Tainting Apathy

The papers want

To be tainted.

They pray for 

Redemption from

The blinding of

The blank.

The pen is a 

Messenger of 

The god.

Rescuing the 

Damned.

Poetry is a 

Warrior knight. 

Cosmic Job

There's a strange 

Feeling that's 

Simmering on the

Tips of my fingers.

An unusual quiver

Passing beneath

My feet. 

I feel a layer of skin

Upon me and 

Someone is trying to

Break it free.

Looks like something

Is in wake. 

My pen wants me

To go on a ride.

A piece of paper

Must be praying

For its redemption

From the blank.

Cosmic forces may

Have chosen me

For the job..

To balance the

Equilibrium..

Let me write a

Line. 

Folklore

When this is 

All over.

On a sun-kissed

Month of May.

I'll meet you again.

At a road that

Outgrows all the

Bends,

I'll hold your hand

And walk you to

A place, where

I grew as a child.

Where time is

On its knees. 

Where mangoes 

Still grow in trees.

There's a house,

My Grandpa lives 

Still.

He might not be

Expecting me.

But he'll not be 

Surprised to 

See you as well.

Maybe he'll

Ask grandma to

Make you feel at home.

Cook you her

Signature cashew dish.

And tell you an

Old story that

I've forgotten.

I'm sure she'll 

Tell you about how

Her hens lay egg.

The grafts on 

Guava plants and

The thickness of

Milk her buffaloes

Offer.

She'll insist on

Giving you oil bath. 

And as she applies 

Oil to your hair. 

I'll steal your shy-gaze

To confide our love,

To that moment.

It'll be safe there.

Maybe years later,

Verge of our story

Will be heard as

Folklore.

Unveiled letters

Tiptoeing across

A warm beach.

Gazing vacantly

Into the distance.

I envy the reflection

Of the moon,

On the brink of 

My fluid will.

I think of the 

Sequence of 

Accidents that

Brought me here. 

A twinge of

Sadness.

A surge of madness.

Butterflies in stomach

That emanates from

Series of flashbacks.

This urge to squeeze

Your cuteness.

The way my feelings

Squeal upon hearing

Your footsteps.

This desire to poke

My head in the clouds.

Vain of trying to

Hold time as it passes.

I wonder if the flood

Of this reverie

Ever ends.

The array of this

Longing ever bends.

I wonder if these

Unsent letters ever

Grow wings to land

In your realm to

Come back again..

Un-opened. Un-read.

Guilty Pleasure

The wars my

Thoughts wage.

The revolts these

Emotions stage.

Why is this

Mental carnage

So imminent.

Is there no end to

This bloodshed?

This body is a

Cauldron of craving.

Mind, full of 

Thrust moralities.

Between the

Desires that poke

And the restraints

I exercise..

Everything collides

With one another..

Inevitably a conflict 

Is bound to arise..

So I hold my dagger 

Full of desire,

In a fistful of my

Hand..

And my guilt 

Awaits outside

The bathroom..

To slay me for

Failing another

Time.

Here and Now

The road with

Two curves of 

Bends.

Has no beginning

Or an end.

The birds think

It goes up and

Down.

But the passing

Packet of air,

Takes it from

Anywhere to 

Everywhere.

And the dry leaves 

Assume it goes

Nowhere.

The traveler 

Doesn't stand

And stare.

He's only concerned

About the left  

And the right.

Everyone,

Who presumes

That it goes

Somewhere,

Is in a prison.

Only the road is

Truly free.

Letting others go,

It stays there.

With no beginnings

And ends.

Only the road has

Traveled..

The destination

Is then and there.

New Year

Push your mind to

Fight that noise.

Push your boundaries,

You need to take 

A stand.

The restraints that

Have silenced your will..

Need to break away.

The reservations that

Hold your thoughts..

Be brushed away.

Let the blunt edges

Be sharpened by the

Friction as you try.

The hollowness,

Evaporate to allow 

Something of meaning,

As you sour high.

Let the decay see

A decent wash.

The confines erode,

To open a possibility

For new life.

This is just another

Day of another year.

Welcome it with

Open arms..

Give your legs

A chance.

Give your eyes

A new horizon.

Life is an act

Of moving on.

There's a lot to 

Explore around.

Women

We glorified 

Womanhood

To restrict you 

To brooms.

Celebrated 

Motherhood 

To confine you

To rooms.

We pitied you to

Hold hostage in

Soft-emotions.

Stereotyped to

Force you in 

Clothes of desire.

Ladies first we

Say,

Unequal salaries

We pay.

To force you to 

Cut onions.

Men shouldn't cry,

We declare.

You may wage wars.

Rule the world.

Mother a prophet or

Slave a demon.

Still, you gotta

Take our blame

And make our

Homes.

You're better than us.

Even stronger.

But consolation

Prizes is all you'll get..

Maybe another

Child to pet.

A saree, 

Some jwellery or

One more poem 

Like this one to

Exemplify your

Compliant behavior.

Shower Some Starlight

Shores of the sea

Are cleansed by

The touch of your

Feet.

Winds seek 

Redemption

At the behest of

Your cheeks.

The moon 

Has been jealous,

For over an 

Epoch.

The sun has been

Chasing the dark

To give meaning 

To his fondness. 

Feed this celestial 

Vacuum.

Universe has been 

Lonely all along.

I've wished for a

A glance of you a

Million times..

Pass me through 

One of your 

Thoughts and shower 

Some starlight. 

Olympic Dream

I open my zip

To take a piss.

Simultaneously,

I spit.

The spit and 

The urine collide.

My Olympic

Dream is still 

Alive. 

Song of unity

No, 

We're not afraid

Of the tainted light.

Or distracted by

The lure of

Promising nights.

This is a beginning

Of our unity,

You can't stop.

We're gonna 

Paint our fate in

White tonight.

We've buried

Our vices beneath

A rocky surface.

Cast our hearts

In a smelting furnace.

We can't be dodged

By the vanities

Of the heavens.

Or the scared by

The cold fetters

Of hell.

The rage in eyes

Is awake.

The song of the

Black flags will

Be sung to

Sooth the wounds

Of separation.

From the cold

Embers a revolution 

Will arise and

That'll be you

Elitists' demise.

Beware of the 

Thorns, you wretches.

We feed blood to

The roses,

You preach 

Discrimination.

Marriage

This shade of loneliness 

Hits you in your late 20s.

Feeds on insecurities to

Make your life compliant.

You accommodate yourself

In family trips.

Suddenly try to socialize

With strangers with

Sips of cheap drinks.

You form political opinions,

To fit in a group.

Watch cricket to blend in.

The mainstream is an

Inevitable end it seems.

All the girls you could have 

Had in college.

The moves you didn't make.

The words you couldn't say.

A feminine touch can

Only redeem you,

But your mirror 

Rejects you again.

Your only friend 

Succumbs to a girl.

And now you're really

Fucked in the head.

The loneliness sacrifices 

You to a societal mess.

And you decide to

Get married for sex.

Irrelevance

There's someone 

In the Dark..

I see,

But I don't realise.

There's someone in

The heart.

I can feel.

Can't hold on.

Time always slips

From the cusp of

Fingers.

Moments do become

Incomplete

Memoirs.

There's someone in

The dark,

I don't realise.

He or me 

Doesn't matter.

He does slip from

My fingers.

I do from time. 

Irrelevance is

Something of an

Ultimate demise. 

Dear Loneliness

You cut wings of

Doves and force 

Them to fly.

Pluck dandelions,

Only to throw them

In fire.

Give hopes to

Ailing hearts

Then feed apathy,

To cripple their life.

The prayers that

Taste you turn

Into dirge.

The things you

Touch are declared

As spoils of war.

So ingrained are

Sins in you,

That even after 

Washing your soul 

In the volcano..

The taints still glow,

The guilt still grows.

Leaving you to

Wonder if that's 

Really a curse.

Your heart hangs

In the air now, 

With no one to hold.

Dear loneliness,

I will break from

Your shackles.

I shall not live in

Vain tonight.

Dear Comrade

With the stroke of

Of your tongue,

The words you weave.

The intoxication,

Your eyes spew..

