired by what we mean to achieve through it. All my “not so enlightened brain” can grasp is to enjoy the journey for the end is inevitable.
My journey is fairly simple and whether I desire or not, I in normal circumstances will reach Madgaon once I have reserved my tickets for it. My travelling involves covering over 3000 kilometers of zigzag path with changing trains and waiting for hours on a populous platform, with heavy luggage and no signal, among people who can vary from masons and colonels to maniacs. It always turns out to be little more amazing and adventurous than I presume in the beginning. I think Indian railways can cash in the diversity of companions it provides for every journey.
The junction where I come aboard is full of the usual sights found on north Indian platforms. You can always spot a middle class newly wed couple. The guy with the golden titan watch and brown leather shoes and the lady holding onto a VIP suitcase with dozens of bangles embellishing her wrists. She has vulnerability floating in her eyes and he has the sweet-bitter air of comfort-responsibility hanging about his attitude. I can not prevent my eyes from casting a look at the floor where you will always find approximately 60 people with/without a platform ticket, spending the night on newspapers spread as bed. But in midst of all those happenings, arrivals-departures, the announcements, people cursing them for being an obstacle in their path, they are so peaceful. I don’t know what they see in their dreams, but I believe those dreams must be very beautiful and powerful or how else they (dreams) could keep them so deeply involved. I remember these lines from ‘Faded Leaves’ out of the blue.
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
One day, if I could wait till they wake up, I’ll ask them of their dreams.
You can’t help noticing the walls stained till reach of human snout and after that you can’t help hating all those pseudo -red lipped jerks. I always engage myself in reading all that the walls of the junction have to say, the notices/rules and regulations/quotations of Buddha and Mr. Gandhi/scribbled messages and mobile numbers, all of it. It helps me escape the sense of being casted away from home. The scariest site is of the general compartment of the trains. How do people survive that suffocation to reach the destination? But they do it against all odds. Adaptability, the quality nature most admires and rewards with existence.
Once on any railway station, you have to come across the great Indian student class. In bunches, they will be raving about some examination they sat for while also on their way for next. When their mouths observe the momentary pause, you can very well spot their anxiety right between their eyebrows, just where our ancestors wore their mark of wisdom. When it’s finally time to get on, I look for the window seat. There is something magical about seeing an engine pulling the bogies against the background of the countryside. It’s sort of romantic. I wonder if its because of the song “mere sapno ki rani…”. The next step is to scan the bogie so as to judge the optimum level of interaction with fellow passengers. It generally turns out that I have to keep by myself. A long journey with a window of interaction open just to nature, time dilates and diffuses to remove this dimension from my life for ‘time being’. For hours I’ll escape it (time) and dwell everywhere. The past springs up with the same freshness as the present and the uncertainties of future give way to a strange fragrance. I call it (fragrance) life.
I survive on liquid food and I must tell you this is not a part of my preparation to fly to some alien planet. The food is horrible till I come to the konkan railway region. Though I don’t talk I fondly observe my companions out there. Middle aged men sleeping with their little suitcase right under their head. Guys smoking near the doorway. Women involved in managing their livestock. If there’s a family, then I just am a part of it till they depart. I have a recollection of them all. I have a fascination for people.
Here comes Mumbai VT. And to correctly estimate my feelings for this place, I should say I love it. It feels like home, a big one by all standards. I have six to seven hours in hand and I make best use of it. After dumping my luggage at the cloak room, I roam like a vagabond. Eat on the streets, sing while walking in curviest way possible, picking up every interesting thing, standing on one side of road and staring at people…I do it all. I love the pace of people at Mumbai and their language; ‘sweet-carefree’. And the local trains and its crowd attracts me like black hole. I did a crash course in learning to jump in/out of a running train over there. The whole experience amounts to thrilling.
when my tires get punctured, I return back to find my train standing there for me. Once into it, I can’t wait to close my eyes. And I don’t know when to open them. Its all tunneled, you never know when morning starts chirping. But when you wake up, the greenery that awaits you will never let you sleep. Beauty is intoxicating. The boats, the half clad thin black men, small-small waterfalls, the thatched roofs and their numerous patterns, the nose rings of women, the netted rocks and the list can go on. Every rock has a story and every leaf a tale. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature.As far as the food is concerned, I revert to solid food and the junctions are all so neat and yes scenic!. Quite different from their north Indian counterparts. Thus with a tale of adventure, I reach this place and its worth it.
“All of life is a journey which paths we take, what we look back on, and what we look forward to is up to us. We determine our destination, what kind of road we will take to get there, and how happy we are when we get there.”

from sanctum sanctorum

2008-08-30T06:19:00.001-07:00

How happy are we born! With not even traces of care and concern. No desires and decorum. No ambitions and inhibitions. We follow our own will and sing to the melody of the creator. Truth is our only skill and trust our only nature. When we are nascent, our lives are simple but as growth stretches us we become crooked. Not able to withstand the forces of the adult human world.
I am a naturalist and from nature I have learnt the truth of beauty and the beauty of truth. Nature follows all premises of simplicity and what it establishes is pure symmetry. We all desire symmetry in our lives knowingly or unknowingly. But our chosen means to symmetry are crooked, so we end up being instances of our own means. Elements of our life go out of proportion and ultimately out of our own control. We are lost in this world and its illusions. Though we understand partially the situation we have placed ourselves in, we still go nowhere out of it.
There are three kinds of people living together in this world. One class that wants life to be larger than itself and seeks magnificence in his life. The other wants to live a life that is simple devoid of complexities and is not ready to carry the burden of magnificence. The third lives because it is born and can’t die till death takes from them what life had given. None of the classes are any better than the other. They are the consequences of our own and very personal expectations from life. I belong to the second class.
I have always desired a simple life but after the eighteen springs I have experienced, life is anything but simple. I thought it would be if I try to keep it that way but it does not turn out to be the truth. If I am allowed to use a scientific analogy then my realization has been like believing that light travels in straight line in high school and then later discovering it undergoes diffraction in higher secondary. Like light my life has surprised me with the kind situation it takes me to. Stranger than fiction they say and today I know that they are all correct.

Days At Home

2007-04-05T05:36:00.000-07:00

hey i miss home..miss like badly miss...