Necrosis

Yes, we lack purpose, hate loving.
Despise living and love the dark,
Against all social norms.
But don't call us dead yet.

The heart might not be beating in
Lieu with your scales.
Breath might not be in and out
In accordance with your cues,
As we're not slaves.

The wings flutter erratically
The thoughts derange and paths
Often change. But we're trying..

Lips are a few inches wider,
If that's what you call a smiling.
There's a small bulb light always
These days as you're afraid of me
In the dark.

I'm trying to die a little less these days.
The mutilated nose is growing back,
And the twisted feet are turning around.
Necrosis is failing and my friends in
Hell smell the stink of betrayal.

Goodbye Chester, Goodbye Willis,

Goodbye you son of a gun, Hemingway.

 
The golden drop of life still seems
To be waiting for me she says.
So I refuse to die this evening per se.

Self-

The self wanders, takes a walk,
Goes on hikes and on rainy days
Hops on untrodden paths to
Get lost for good.

Gets twisted, and stabbed in all gore.
Obliterated to dust and ash.
And each night after work,
You gotta pray, conjure and
Force it down in the confines of
Yourself to love, hate and abuse
It to keep it around.

It needs coaxing, cajoling and
Appeasing and lots of pampering.
Self is a cougar who thinks she's
In a teenage body. A gigolo who
Assumes he's a warrior's daddy.

It fleets without fidelity and
Decays fast to the cues of inevitability.
The self can become a drunken sailor
Who gambles his fate for a
Cheap bottle of rum to sink the ship
Where there's no water..

So you need to be at the helm

As a captain always, like Jack Sparrow.

Though drunk and losing control but

Playfully enough to keep the heart intact 

Even when you're lost.

Meanwhile

Meanwhile, the wind blows,
Leaves fall, Dogs bark and
Their voice is dissolved to 

Nullity in a while, but 

Someone, somewhere will 

Listen to their silence.

It rains elsewhere, a baby
Cries after birth, eggs hatch
And the flowers bloom.
Even in war people prepare
Lunch and hum.
Life goes on.

Someone falls in love,
Someone else falls out.
A stone that moved from here
Creates a hole.
But eventually, it'll be filled
By water, dust, or trash,
Or by a combination of all.
Somehow people make peace
And find their place.

Things take time while they
Wait for stuff to happen to them.
The boredom of beauty,
The rush of chaos or any other
Way, if it could be put in.
Life happens like a Lazy Giant
Taking eons to open his eyes.

In the far reached of the sea,
The spring will hoist its Sail,
To reach that one last leaf
On the withered tree and
The next day you'll be surprised
To see yourself infected
With a fresh bloom before
It's too late.

Zone

When you listen to a good song

And it rings in your head and
The world for the next
Twenty-four-hours rhymes.

The leaves fall in melodies and
Noses on the faces dance rhythmically.

The same goes for a good movie.
It's like walking with a Polaroid
Next day- just the shade and color
And elegance coming your way-

To stay for some time.
You forget for a while of all misery
Of the world and your own
Disposition - blue and pale.

There have been World wars in
The past and there are ongoing
One or two.
But people have still managed-

To cook food and have lunch.
Flowers still bloom and
The butterflies learn to fly
Daily, a couple of times.

Owning a Consequence

I keep tossing a rupee coin
Repeatedly to see if
I could change the odds

Heads, tales, heads, heads,
tales, heads, heads, tales
Tales, tales, tales.

This one time it balanced
Itself vertically without giving
Any results and I thought
It was beautiful.

I thought it beat the odds.
Maybe it is one way of
Taking a pause to ponder
Over the overwhelming stuff-

One's going through.

Yes, the end is inevitable.
It's this or that- in the end
Of this journey, there's a
Car crash.

But prior to that, the decision
To stop and weigh a choice
And own a consequence,
That matters.

Your wish to become
Something- head or tail-
It matters. Even if the inevitable
Fate is exactly the opposite.

Act of Randomness

Sometimes you fly so high,
That, it makes sense if you
Fall a little.

Sometimes you live so much
That, it seems normal
Even if you die a little.

And you've been sad,
And miserable all along.
If someone gives you-

An orange that's already
Been peeled. Take a slice
And enjoy a little.

You deserve it.
Even though it doesn't
Look so. You do.

Take it without any judgment
Or hesitation. Without any
Need for self-pity.

It's an act of randomness.
A favor of probability of
Large numbers.

Only so much sadness
Could have been thrown
At you that, eventually-

A little happiness was
Destined to reach you.

Defeating the Dark

I close doors and windows
Pull down all the curtains
And make it all dark in my room
In the broad daylight.