Curl of your lip,

That slays hearts

And subjugates

Minds.

Communists,

Atheists, priests.

Philosophers and

And other fanatics.

How many 

Revolutions,

You must have 

Killed. 

With just a curve

Of your smile.

Are you,

By any chance.

The incumbent

Government? 

If I'd never met you

If I'd never met you,

The food would have

Tasted the same.

The rains would have

Poured the same.

My desires wouldn't

Have taken a leap and

I'd have remained unsung,

Even in my dreams.

..

If I'd never met you,

The winds would have

Blown the same.

The sun would have

Still come up in the west.

My mind would have

Brooded on the idea of

A perfect past.

There would have been

A cacti infestation,

I'd have grown a fondness to.

..

If I'd never met you,

My heart would have

Pumped the same.

My blood would have

Rushed the same.

My room would still

Be dark. Walls be blank.

I'd have romanticized

Pain to write sad stories.

Where I'd have died

Again and again.

..

If I'd never met you.

My words wouldn't

Have flown.

Verses wouldn't have

Rhymed.

With a block in in the

Mind intact.

My throat still would

Have been a graveyard of

The songs I never sang.

..

Greenhouse

Sky is crying fire.
Winds are hurling
A storm.
Earth quivers in
Boggled awe.
As a revolution
Comes alive.

Icecaps are afraid
Of a wave of heat.
Mountains shiver out
In a cold that beats.
Seas too slosh
In scare,
To the revolution
That's in wake.

Forests have lost
Their cool.
Animals are as
Confused.
Trees do anticipate
Something bad.
The revolution in
Wake, is not
Welcome at all.

Demons are
Running for life.
Angels are confused
Taking sides.
Gods sit coughing,
For being pleased
With lit-up cigars.

And the man lauds
The smoke,
He is breathing.
Lits another cigarette,
To celebrate the next 

Revolution he wanna

Bring to life.

The Hunter

Dusk covers the sky.

Dust settles on the

Leaves of trees,

That are tired.

Claws clenched,

Unwavering sight.

A tiger sits in the shade.

In a calm composure,

The hunter is now live.

Rage simmering.

Hunger in the eyes.

Waiting is the only plan.

His patience is dangerous

Than the fangs.

Flies in the milieu

Are fried by his sigh.

Birds are stupefied,

Anticipating a storm.

Only wolves howl

In distance.

They understand

The gravity of the times.

Other biggies don't dare 

To breath a sound.

Mistakes can cost

Your life.

Even demons seek

A hiding.

No one wants to be 

A petty feast tonight.

And that's how hunger

Of a beast smells.

No-one will be spared.

Life is skeptical

Tonight. 

This too shall pass

Sharp edges 

Will fade away,

Against the grate

Of passing time.

Shades will fill 

The divide,

Between the 

Black and white.

The right and 

The wrong

Will be occupied

With IFs and WHYs. 

The splits in the

Skin will be 

Braced by touch

Of a hand. 

The distance in 

Your eyes will be

Held with an 

Incessant desire.

Your sadness is

Meaningless.

So is your happy

Face.

What's done will

Be undone..

Wounds will

Soon be dead.

Pain or pleasure.

Sharp edges will

Fall and this too

Shall pass.

Loop

I got drunk at night. 

Smirked at the moon,

Challenged the night sky,

For some more gloom.

Of many other things,

Defaced walls and

Stoned the mirrors

In my room.

Torn my diaries,

To amend the past.

Puked enough to

Pass to at last.

Then you invaded

My dreams.

To kill me in my 

Mind.

And I woke up

With a sigh,

Feeling my thing

Between the thighs.

This story of 

You and I, is a loop,

Of forgetting and

Remembering.

 I manage to escape

 You in the night.

 Only to be caught

 At the dawn.

Time is slow in Dharwad

Roosters are lazy.

Mornings are not

So early.

Time is slow in

Dharwad.

No one here is in a

Real hurry.

You wake up,

Go in search of

Breakfast with friends.

Hours simply pass,

As sipping chai 

Takes a lot of laugh.

So comes lunchtime,

Roti, curd, rice and

Sambar.

Food here is a wormhole.

Noon-nap that follows

Is a blackhole. 

You just belch, yawn.

And mysteriously you

Slip to the evening.

Sleepy eyes as the

Light fades,

Can anything get slower

Than this sombre?

Gurmit-mirchi-chai

And some more

Laughter..and 

You're back to bed

After a fat dinner.

Dreams bore fruits

Only in sleep.

Fed-up,

The monk who couldn't

Grow beard, 

Decided to leave..

Saying..

Even leaves take

Their own time 

To fall..

Time does really pass

Slowly in Dharwad. 

Uncle-hood

The number of 

T-shirts has been

Reduced to two.

The jeans in my closet,

Are disappearing too.

The themed vests 

Are being replaced,

By white banyans.

Fit full-sleeved shirts.

And well stitched,

Formal pants have

Invaded my space.

Clean shaved face,

Thick mustache.

A tuft of grey hair,

Left un-attained..

Beer belly is a

New reality.

Self-acceptance is

Now a philosophy.

Age stole my 

Ripped jeans,

Adulthood is gone..

A kid in the street

To call me uncle..

I've become

My father.

Come Again

The garden of 

Our muse,

Has lost its charm.

Come again,

To shower a bloom.

The moon flaunts

Too much,

In your absence.

Come again to

Show him,

Who rules the eve. 

I've forgotten to

Write.

I have forgotten

To feel.

From the ruins of

Our love..

Bring some thorns,

While you pass by..

I might need a 

Prick to bleed.

Come again, 

To make me breath.

Come again,

Let me feel.

Come again, darling

To show me another 

Dream. 

Dead Inside

Longing for you

Even after 

Our separation..

If its not enough

Of a devotion.

Then yes.

I'm an atheist.

If still hoping for

Your return is 

Not enough of

Optimism.

Then yes.

I'm a cynic.

In the middle of

The night.

When I wake up

Gasping your name.

The stroke of

That shock..

How can I 

Describe it?

To put it all in 

Words,

If I've not bled

Enough.

Then, yes.

I'm apathetic.

Vacuum

From deep oceanic
Trenches,
Till the vast expanse,
Of the sky.

Collapsing neutrons
In the core.
Till the doused light
In dying stars.

From a widow's
Eyes to
Sinking hopes in
Hospital corridors.

Loneliness prances
Like a
Hell sanctioned,
Demonic Avatar.

And when it
Joins hands with,
The freak of
Re-enforcing silence..
The noise it makes
Is much more quieter.

Like it's a vacuum.
Sheer Emptiness.

Dust of separation

Dust of separation
Has smothered
My verses.
Stories prematurely
Die.

Has stacked 

Pile of time.

Colors have 

Abandoned my realm.
It's pitch dark.

A veil is spread
On my eyes.
Sight is murky,
I'm almost blind.

Dust of separation
Has taken over
My mind...
Thoughts are
Misaligned.
Sense of perception
Is gone.

Has opened some
Wounds,
I scream your
Name.. but
You're not around.

The dust must
Have settled on
You as well.
Are you too

Screaming aloud?

Stories

Some stories are

Written in blood.

Deep trails and

Sharp edges.

They're too much

Of a trudge.

Some are written

On water.

Invisible.

So forgettable,

That, they almost

Don't exist.

So brief was

Our union.

Yet, so intense.

That it was etched 

On a rock and

Later fed to lava.

Dead poets must

Have painted it.

Our story is just smoke.

It doesn't really exist.

But does it?

Save a Spark

Burn a mountain

If you want.

Chase away all

The cold wolves

On summer night.

Tame the dragons,

Or tumult yourself

In a sea that

Cries fire.

But save a spark,

For the winters.

To light the 

Vulnerable nights.

To fight the blue

Of the dark.

Aid of Divine

Her face is

Moonlight.

Her heart,

The blue sky.

Eyes are wild,

Tone is mild.

Her blush is

A killer when 

She becomes

A child. 

..

As sweet as

A butterfly.

As brave as

The late night.

Down the

Alleys of my

Confused mind

She seems to be

The Answer...

