Friday, December 30, 2011

Before the beginning

Our story is not fully ours
Bits and pieces don't belong to us
Perhaps that book I read a year ago
 And you picked up
Perhaps the love song
 We crooned as children
Before adult love set in
Half stuck in adolescense
 Half innocence
 And the silent encounter
 Of two lives
Which entwine and grow
 But before this
 Much before
When it was the beginning
 If we could scale down to a beginning
When we didn't have a clue
When I was trying to outrun my shadow
And you were chasing a ghost
In the beginning
 Perhaps in poems
 Perhaps in songs
Or whispers of names and rumours
 Of other lives
 I am sure I marked you
 Perhaps in my dreams
 And maybe you featured
 In random thoughts of sleepless nights
 Which I didn't remember 
When morning ensued
And we went on with our lives
With other heartaches and headaches.
Biding time, designing our lives.

Monday, December 26, 2011

Yes and No

Yes and No
The time it took place.
 You would say 5.42
 You are sure.
 I argue.
 It was 6.17
It had to be.
Like you would say
 It was Beer
 I would hold my stand
 It was Champagne
You would calculate
 It lasted five songs
 But it felt like
 It ended before it even began
No, No I know it felt
Like an eternity
An eternity of  infinite immensity
Of pure dream.
You said it was me
 I said it was you.
 Yes and No.


Love is impatient, it hates to wait

Love is to be done in leisure
There is no place for it
 In times of adversity
 Or grave danger
 Nor in times of humiliation
When the world around you crumbles
 But it just feels warm now
Thinking of you
 I am certain love is
 Impatient, it hates to wait
 For chance and the like
 Or for the hands of fate.
It takes its own course
 In early mornings,
 In darkness and in Erebus
 Love remains and it keeps me warm.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

I experiment

I experiment
Being a wide-eyed stranger
A cruel lover
An honorable enemy
A friend till death do us part
I pass on
 I live
When some faces whizz pass
I try to muster my humanity,
 Between what I was born with
 And what the glare of infamy
Took away from me.
And try to suppress my scientific heart
 I live punctuated with
Abject fear and shame
 I wear a scar of war
On my collar bone
 Like a badge of misfortune.
 I don't think much of people
They claim they love one thing
 Toy it for a while
 As long as it is fashionable
 And pick up blondes, brunettes, redheads
 According to the season
 It's autumn now-
Notice the redheads on their arms.
 Men move on to blondes next season.
I am drawn into this web
 Like everybody else
Experimenting with different stories.



Home reminds me of you

Home reminds me of you
You still linger in these vacant rooms
Like burning incense
To the shrine of Sanamahi
 It reminds me of the girl
 Who spent sleepless nights
 Thinking of you,
 Tracing you, your scar
 Loving you, your mouth
 That girl is now no more
Perhaps just a remnant
Perhaps the silent scar of torrid love.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Wasting my Gift

In diabolical dreams
Ancient worlds
They come to me
 Prophesizing demise and death
And I know I brought upon myself
And I feel the burden settle upon me
Hang on my soul
The burden of the guilt
Of having clear eyes
Of seeing the wrongs and letting it take place
 And not lifting a finger,
Wasting my gift.

Your silent revenge

You haunt me more
As a stranger now
Than when you were a dear friend
You baffle me
 You infuriate me
And all these seem a part of your plan
Your awful retribution
 Your silent revenge.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

It is Time to Let Go

It’s been six years
 It’s time to let go
 To erase your voice
 That has drawn me
 Like the firefly to a lamp.
 I work at it, I do.
 All night I sit up
 Remembering you
 One last time.
 The green-blue veins
 Of your knuckles
 When you strum that instrument
 Or that smile, not quite a smile
 But a paradox,
 That gaze that seemed
 To look right into my soul
 And as I grew up,
 I had to run away,
 tried to avoid that gaze
 Afraid you could read my thoughts
 I stiffen up in your presence
 I put on an act
 To perhaps show that I am indifferent
 Because I don’t want
 To give away my secret
But the gifts are packed
 And parting just a month away
 And I accept
 That it’s time to let go

How to tell the heart sorry


How to tell the heart sorry
For storing years of sorrow?
 How to tell the people I left behind
That I did not get over them?
How to tell winter to be gentle
And the night not to fall too soon?
 So that the strolls can continue,
 So that love can occupy more space.
Or how to ask time what should I keep,
 And what to discard amongst
Love and friends
And new love and new friends?
How to offer peace
 To the terrible optimism of youth
 That drove us blind?
How to appease the blinding anger,
The stab of being let go so easily?
 Or how to face the terrible roads
Burdened with dust of drudgery
And the years of mechanical meanderings?
How to live to the brim?
I asked you once, all those years ago,
 All the eighteen years of our existence
Has come to nothing now?
 What we had built up all these years?
 To what end?
And how to know if this is
Indeed the end?