Then from around the window
I let sunlight pass through
A small hole and I sit on
The floor to just stare at
The incoming ray of light.

That's one way to reassure
Myself about how sometimes
The faintest of light can defeat
The darkness.

Then in the process,
I understand, how there is
No darkness at all.

The supposed darkness,
Is just the absence of light-
Confines of walls, curtains,
Closed windows and doors.

Do you understand me??
Do you understand what
I'm getting at?
Sometimes, all you've to do-
Not even do.

Just remind yourself to open
That door, the window.
Just remind yourself to
Light a candle or lamp
Or the fluorescent light.

Or maybe you can
Just smile and that's how
You can defeat the dark.

Makeover

Throw away your phone,
Go into hiding. Lose all the people
And break all the bridges.
Don't buy anything new to see
If you can live without vanities.

Go on without eating for a day.
Try holding your breath for a minute
And still better, try not to speak
To anyone for a couple of weeks.

Pack your bags, buy a ticket to
The general railway coach or
Better travel ticketless.

Climb a small mountain alone.
Talk to strangers, make friends
Drink, party and leave without
Exchanging any modes of contact.

And remember her too, then let her go.
Torch all those memories.
Rub the leftover ash on your body.
Dig a six feet ditch and bury

Yourself till you don't make yourself
Anew next morning.

Staying Alive

To love life when you don't have

Stomach for it. Everything you 

Build, when it crumbles

Like a sand castle against

The feeble breeze you loved.

And your gut aches, your heart 

Fails and the air that wants to 

Get inside feels so thick in your

Throat that you just want to

Vent it out, than inhale.

And the things you want to do,

All your goals and aspirations,

They lose all the meat there was

To sulk in a corner celebrating

The glitter of accumulating dust.

Even then you gotta rise up 

To the occasion to hold tight

Your old buddy-- This Life.

To calm him down with a peg of

Some old-fashioned whiskey.

Feed him half-fried omlettes,

Boiled peanuts and chicken lollipop 

To say cheers all at once to 

Jolt him back to this tragedy 

Called life.

Exhilaration

A spark from within 

Grows shoulders and 

Hands. And out in all 

Excitement, it leaps to

Grab it all.

Stretching itself, as it

Extends to the sky.

What it could have is

Only a drop.

Without slightest of

Disappointment.

It says- all right! 

Probably, next time.

And the meaning of 

Exhilaration, I suppose

Is that's all- giving it

Heck of a try and still-

Keep the inherent 

Fire intact.

Dissolve

Out here, upon this hillock.

As the tiny lavenders ruffle,

To the brush of my palms.

Little grasshoppers run

Awry and birds flutter their

Wings in a hurry.

Across the horizon, the clouds,

As they gather and bring

Upon the blessings of rain.

It occurs to me..

Right here. Right now. 

How I could just melt away,

Dissolve in the rain, and

Run down the muddy stream,

Flow through the city,

Join a river and then the sea.

Swim along the coastal shelf,

Mock them little fishes and

Freeze off to the dread of sharks.

It occurs to me, how beauty

And feeble gestures of nature,

Fills these hollow spaces in us..

Soften our edges to make us

Aware of our own existence,

Individuality and imagination.

Surviving

I tumbled in the

Sea of sadness.

I had to build

My boat again

To stop myself from

Drowning. 

But isn't it 

The task? 

Picking up

Ourselves again

And again till we 

Make it to the 

Shore..

I borrowed

Handful of water

To make myself

Some tea.

When the sun

Came up from over 

The salt-scented

Horizon,

I tasted a sip

And captured with

My polaroid,

The scene. 

Surviving pretty

Much is a 

Salt and sweet 

Deal. 

Flowers

Flowers are a 

Vague strand 

Of hope, 

When everything

Around has 

Surrendered to

The onslaught

Of dark.

The pale yellow

Of marigold might 

Not shine enough,

To break the

Tethers of night.

The bright red

Of roses might

Sulk in a corner

After failing to

Summon ample

Amount of fire.

As, sometimes

Surviving the

Storm is important,

Than making a 

Point.

The lilies and

The daisies, 

As they wait,

Not yielding to

The subjugation

Of demons..

They become 

Windows to the

Derailed rays of

Light.

The flowers 

In the night are

The first songs

Of an arriving

Dawn. 

Pretense

The flower that

Has bloomed,

Looking upto the sky,

Has forgotten the

Smell of soil.

To the false 

Promises of 

The moon and 

The stars. 

It has lost the 

Sense of where 

It belongs.

The leaves and

Twigs feel like

Restrains.

The foliage like

A prison it has 

Been held in. 