To all my

If and Whys.

..

She's such

A joy.

A touch of

Desire.

A miracle,

I'm not gonna

Lie.

A reason for

My loneliness'

Demise.

An inspiration,

Who makes me 

Fly.

..

Beyond the 

Mortals,

Close to Gods.

She's a fantasy

Divised by 

The aid of divine.

..

Hello

These bruises 

And scars.

Half-cut smiles, 

And broken stars.

Little insides that 

Die daily to 

Humiliation and

Self-sabotage.

The taints we 

Nourish to grow

Colors..

A slang from you,

An Arrow from

Another.

Our palette,

Full of blame 

Is pretty much 

Borrowed.

We're poets sire,

We paint in words,

Take on nerves and

Live in shadows.

You may not 

Recognize us.

We don't reside in

Hearts that are hollow.

Come and see us,

If you've time.

We're just a 

Thought away.

If you peep in 

Your head, 

In search of aesthetics 

In the dust 

Of your mind..

Hello..!

Bday Gone Wrong

It's her birthday

And she must
Be expecting a
Gift.

And I'm all
Caught up in
My head,
Preparing a list.
..
The song I
Wanted to write
Hasn't come in
Handy.

For the train I've
Been waiting,
The signs haven't
Been so dandy.
..
My rhymes are
Still broken.
Words,
Incomplete.

The tones are
Out of sync.
I have run out
Of ink.
..
It's been three
Hours,
Sky is turning
Pink.

She must be
Waiting for
Long..
Her hopes
Shouldn't sink.
..
The train did
Reach late and
She didn't quite
Really wait.

But I did sing
A ballad on 

How they kicked me
Out of her
Hostel gate.
..

Dance

Take off the veil

In your eyes.
Brush away the shade.
Color your gaze.
Tickle your desires,
And to the off-key
Music of your
Head,
Let yourself go.

It's time for you
To dance.
..
Breakaway from
The restraints.
Tear off the
Snares you wear.
It's time to stretch
Arms, to grow wings.

To the tunes of
Euphoria that
Bounces off from
Your redemption..

It's time for you
To dance.
..
Let go of the
Bondage of
Guilt.
Wash clean the
Slate of your sins.
Look yourself in
The mirror.
Hold yourself in
A prayer.
To chimes of
Promises you wanna

Make to yourself..

It's time for you
To dance.
..

Pain

Sadness is my

Old-time homie,
We eat for breakfast,
Our misery.

We go shopping
Insecurities.
When needed,
Plan a heist to
Loot pain from
People's treasury.

Demons lend
Ears to our jokes,
Death wants with
Us a fair duel.

The cold blue
Is our fuel.
Guileful smiles
Elevate our pleasure.

We kill ourselves
In our own stories,
To listen to fancy
Eulogies.

Gods bet against
Our fate.
People distance
Themselves,
Vulnerability is
What they hate.

You seem to be
Keen though.
Hurt? or hungry?

Burnt dandelions 

Must have prepared

A feast.

Let's have dinner-

On the other side 

Of a grave.

Lonely

Embrace yourself.

They said.

Opening my arms,

I wrapped myself.

It wasn't warm.

Loneliness is cold.

In desperation,

I rubbed my hands 

Hard.

They caught fire.

Though,

I'm all burnt.

The deep blue of winter

Is not yet gone. 

Father

Went to school via

An enchanted forest.

Fought with a 

Demon which is 

Still infamous.

A plot he missed

Decades ago is

Worth crores.

Could have married 

Someone better.

But was hitched to

My mother.

Snores so loud,

Roofs can collapse.

Belches so hard,

Even Jet engines feel 

The drag.

Shameless farts,

Deep thrust toothpicks.

Hunts ear-wax with

Almost anything 

That's sharp.

Head buried deep 

In news channels,

He has defaced

Pakistan.

Won wars against 

China and has

Defeated Corona

With blessings of

A local baba. 

With holes adorned 

White vest. 

Big belly is his 

Net worth.

Lungi as his Cape.

My father is a 

Superhero, who

Always swears. 

Desert of my solitude

In the desert of 

My solitude,

Winds are strong.

I fly kites.

In the desert of

My solitude,

Water is scarce.

I dig wells.

In the desert of

My solitude,

Roses are sullen

In memory of 

Your lips.

Sparrows have

Stopped chirping.

In absence of your

Touch.

So I string and

Un-string my desires

To place them in

Desolate tunes.

But I fail.

Nothing grows here

In the desert of

My solitude.

Especially hope.

---

ft Dasht-E-Tanhai by Faiz

Conditions Apply

What if our 

Thoughts collide.

Our footprints align

While we walk.

When filled with 

Desire, what if 

Our heartbeats

Synchronize. 

Overcoming all

Our imperfections.

What if our fingers

Perfectly intertwine.

What if my verses

Rhyme to

The tone of your 

Sweet voice.

Will you love me

Then? Or

You'll wait till..

Your mother agrees,

Father approves.

And the family dog

Sniffs out suspicion

For everyone in home?

Pain

Thousand nails pierce

Through roof of my

House.

It rains fire shortly,

Everything is charred.

Oh! Pain is an

Old friend.

He has a stylish entry.

You should see him 

Leave though.

Like an exit wound

Of a high caliber gun.

He snatches a pound of 

Flesh for his dinner.

He cooks it fine.

But the amount of

Salt he puts is extra hurt.

For which I'm not

That prepared.

I love shade

I love shade. 

Things with some

Degree of fade.

Worn out here 

And there.

Bruised, blemished,

Still their 

Entirety Intact,

Oozing life somehow 

From around 

Somewhere.

Like setting sun's 

Red on blue inlay. 

a memory on rampage..

Sometimes a pain,

Sometimes sweet

As rain.

On a stormy night, 

The ship that

Went on a sail.

Trails of longing,

On faded pic.

A lost love that

Sneaks past mid-night

To evade sleep.

Like the tunes of 

A song on tip of

My tongue,

That I fail to

Recall.

The days of

Childhood that

That seems to be

Escaping from

The clutches

Of my mind.

Blessing in 

One way,

From the other, 

A disgrace.

I love shade.

Things with some

Degree of fade.

In your town

The longing

That fleets in
These words.

The loneliness
That hangs in
My thoughts.

The insecurity
I often talk
About and

The sadness
I always
Reflect has

Shades of
Missing you.

A feeling of
Being lost..
Always clung
To the past..

Perception of
Reality is lost,
My reflection in
The mirror
Has started
Wearing masks.

I have been

Waiting on the

Park bench

For years now.

Can you come

And meet me
This time?

The seed of
The apple I ate
Yesterday, 

Is a tree now.

Prison of Perception

There's nowhere to go

But everywhere.

The moon and the sky

Seem dope but

The cosiness of this room

Is also fine.

There's nothing to 

Think about,

But everything.

Our nothingness in

The universe.

Death is inevitable.

But this material urge

Is beautiful too.

There's nothing to eat

But everything looks

Pliable.

Veg, non-veg and

The way I want to eat you,

Even cannibalism seems

Like an option.

This, that,

Either, or.

Neither, nor.

To the sway of mind,

Everything to nothing..

What's right and

What's wrong?

Upside down, even

Sea is an open sky.

All of you

No I don't want a 

Part of you.

Not the face,

Cheeks, hands or

Just thighs.

I want you in your 

Entirety.

All the shades from

Red to gray.

Sweet to cold.

Colourful to bland.

The smiling, sad,

Loving and horny.

Lift you at red lights

Kind of love. 

Miss you in bathroom

Kind of love.

Forehead kiss and

Unconditional kind

Of love to

Tounge grazing

All over you..

Savoury of your moan

Kind of love.

Crying when you're

Sad kind of love.

And loving you when

High kind of love.

Head on my shoulder 

Kind of love.

Steady caress kind

Of love.

Reason for your laugh

And wiping clean

Your sins kind of

Love.

Cuddles and hugs

And lots of hickies.

Finger up your clit,

Taste your sweat

Kind of love.

Either it's all or

None of it.

Sunsets, starlight

And muse of the

Moon, against

Blank stare at

My wall..

All against one,

One against all

Kind of love. 

Wake of Revolution

Termite infestation

In my heart.

Creeping everywhere,

These dusty burrows

Tell me that they're

A piece of art.

Leaches feeding

On my soul.

Purge of my mind,

The Holi I'm part of

Is a bloody war. 

Gag on my mouth,

Flies in my head.

Blood has turned

Thick, 

A nuclear fission

In wake.

These words,

Crawling inside.

Before they 

Burst open and

Write a revolution..

Give me my pen.

We're United by Pain

Masons laying bricks,

Miners in dark pits.

Mothers in kitchen.

Farmers in a field or

Workers in a factory.

All sweat the same.

We're united by pain.

..

Down and dusted.

Sad and lonely.

Smothered by the

Dread of darkness.

All the tear stains

On pillows stink 

The same.

We're united by pain.

..

Viscous fluid of

Crimson red with,

Ashy metallic taste. 

Under the hide of

White, Black, Albion

And brown..

When hurt, oozes,

All the same.

We're united by pain.

.. 

Thirst in Alaska,

Hunger in Africa.

Siberian cold to

Desperate Asians

Seeking an identity.

We all bleed the same.

We're united by pain.

..

Reflection

When I looked in 

The mirror and 

Stared into my eyes.

Not far away from

The back of my head,

A stranger I did find.

I asked him questions

He ripped me apart.

To his queries 

Silence is all I had.

An eye for an eye.

Arm for an arm.

The duel turned

Into a bloody war.

I'm on run now.

I can't face myself

In the mirror.

There's nowhere to go.

Can you do me

A favor?

Can you place me in

A thought and hide

Me your mind?

Tag me with an

Unsual moment

And stash me

In your memory?

Give me a refuge

And save me 

From myself..

Till I can look you 

In the eye and find

A home in myself. 

Tea Boy

The high castle

Of central vista.

Hosted a meeting

To shape country's 

Futures.

Ministers, 

Bureaucrats,

Business tycoons

And diplomats.

Missiles to 

Nuclear heads.

To power plants to

Mission to moon.

Winning wars to

Invading oceans.

Reclaiming deserts

To colonising Mars.

All plans laid out.

Argued, discussed,

Consensus reached

And concluded.

A little boy in 

Chaddi and vest,

Brought tea for

Everyone present.

Some ignored him,

Some felt pitied.

Anyway the chairman

Called the day...

Mission 2024,

Hailed everyone,

To not look back

Again.

I'm Half a Poem Old

As the darkness

Chased whatever

Seemed to shine.

I took a refuge

In whatever that

Would glow.

A child of desires.

Student of reveries.

A protege of 

Whatever hits the 

Roof of my mind.

I was born three 

Nights ago.

Two rains and 

Half a poem old. 

I'm learning to

Survive a game,

That's rigged in

Favour of adults,

Who have forgotten

To laugh.

I wish

I wish I could

Hold you now.

I wish I could

Smell you.

I wish I could

Let these fingers,

Savor the fire of

Your skin.

I wish I could

Tickle your cheeks,

Kiss your forehead

And Surrender

My sanity to 

Your entirety. 

I wish I could

Recline on our

Comfortable silence,

As your slimy hair

Slip through my 

Fingers.

I wish I could have

A peck on my neck

As you grab me to

Embrace me in 

Your arms.

I wish you wouldn't

Have gone.

I wish I could have

Stopped you.

Bidding adieu was

Your choice.

But letting you go

Was my mistake. 

Gone Missing

Did it slip off 

My pocket or

Jumped out of

My wallet.

Did someone

Steal it or

It has gone in

Hiding.

I've searched

Everywhere.

Ransacked my

Room and 

Grazed up my

Insides. 

In my home,

Around the village.

Under the ground

And over the clouds.

I don't know who

Stole my smile..

Maybe the hefty 

Loan in the bank or 

This abject pain in

My intestine. 

Tired, I reached

My home.

Wife opened the door.

And now I know.

Paint of Penury

You say you're an artist who
Fancies to paint my penury.
Would like to put on a screen to
Capture my dilapidated luxury.
But I assure you, the portrait
Won't be clear or colorful.

All you'll have is my hazy face
Shredded by my helplessness.
Dust-stricken hair and sunburnt skin.
Clench of my look and the doused
Hope in my laughter.

The misaligned, tainted teeth and
Beetel juice that oozes from
The sides of my lips.
The hesitant eyelids flapping from
My sunken eyes-- they demand
Too much, don't they?
Might fall heavy on your paintbrush.

You may gauge skin tone of my
Belly, it still looks human.
But do you have enough in your
Palette to portray my hunger?

The weight of my empty pockets,
That droop my shoulders and
These creases that run restlessly
On my hand, do you how much
Blood they want?

Butterflies in the stomach are
Overrated sire. For some hunger is
Not that colorful.

Democracy

Somewhere,

A little cat 

Shredded a library 

After reading 

String theory.

Angels got drunk

And were wasted.

Dogs leaped to

Heaven, to boost

Its morale.

A throat-less goat,

Scared a faceless

Man elsewhere.

Somehow, it felt

Relatable and 

The idiotic audience

Laughed.

Sea turned thirsty

And gulped the

Beach.

Tourists lost their

Minds,

Trashed the place

To amend the 

Their deeds.

Demons and gods

Played a game of

Carrom.

Fought over the

Queen in the end.

Dispute was resolved

Over a rap battle.

Music was bad anyway.

But whoever lost,

Blamed the EVMs.

Goodbye

As the calendar on

The wall turns to 

December.

You decide to bid me

A goodbye.

I wait scratching

My old scars..

To remind myself..

Of my fresh thirst. 

That only you could

Have thawed.

The fresh etch of

Yearning that only

You were worthy of.

And how through

The groove carved

By the fate itself,

You came in like

The wish granted

By a shooting star.

My soul can go

Adrift now as 

You'll soon be gone.

Might need something

To hold on.

Give me a moment

I can tag it with.

Maybe a kiss to

Leave a mark.

Or you would like to

Stab again?

A scar has a bit more

Shelf-life.

Reveries

To have glistened

Daily in your

Elegant shades.

Like a canvas,

I wish I were

The evening sky.

Woven in the blues

Dim, dusky and

Yet, pleasant.

..

To have embraced

You in my arms,

Like a lover lost in

Fondest reveries.

I wish I were

Close to you. 

To be curled up, 

Entangled.

Intimately messy.

..

To have experienced

A life with you.

I wish we were together.

If not here, somewhere.

If not in this timeline,

In another.

Wrapped in each other.

We could have 

Warped realities.

Stopped time. 

..

Desire

You're eyes are 

Oceans.

Cheeks, fleeting

Feathery clouds.

Nose a distant mountain. 

Lips, abode of

Flooding desires.

Arms are such

A comfort.

A refuge in 

Your bosom is a 

Craving hard to pass.

Your back is point

Where my longing,

Turns restless.

Your navel is 

The reason I fight

My demons.

Trails on your skin

Take me places..

Such a feast for

My hands.

The stardust is

Less appealing.

And the sky

Is a bore tonight.

The revelations

Realized in the

Wrap of your thighs.

Have made my

World insignificant

And the cosmos

Smaller tonight. 

ರಾತ್ರಿ

ನಾನು ಕಣ್ಣು ಮುಚ್ಚಿದಾಗ,

ಕತ್ತಲಾಗುವದಿಲ್ಲಾ.

ನಿದ್ದೆ ಬರುವುದಿಲ್ಲ.

ಸೋತು ಶರಣಾಗಬೇಕಾದ,

ದೇಹ ಮಲುಗುವದಿಲ್ಲ.

ಮನೆಯ ಮಾಳಿಗೆ

ನನ್ನ ವೈಫಲ್ಯ ಮುಖಕ್ಕೆ,

ಕನ್ನಡಿಯಾಗುತ್ತದೆ.

ಅಂತರಾಳವ ಕೆರಳಿಸಲು,

ಗೋಡೆಗಳು ಪಿತೂರಿ

ಹೂಡುದುತ್ತವೆ.