To the illusion

That is set in,

Should it mistaken

It's petals for 

Wings?

Who doesn't

Want to scale

The sky?

Knowing its

Limitations

Hasn't the Hen

Given up on

Its own flight?

Our flower has

Fallen in love

With its own

Reflection. 

Narcissistic pride

Has grown out

Of proportion. 

Unrealistic

Aspirations has

Messed its head, 

When it looked

Beyond  its roots 

And learnt to 

Pretend. 

Give it a try

A mountain 

Might be wanting

You to climb it.

To see you gasp. 

The rain might

Be wanting you

Make your moves.

To see you dance.

Fear of the dark

Might just be

The delusion your

Mind has cast.

Who knows what

The devil wants.

He must have been

Waiting for you

To light a match.

A poem might

Be wanting to

Fall suitably in

Your lines.

A story might be

Wanting to take

Refuge in your

Diary all along. 

The distance of

Longing, might 

Just as well be

Deceit of mortal eyes.

Who knows what 

She might say.

Hurl a smile and 

Give her a try.

Good day

On a good day,

The fire is afraid

Of burning itself.

The huts have

Been saved.

Water is scared

Of cutting through

The ground.

The farmers have 

Been graced.

The storm has

Contained itself,

And the sailors 

Feel blessed.

And on a 

Good day like this..

As the sun shines

Bright.

And the flowers 

Bloom fine.

The fate has 

Tumbled off a rock

And everyone is

Having a good laugh.

Transcendence

Don't try,

To force

Your thoughts,

Against fragility

Of words.

Till they fit into

A noose and

Die dry on a

Sheet of paper.

Don't try,

To milk your

Emotion into

A jar of pretense.

Till they choke

Under a charade

And fail to evoke

Any real feeling 

Off them.

Let it come to

You like a 

Feeble caress of

A lover.

Let it come to

You like a 

Gentle brush

Of wind.

When you sit

Aloof and as she

Passes by in

Your mind like

A fagrance.

If a tiny spark

In your mind,

Materializes into

A thought to

Fall in love with

A word.

Maybe then.

Maybe then

Pick up that pen

To trace the

Transcendent

Line.

Other Side

Roses want to

Chit-chat but 

No-one wants to

Talk.

Beetles want to

Have a blast.

No-one is ready

To laugh. 

Butterflies,

Forgot all their

Songs to fly away 

In the sky. 

Elephants gave up 

On Spelling-Bee 

To join a

Circus instead. 

Grass is

Greener on the 

Other side

They say..

Some left the

Mainland for

The lure of the

Coastal breeze.

While many

Unfurled their

Sails to persue

Similar dreams.

Gratitude to Self

Hey, listen.

Take a moment.

Cut yourself some

Slack. 

Close your eyes.

Inhale, and

Hold your breath

For a while.

Let the crackling

Of your thoughts

Take some time

Till they glare again.

Hot gush of blood,

Hold on for a bit

Till it'll rush back

To head. 

Can you compose

Yourself to hear

Tick of the clock?

Lay back a little

To feel the sweat

Off your brows.

How about the

Birds that chirp

In the distance.

Might they want

Your attention?

And the rustle

Of leaves.

Swish of wind.

Flaunted blue of 

The sky and

The smell of

Jasmine that wafts

Past.

Does she come

To your mind.

Does he still ride

Your thoughts?

Let's remember

Someone who has

Gone away before

You could thank.

Or the one you

Couldn't forgive

Enough.

Can you feed that

Dog if you see it 

The next time?

Play with the cat

If it hops in on

Your lap.

Give it a thought.

And now,

For once.

Pass yourself 

In your mind.

Remember your

Face, smile and

All the good things

That have happened

While you're around.

And before you

Open your eyes.

Give yourself a

Silent hug.

Forgive yourself,

And also thank.

The child in me

The child in me 

Wants to go to

My grandpa's place

To be lost in his

Stories again.

Climb the trees

To eat unripe

Mangoes and

Eat all the roasted 

Cashews without

Sharing with anyone.

The child in me

Wants play with

Fire. Conjure, 

The courage to

Leap in to 

Experience things. 

Learn, unlearn

And re-learn.

Just like how

One has to be

Persistent to craft

A kite and put

It in flight.

The child in me

Wants to imitate

Shaktiman and

Also understand 

Gangadhar.

Believe I can fly.

Still be grounded.

Ignore the wounds

On my knee and

Run again like

There's no tomorrow.

The child in me

Just wants to talk

To the adult me,

To hold hands and

Shed masks.

Fill courage and

Say it's alright.

Climb mountains,

Sail across seas to

Show how belong,

And where to 

Belong.