ಕತ್ತಲಾಚೆಗೆ ಕರೆದೊಯ್ಯುವ

ಮಹದಾಷೆ ಆ ಫ್ಯಾನಿಗೆ..

ಕೈಮಾಡಿ ಕರೆಯುತ್ತದೆ.

ಮಂದ ಬುದ್ದಿಯ ಮನಸ್ಸಿನ,

ಕೈಗೆ ಹೂವಾದರೇನು?

ಕೊರಳಿಗೆ ನೂಲಾದರೇನು?

ರಾತ್ರಿಯಿಡೀ ಸಾಂತ್ವನ

ಹೇಳಬೇಕಾಗುತ್ತದೆ.

ಕಾಡ ಕತ್ತಲಿನ ನೀರವ 

ಮೌನದಲಿ, ಕೆಲವೊಮ್ಮೆ,

ಚಂದ್ರ, ನಕ್ಷತ್ರಗಳ 

ಮಿನುಗುವ ಕನಸುಗಳಿಗಿಂತ..

ಅತ್ತ ಇತ್ತ ಹೊರಳಾಡುತ್ತ,

ನಾನೇಕೆ ಉಸಿರಾಡಬೇಕೆಂಬ

ವಾಸ್ತವಿಕ ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆಗೆ ಉತ್ತರ

ಹುಡುಕುವುದೇ ದೊಡ್ಡ 

ಸಾಹಸವಾಗುತ್ತದೆ.

Love can Happen Twice

She'll pass by you

As the wind blows.

And the ache in your 

Heart will be 

Just enough to

Infect you with

Her smile again.

Ground would slip 

From your 

Resolute mind to 

Make you afloat.

A song from around

The time will be

Hooked to all your

Desires.

New perspectives

Will be painted.

With different horizons,

At her behest,

You'll be a fool with

Feelings again.

Love happens twice.

Yes! It can happen

Several times.

It's just a fresh wound 

On an old scar.

Old roots giving way

To a new plant.

Love is a perpetual

Itch of the heart,

That always wants 

To be scratched.

A Personified Fantasy

She has the cheeks of 

My niece. The nose of 

An evening breeze.

Eyes of a Storm and

Lips of someone 

I knew in the past.

The radiance of the girl 

I had a crush in class five.

A lingering smile of 

A lady who passed by.

She's the dew drops, 

And the starry nights.

The warmth of the summer

As the winter grows tight.

Decades of longing 

Hidden in Bollywood songs.

A slow-burn-mystery

Of Alfred Hitchcock's. 

A euphoria. 

A melodrama.

She's an array of 

Fleeting thoughts.

An idea beyond 

Mortal demands..

A perpetual reverie.

An enigmatic melody.

Beyond words, 

Beyond definitions.

Of everything I say and

Everything I don't.

Sometimes mighty. 

Sometimes mellow..

She is simply a SHE.

A personified fantasy.

Artistic Paranoia

For a 

Half baked soul 

In a fully grown

Body.

An overcooked

Poem,

For this night

Feels heavy.

The Ill lit humour,

This sweet 

Dessert carries..

Can subsume

A galaxy..

Can't take it

I'm really sorry.

Those compositions

Are musical

Diarrhoea..

Your paintings,

Artistic malaria.

Is this the way

World's gonna end?

Apocalypse will

Just be an artistic 

Paranoia?

I don't know,

You tell me.

Starting with mine.

You're putting all

The lives at risk.

Tourist

As we danced to 

A slow song,

My hands creeped

Over the chimes of

Your navel.

The sky lit up

While you breathe

Passionately over

My neck.

The evening was of

Possibilities. 

I got a little drunk.

You did a lot and

Passed out.

I sat watching you 

All night.

Morning did break

With high hopes.

But you were gone,

Without any sign.

I wrote a 

Little something to

Lock you in a metaphor,

And preserve you in

My diary.

Of the promising eyes

And enchanted smile.

Hope you're not

Another tourist..

Who hitchhikes with

Thoughts,

Trashes hearts,

To be forever gone. 

Myths of Snowfall

Uncle says

Gods plough

The clouds

To grow cotton

In the sky.

Winter is their

Harvest time.

Hence the snowfall.

..

Mom opines that

All the cats in

Heaven caught a cold.

To allergic pollens,

They sneezed their

Furs out.

Hence the snowfall.

..

My grandma tells

Me otherwise.

Angels tried a

Mortal recipe,

To satiate a kid's 

Demand.

A snowfall hence is 

A Cotton-candy

Gone wrong. 

..

My lover is a

Science grad.

She talks about

Inversion of 

Temperature and

Thermodynamic

Laws.

I believe she's

Not right...

..

Maybe the sky is a

Romantic flirt who 

Desperately wants 

To impress Earth..

Snowfall hence

Is a Patronus spell

Awkwardly cast.

.. 

Unloving Demands Blood

Falling for her
Would have needed
No reason,
Her smile was enough.

Like the slide of knife
On butter.
Slip of tongue as
You stutter.
Love pretty much
Is a work of gravity. 

But un-loving..
Demands blood.
A work of iron with
Deliberate thumps.

You may have to
Chop your tongue,
Vomit your guts.
Stab your heart to
Suppress thoughts.

Kill your mind
With sanity,
Slap your fantasies
With a purpose,
To hold onto reality.

Nights become a
Graveyard and of
Obsolete souvenirs,
You become a dump-yard.

Un-loving is like
Digging a well
In the desert to
Forget thirst..
Heat takes a toll later.
But hope will
Kill you first.

Tear Stains

I'm midnight of 

Forgotten memories.

Abode of redundant

Reveries. 

A purposeless beast.

An incomplete dream.

On any given day,

I'm a bird that has lost

Its way in the Tear-stains

That scream.

Atonement

The pain you've stashed in that box. The dark shades on the walls. The nightmares you've grown fondness to. Buried in contemplation, the way you count the ticks of the clock...

The pillows you fight. The way you think about right and wrong. The times you made shapes with your fingers wishing they were a loaded gun... 

The tear stains, blood thump and the labyrinth you traverse full of regrets. The emptiness you bask in and sadness you romanticize.

Everything needs an atonement.

Don't stare at the fan. It's not worth it. Don't try your wrists. It's not worth it. Here, have a hug. Let everything melt away for good. Here, have some warmth. You don't deserve cold floors.

The sky is yours, so are dreams. So is pinch of happiness against the load of hopelessness. May you carve a smile on your bed and have a happy sleep. May you liberate yourself from your own embrace. 

An Oblivious Day

This is a good day. A normal day. A content day. Also a very very insignificant day. No politician has died today. No major war or a tragedy to tag it with a name.

To be attached to a ritual..No demon was slayed or a god was crucified on this day. Neither I was born nor did she. And everyone in my family did fine I guess..no one has to mourn.

Pretty much no one will remember this day. Down in the history, this will be day written in water on glass. An oblivious day. A forgettable day. A day dreaded by everyone.

Gods, because they're not needed. Demons because they're forgotten. And humans, because of sheer boredom. They've to deal with their individual selves today.

This is a most insignificant day because on this day, time is truly dominant. It doesn't let anyone steal any souvenirs, any memories. It has just swept everything in the abyss of oblivion. A job well done. 

Heart Shaped Mistake

Maybe one day. In a far a away place. I will randomly see you. Like I see you daily in million other faces. This one time, fortunately, I suppose it will be really you.

Maybe you'll greet me as a familiar stranger. Like the fading traces on an old paper, you faintly recall my name. Or maybe you'll remember just more than that. 

I might fantasize for a while. Those strands of hair that run beside your brows. The eyes that knock down the shyness in mine. And the faint carve of your lips that bruise my senses.

And in that moment. While it lasts. While the nostalgia rushes cutting all the walls. While the sanity takes a back seat to believe what's infront of me is actually you.. 

A car would honk to invite me back to the actual reality. And I would realise again, about my heart shaped mistake of seeing you everywhere. 

Dream

Places and people

Are fused.

Twisted timelines,

Mixed up realities.

I punch someone

In the face to

Feel the same pain

In my gut.

Corner kick of 

Mine gets caught

By the goalkeeper

In me. 

The junkie I am

Is chased down

By the charade

Of a cop.

I drown in a 

Bucket of water.

But the coast-guards 

Fail to save.

I become a ghost

But no one is afraid. 

My fleeting soul too

Is a classic fail.

Einstein sentenced

Me to Auschwitz

For violating,

Newton's third law. 

The hangman 

Tightened the noose..

And I wake up in

My room. 

Rehab

The letters you had written. Black trails etched on light blue paper. I've stashed them in a box upstairs. Maybe they're dusted. Possibly decomposed. But they're there.

The greeting cards. Flowers that I've dried and preserved between the pages of diary. Your aroma as scars on my skin and your caress in my humility.

I have preserved your smile too. On a shabby sketch on the wall of my room. There's a photo hung around to poke me in the night. Then lot of bits and pieces in the cupboard.

Sometimes, altogether they simmer. Go top, bottom and sideways and take a toll at what's normal and mundane. I get elevated or go down in an abyss. But I don't complain.

My days are long stretched fights with you in my head. They start with you and end with you. I don't like it. But I'm addicted. And I write about it daily. My diary is a rehab centre I guess. At least that's what I believe. 

Freedom

Freedom is a bird

That hasn't seen

The sea.

From behind the

Cage it learnt

To sing instead.

Freedom is an animal

That hasn't seen

The wild.

From behind a fence

In the zoo, 

It made a kid laugh.

Freedom is my granny

Who hasn't been

Beyond the limits

Of a village.

From her own world,

The stories she told

Are best I've ever heard. 

The wings you flap

When you're fallen.

The dreams you 

Hold on even when

You're broken. 

Silence where words

Are not needed. 

The fight you put up

With bleeding gums

And broken wrists..

Freedom is not 

What you're or

Where are you from.

It's what you do

With what you've.

Laugh it out

I was down and

Dusted.

In a hundred feet

Deep trench.

Dark and gloom

With broken jaw

And a concocted

Head.

I was a miserable

Failure when I

Learnt to laugh.

And good god

I laughed my 

Way through.

Been battered,

Blown.

Thrown to wolves.

Been fed lies

And feasted on

My vulnerability.

But I fixed my face,

Straightens my hair.

Summoned all

Courage and

Laughed my way. 

I laughed till

I cracked my

Bones.

I laughed till my

Stomach gave up.

I laughed till my

Legs took me away 

From the abyss of

Past.

I laughed till

My hands faced

The pain in eyes. 

Now it's a habit.

Happy, sad, angry

Or just fine.

Arrogant, sorry,

Guilty or just

Lying around.

I laugh it out. 

I laugh it all out

To live.

I laugh it all away

To pick myself

To hold on.

I laugh it out

Even to move on. 

I've Found You

When I looked 

In the mirror

And looked in 

My own eyes.

Not far down 

From the best of 

Life's realizations.

Not far away from 

The best of my 

Experiences.

I've found you. 

..

At the stroke 

Of midnight.

When the roof

Of my room threw

My past on my face.

I held a faded pic

Between my guilt

And prayers. 

In the clutches of

My humiliations..

I've found you.

..

Down in a 

Dungeon when 

I was lost.

Demons pranced

Over my chest 

And I had to hold

On to something.

Often as a final 

Ray of hope.

I've found you.

..

From the ticks of

The wall clock to

Folds of my bed.

The late night

Rumbling in my 

Head to the 

Post nut clarity..

You're not really

Gone.

..

Like the rustle

Of dry leaves,

And the feable 

Ramble of my pen.

The steady kisses

Of the wind and

The ubiquitous

Strokes of emptiness..

I thought that love

Would last for ever..

But even in that 

Disappointment..

I've found you.

..

Age

Time creeps like

Weeds in my backyard.

For no good.

Eats lots of space.

Last year.

Yester year and

Even before that..

I breathed fine.

There was room 

For sighs and 

Extra gasps.

Now the age thumps

On my chest, like

An elephant made

Of responsibilities.

Making me lonely

And breathless.

Is choking innate

To adulthood?

Shoul I be carrying

A ventilator and

Incubator?

Or just marry to 

Make my copies

Because there's 

No hope on 

The adult me? 

Main Hoon Na

I know you've

Built walls.

Thick skin.

Sharp eyes.

Iron-clad heart.

The glances 

You hide.

The words you

Hesitantly

Give away..

Pics you refuse 

To send and

The songs you've

Stopped talking

About.

If ever, from,

Over your roof,

The moon falls

And gets you

Soaked in starlight.

The cosmic 

Loneliness creeps

To your bed and

You turn vulnerable..

If you just wanna 

Cry it all away and 

Be real for a night.

Don't hold back..

Call me.

I am there.

Russian roulette

 And when the bluebird rides your thoughts and there is no way out. You take your pen and paper and scribble everything down like you wanna bleed it all out. But It's just a trail of mental diarrhea on paper. Nothing redeeming.

Then the bluebird pokes, chokes, and churns you to find a way out. Hours, days, weeks at the cost of coffee; you just waste ink, mocking, the trees lie in front of you as paper.

From morning to evening. You hang to the shades of despair. Hoping for some Redemption, but it's all just buying time to bottle up more frustration, but the bluebird demands and you have to obey.

So you decide to play Russian roulette. You have to. You against the bird. You put in a bullet, roll the cylinder and hold it to your head. A pen in one hand and in the left, the gun, to keep you at the edge. 

Then the pen moves.. some winds...some stars. moon rain. Fuck. Same Loop, and there is nothing new. The other hand takes and clicks. It's a blank. Deep breathe.. The right one goes again.. scribble.. scribble.

The dark the light and insecure nights...Then. What? Wait, wait what. That's all the bluebird demands. Then another click. Fucking Deer Hunter flashbacks, and then the right-hand moves without even waiting for a gasp. 

The lonely. The only... then what? Christiana Perry to George Clooney? you fucker, don't bring clichés curses the bird. Before you ride another thought, it's over. But not really. Three down and still not a proper sentence?

Writer's block, writer's block, I feel like a stopped clock. Hahaha. Let me complete that for you says the left one.

 Writer's block, writer's block. If not, by claustrophobia. You shall be killed by... There... No word. Click. Game over.

Laid back

I imagine myself rolling from over a hill. Down over the slopes then to a flower laden valley. Just like a rhyme-less melody of a budding guitarist.

I imagine myself diving in the sea. Feel the cold and brush of the liberation. Everything washed away to come up clean.

I imagine myself living in a well. Walls collapsing, bringing upon me, all my fears. Then just flapping my wings to escape the demons.

I imagine myself in the sky like a kite. Wind at the helm and birds as companions. The clouds shower rains and thunderbolts applause. 

One of those days of June noons. When I'm confident enough catch moons. I imagine myself not doing anything and just watch the pouring rain.

Brought to life by my mom's chai. Thanking life for its vanities. I imagine myself, laid back, full of gratitude. Trying to find happiness in little things of life.

New Home

Without any;

Twist and turn.

Devoid of any;

Warmth or cold.

My days rolled by 

Aimlessly.

Like a refugee 

From the past.

To seek an asylum 

In the future.

I was in a 

Perpetual exile.

While time dictated

My expatriation.

I had nowhere to 

Belong. 

Then you came

Along...

Hands clasped.

Fingers intertwined.

Head on shoulder.

You've warped time

To hold me 

In this moment.

And right now,

I'm not a refugee.

My exile has ended.

I've found a home..

In you.

No Glory in Suffering

I blew my mind

And broke my

Bones.

Spent sleepless

Nights to fix

My tone.

Cracked my 

Knuckles,

A thousand times.

To show fate

A middle finger.

Even in a storm

I learnt to laugh.

..

Lying dead in 

Your room,

Collecting dust

As you brood..

There is no

Glory in suffering.

The light at the

End of the tunnel

Is just an unlit 

Lamp.

You just have

Forgotten,

The matchstick

You've already got.

Time doesn't heal..

Darling,

You need to put on

A mask or shed one,

To move on.

.. 

Things will end

You may run like

A charging bull.

From place to

Place.

People to people.

Over the fence,

Over the fate.

But eventually 

All things end.

There will be 

A bend.

No-one left to

Lend you ears.

To douse your fears.

Nothing will be

Left to look back.

And ahead there

Will not be a 

Simple, straight track.

From a kid who

Just learnt to talk

To the granny who

Vents ghastly

Laughs.

The galaxies in

The far-fetched skies

To the quarks in

The depth of an atom.

The bull on run

Needs to gasp.

And eventually

Everything needs

To halt.

A bullet that has 

Left a gun to a

Flower that just

Lured its hunt.

A second has 

To eat an hour.

A day has to

Subsume a year.

The rage in your

Haughty eyes to

The mellow memory

Of her rose scented

Smile.

From the faded pic

You hold between

Your guilt and 

Prayers.

To the life you've

Built in colorful

Layers.

Your revolution will

Turn around.

Plan will fall will 

Fall apart.

And as you run out

Of breath and

Wait for a gasp..

Eventually,

There will be a bend.

And everything will 

Come to an end.

.. 

Hunter within

I gag my laugh,

And whack my

Mind to

Feed this night

To a lonely delight. 

I fight with my

Shadows to sleep

With tomorrows.

Throw myself to

Pretense, to deal

With my past.

I lie, I laugh.

I usually move on.

Till I see myself 

In a mirror.

Even in the dark,

It illuminates

To reflect my guilt.

These are the days

When I'm a game.

But the hunters is 

Elsewhere.

Who's doesn't 

Shoot to kill.

Stares instead.

He stares I feel.

He stares to

Make bleed.

Invokes in me

Self sabotage.

Maybe that's how

He hunts.

He convinces his

Kill.  

And sometimes,

Not elsewhere,

He's within.

I'm afraid..

The hunter 

Might be me.

Opportunism

A strand of hope

Is lost to the ruins

Of last evening and

Swine smells the

Dead to mock

Life that's left.

Gods watch the fun

While eagles dive 

Down unchecked.

Some out of hunger,

Some out of thirst.

Some out of ignorance.

Some didn't care

What was the need

And died out of greed. 

A blade of grass then 

Glistened with greens

And the devil..

And the devil did

What it's good at.

Ran for elections.

End of Childhood

When did your

Childhood end?

When first time,

Responsibly you

Took a piss? 

Or

When you washed 

Your ass after 

Taking a shit? 

When you wore 

Your dress without 

A mess? or

When you

Counted all the

Numbers without

A guess?

When, mom sent 

You to school 

Without a kiss or 

When you consciously 

Noticed your 

English miss?

It must have

Ended somewhere..

The last day of

Gully cricket.

The day you noticed 

Your pubic hair. Or

When bathing daily 

Became a habit 

Out of compulsion?

Mine did,

At the age of 10.

When my uncle,

Who was always

Sweet and offered 

Me toffees, 

Became my ghost.. 

For touching me 

Inappropriately.

Dead Room

As the ticks of

The clock,

Hammer through

The stillness of 

The night.

In a room that's

Dead.

Sleeplessly rolls,

A person who has

Forgotten to fight. 

Restlessness,

Flutters like a bird..

Corner to corner..

Poking old wounds.

Mocking budding

Hopes. 

Silhouettes,

Of memories with

Wrinkled faces,

Feed on colours.

No shadows cast.

No legacy left.

It's a clean sweep.

Oblivion sticks on 

The walls to absorb

What you remember.

Even demons are

Anxious to make

Their mark here..

The dead are afraid

Of being forgotten.

But tonight,

I have decided to live.

I'll tame that bird.

Paint on the walls,

My fondest memories.

I shall invite all my

Demons for a feast.

No one will be 

Forgotten tonight.

No one has to die.

Insomniacs are homeless

In this room where intensity of light penetrating the darkness is dwindling. Where only ticks of the clock fight the deafening silence..

I lay here suspending my animation. I roll restlessly on my bed like I've forgotten to fight long ago. I fiddle with chances of me able to make it or simply give in to fade away.

I don't respond to the mice that run around here. Neither to the suicidal noises that take a toll now and then. It's simply a long run of nothing. Pure emptiness. A vacuum.

Do you ever feel like you belong nowhere? Not to yourself, not to anyone or anywhere. Doesn't that send creeps sometimes? How to find a purpose in these sorts?

Then I look around and take my mobile. Put on the incognito and jerk off hoping to fall asleep. I do. But is that the answer? Or it's the only one? 

I suppose life is a really long journey to fall asleep. Finding ways to sleep daily to pass out ultimately. Maybe sleep is where we belong. Sleep is home. The only purpose. 

Letters have come back

If kisses could have 

Been sent through

The winds and

Hugs through rain.

Little anger of mine 

In thunder and

Simmering care through

The lightening...

The clouds would

Have gathered and 

The air would have

Hauled heavy.

The sky would have

Conspired with 

A thunderbolt to

Flood her city.

But no..

She refuses to open

Her window and

The letters I had sent

Have come back.

A spell of drought too

Has been added now,

To my longing.

Go ahead and Smile

Her razor sharp

Eyes feast on 

Mellow evenings.

Her soft hands lull

Early mornings

To sleep. 

The deep desires

Of an ocean, 

Stand shaken by her 

Naughty lips.

The light beyond

The stars, bows down 

To the elegance of

Her cheeks.

Even Lord Indra 

Is impressed by 

The rhyming stance

Of her gait.

What else is 

Required to kill

A boy like me?

Go on darling..

Go ahead and

Smile.

(Translation of previous poem)

ನಕ್ಕು ಬಿಡು

ತಿಳಿ ಸಂಜೆಗಳ 

ಕದ್ದು ತಿನ್ನಬಲ್ಲ

ತೀಕ್ಷ್ಣ ಕಣ್ಣುಗಳವು.

ಎಲ್ಲ ಮುಂಜಾವುಗಳ,

ಸವರಿ ಮಲಗಿಸುವ

ಮುದ್ದು ಕೈಗಳು.

ಸಮುದ್ರದಾಳದ

ತವಕ ಮೀಟುವ

ತುಂಟ ತುಟಿಗಳು.

ನಕ್ಷತ್ರದಾಚೆಗಿನ

ಬೆಳಕ ಭಕ್ಷಿಸುವ

ಮೋಹಕ ಕೆನ್ನೆಗಳು.

ಇಂದ್ರನೂ ನಾಚಿ

ನೀರಾದನಂತೆ..ಆಹಾ! 

ಅದೆಂತಾ ನಡುಗೆ..

ಬೇರೇನು ಬೇಕು

ನನ್ನಂತಹ ಹುಡುಗನ

ಕೊಲ್ಲಲು?

ನಕ್ಕು ಬಿಡು.

You're the master

Fate is a spectator

With lots of 

Disregard for your

Life.

You alone make 

Your destiny.

Series of choices

Is what you are.

High was never

In the bottle.

Neither in the

Alcohol.

Flight was never

In the wings.

Nor in the assured

Skies.

Cooking is an act

Of a craving toungue.

A murder is first

Committed in head.

The trigger of the

Gun is often mind.

Hilt of the knife

Is always your hand.

For better or worse

You alone are 

Responsible for your

Acts. 

As, even the Gods

You worship can

Turn out to be 

As dumb as you are.

Mom Always Cooks

It's Saturday, mom is on fast.

Her offering to Lord Hanuman.

Still, she cooked.

A few days back she was sick.

Fever took over. She shivered.

Could hardly stand. 

Still, she cooked.

Months back it was her birthday.

Everyone wished. 

There were gifts.

A celebration and a party.

Guess who prepared the feast.

On Mother's Day, she cooked.

On Father's Day, she cooked. 

When she was pregnant she cooked.

On the day she delivered me,

She must have cooked.

Maybe when the nascent earth was

Born. When the planets aligned and 

The big bang happened.

Even then she must have been cooking.

Through the world wars and 

Through terrorist attacks.

Through earthquakes and

Volcanic eruptions..

Even when my father abused

And when I made her cry

She still cooked.

Maybe that's how she expresses.

See how conveniently I say that.

She cooks when angry.

She cooks when she's sad.

She loves me by cooking.

The salt is perfect even when

She hates. 

Global warming hasn't stopped her.

Neither has the feminist movement.

Maybe the future of flying cars and

Sarcastic robots will make her wonder

And make her laugh and she'll

Still cook.

One day she will die and 

In her own funeral, she'll be 

Compelled to cook.

And that'll be the last meal 

The world will ever have. 

Redemption

Between your ears

There is a prison.

Down your throat

There's a whistle.

Clenching your chest

A pump dictates

Terms of your life.

The thing between

Your thighs cries

Purpose of your life.

While two beans around

Same region has

Mocked it all the while.

The words that 

Quiver in your hand

Are in search of a

Place to safely land.

And how nice it is

If your redemption

Comes via the verses

You write.

She Rains

Moon was made

A canvas to

Paint a dream.

Sun was tamed

To find my way

To heaven.

Stars were just

Another excuse,

The reason is same.

My desires always

Take off from

Depth of the oceans..

Destination is her.

Some fantasies

Crash land on 

Barren swamps..

Points of my despair. 

They eventually

Become poems.

It has rained here

Anyway.

She must have

Opened her window

And kissed the winds

Of Punjab. 

Monsoons are her

Grace in my place. 

Loneliness Everywhere

I've soaked and

Wrung my brains.

Been hung in the

Backyard to dry.

The sun hasn't

Come up.

Loneliness

Everywhere.

My dead room is

Averse to light.

Repungent to hope

Or any kind of 

Laugh. Has been

Dust laden and

Cries for help.

But the brooms have

Gone on strike over

Salary hike. 

Loneliness

Everywhere.

The pen in my

Hand is unmoved

By empty pages.

The nib chokes

The ink.

My thoughts quiver

And evaporate

Failing to find a 

Safe passage 

Of life.

There's loneliness

Everywhere.

The dried rose petals

Between the pages

Of my old diary,

Have forgotten it all.

Now I search 

Relentlessly for

My past.

Adrift, aloof...

I'm Lonely

Everywhere.

The thing between

My thigh to the

Pump between

My ribs.

The syrup in my

Veins to the 

Wires till brain.

All ask me questions.

Searching answers

I've run out of life. 

And like hell 

Sanctioned act of

Blight, it prances

Over my chest. 

Like the little kid 

Of my elder sister.

Effing loneliness

Everywhere. 

Kink

Bit by bit,

Ain't no shit,

He did have

Me, 

With his

Sense of wit.

Was it my 

Face that's lit?

Or my 

Protruding tit? 

May sound 

Weird, but

I liked his way,

Every bit of it. 

Lips are craving

My desires are

Adrift.

Head is on

Fire,

Wet is my clit.

I want his chin,

Deep in my bin.

Win me over

And conquer

My will.

Days full of

Restaurant bills.

Nights soaked

In drips of 

Routine drills.

I want him by

His neck to

To burn what

Rests in his wick.

Don't judge me

Just yet,

I haven't told

Everything.

This is just a

Brick in the 

Construct of

Of my kink. 

But I'll easy.

Let the things

Unfold slowly.

Till then,

Let the room

Remain lit dimly.

Neglected Child

My shiny yellow ball

Was stolen by

The neighboring

Fat old aunt. 

The crayoned sketch

Was eaten away by

The white wash of 

The front wall.

Our dog that went

Behind dad to

Send him off,

Never came back.

Sister got into 

The wheels and

Shortly, ceased

To breath.

My brother always

Got the better half.

Mom loved him more,

I don't know why.

Bullies in

Hostel rooms.

Teachers in school.

Even dad care 

For me didn't last

Longer. 

All my memories

Are traces of tears.

Places of 

Good old fears.

Can the tamed bird

Not sing in the

Cage?

Do children not

Deserve God's grace?

Astral

I like the way

Your lips lie

About what

Your hips might

Want.

A tight slap.

Maybe a

Rough squeeze.

Then there's that

Glint your eyes

That wants more

Than just that. 

A jerking pull,

A forced kiss.

A batista bomb..

Or breaking bed

Mishap? 

The way you 

Fool me with

Your eyes..and

Taunt me with

Your poking nose,

Makes me force

My desires.

Let's not waste 

This night darling.

Let's unleash

Our madness

And bask in

Carnal wildness.

Souls are tough

To touch they say.

Let's dive deep

To find out if

Bodies are portals

To an astral life.

Be a Metador

Give a makeover

To your diary.

Your dreams 

Needn't be silent.

Save pain for the

Daylight.

Paint your nights

In red while you

Still can.

Spring may not

Be as pleasant.

Neither your 

New job.

Endings are not

Always sunsets.

New beginnings,

Not that simple.

There's no shame

In painting, 

On a canvas that's

Black.

You face your 

Demons by 

Taking them by

Horns.

You may not be

A metador, but

When a bull pokes

It's face..

What options,

Do you have? 

Story Barter

Each time sea-waves

Break on the beach.

A story is left to be

Forgotten.

Well stirred.

Well thought and

A well crafted story

Is left in the sand

To be gone.

I dipped my feet

To forget my own.

Ended up writing

Another instead.

A story absorbed

To abandon another.

Against the one I wrote

To let another float.

The one that came 

Out as ink is fine. 

Mine must be a

Giant-sad-wave by now.  

Reminiscing is a Full meal

Memories have a 

Wrinkled face.

Nostalgia feels 

Like grandma's

Place.

Cosy, comfortable.

Worry free and

Free, fat food at

Will.

Reminiscing is

A full meal. 

And I've been

Dipped in the 

Trance of past

For so long that..

Now, I'm an 

Overweight ass.

My mind may break 

Bearing all my past.

Doctors advised me

To exercise and run...

But in the end,

It took some writing 

To shed calories 

From my head. 

Tipping Points

I've saved you on

Edges of my brain.

On the peripherals

Of my ribcage.

Have paused you

On a song that

I've left unplayed.

On the last pages

Of a diary and

Final episode of

The series, Friends.

In the first glow

At the dawn.

Last shade of

The dusk. 

Pizza crusts and

In the late night

Rush of lust.

In a quest I 

That didn't last.

In a eulogy I

Wrote for my past.

On the stretches

Of that coastline,

Where our love

Stood divided

By our caste.

Windowpanes to

Broken earphones.

Lost wallets to

Half burnt memories.

On the creases of 

A faded photo.

On the verge of 

A loaded gun.

Sweaty frustration,

Of a summer to

Unsettled longing

Of winter nights.

Even at the brink

Of my suicidal

Mind and on the

Swivel of creaky

Old fan...

I have saved you

On every tipping point,

As my shattered soul

Needs a holding.

As, only the

Reminiscences of

Moments with you

Keeps me going.

You know you're in love

You know you're in love.

When the smile on your lips

Starts transcending down

In your eyes then to the nights.

When rainbow changes colors,

You know you're in love,

When questions in your mind

Seek answers in heart.

When the luminance of her face

Wards off the darkness of your life,

You know you're in love,

Seeing the moons even in noons.

Everything is walk on water, sail through wind.

When the world is defined in music 

And you're a poem in making..

You know for sure that you're in love.

P.S- viator style 

Let the storm pass

The chaff will

Be sieved away

And grains will

Be yours.

At the break of

The dawn,

The remains of

The night will be

Done away to

Offer you warmth.

Reds are beautiful

Shades on the

White.

Pauses are needed

For something to

Rhyme. 

Let the remains

Of the past crumble

Like Berlin Wall.

Haze in your mind

Be scared away

By Cuban missiles.

Like the

Sea-waves break

On the beach,

Leaving bits of its

Forgotten..

What belongs to

You, will remain...

Just hold on.

Let the storm pass. 

Fortunes

Your days

Might be starker,

Nights must be

Darker.

Saturn might

Be brooding

Over a wrong

Place.

A black cat

Must be frequently

Cutting your,

Routine way.

But hang in.

A moon may,

Flirt with your

Ill fate.

Some fortune 

Might

Just be offered

In your dinner

Plate. 

A red might

Hit your bed.

Might as well

Parent your kid.

You're just

Twenty five,

It's not too late.

Good thing 

Needs waiting,

A beautiful life

Might indeed be

In making.