Blame

Beast of the

Ocean,

Can ever be

Tamed.

A boy high

On love,

Will ever be

Sane?

For the 

Shipwreck,

In his

Ribcage,

He has drunk

All year to

Forget her

Name.

Misery is

Optional,

Inevitable

Is pain.

For our own

Acts of vain.

It's we who

Should stand

In shame.

For the sins

Of wine,

Can the gods

Ever be blamed?

Smile a little

Smile a little,

In Saharan Africa,

It just might rain.

Out in an ICU,

You might soothe

Some pain.

..

Smile a little,

A man in a

Lonely room,

Might not go 

Insane.

A Jane Doe 

At the brink. 

Might start 

Living again.

...

Smile a little,

To not let

Soldiers' efforts

Go in vain.

An orphan 

Somewhere, 

Might feel

Embraced.

..

To our cold

Misery,

Let's not let

The world wane.

Ye, all.

Smile a little,

It ain't a bane. 

.. 

Ink Flow

He can't write,

Anymore.

Thoughts have

Gone rogue.

She has 

Gone away,

His heart chokes

In a morgue.

A drought 

In in his mind, 

Hardly anything 

Grows.

It's been ages

Since,

Any of his words

Have last flown.

He's a poet

With a plough.

Tills himself to

Keep the Ink aflow.

But it has stopped

Raining there.

Is there a 

Way out? Bro.

Procastination

Time and again,

He scrolls 

Through memes.

Tick by tick,

Every minute ends

With a shriek.

Doesn't take 

A peek at

The work that's

Pending from

A week..

Completed a

Revolution,

The hour hand

Vents a cautionary

Scream.

He overlooks

Again,

As if time ain't,

His means.

Day ends with

A screech,

The work has

Gone out of reach.

Gets between

The sheets,

To declare, again,

How tomorrow 

He'll not have

A breach. 

Procrastination,

At its peak.

Another day is

Added on to

The fifteen day 

Streak.

Hero with a Cape

Too much to care.

But I'm left with

No capes to 

Wear.

Most are torn.

One that's left

Is is hung in

The backyard

To dry, I swear.

You're welcome,

To judge.

This how I look

When I ain't brave.

Bitterly blue and

Cold. Stuck in a

Room, with no

Courage to dare. 

Couple of more

Hours, if you may.

Once it dries,

I'll have a mask 

To wear.

After that,

Upon my pants,

Even I can pull on

My underwear. 

Netflix and Chill

Jack and Jill,

Did a Netflix

And chill.

Came close

At will, then,

Forgot to take

A pill.

Born was Bill.

Expectations

To fullfill.

Sleepless nights,

A daily drill.

Drama was a

Emotional grill.

Life turned

Uphill.

Of that night,

Both are 

Horrified still.

There's a moral

Here, to instill.

If you have time 

To Kill-

Any fancy frill,

But never a

Netflix and Chill.

Forgetting

Each day..

What remains

Of her fades,

A little.

Sometimes 

Her hair.

Sometimes,

How she looked

In a winter wear.

Yesterday day,

It was her 

Second base.

Day before,

Her her curves

Of a flower vase.

Today, I forgot

Her name.

Now,

Only a half

Painted face

Remains in the

Game. 

Of which

I hardly care.

Few more days,

Done and dusted,

She'll be nowhere.

Forgetting

Someone is an

Emotion so rare.

Self love is 

Important,

Buddy, you too, 

Take care.

Way Back

Last night's

Hangover is

Hard to pass.

I can hardly

Make it to the 

First class.

Ain't a good

Student I once was.

She left,

Now I'm an

Empty bottle

Of glass.

Days are

Tough,

Nights are 

Rough.

In exam halls

I often hit a

Duck.

Ran out of luck,

Life's a

Absolute fuck.

This habit is

Hard to check.

Just behind

The rack,

There's another

Bottle of

Daniels Jack,

Enough for today,

To find a

Way back. 

Naughty Game

Night is up.

Guards are down.

For the game

We're gonna play,

These robes

Are a shame.

My lines are

Yearning to be

Rhymed.

Your curves must

Be longing for

Some chimes.

Let me pull

Your hair,

Slightly,

Pat your rare.

Shift my gear to

Squeeze your

Rounded pair.

Holding back,

Is a mistake

So grave.

Your urges are

Mine to to care.

Sometimes up,

Sometimes down.

Let the battle of

Breaths sway.

We're gonna

Ride today, till

We can hardly bear.

A GB still left

Why won't a 

Shooting star 

Come down,

While I make 

A wish?

It's been long

Since I had

A fish.

The astrologer

Did blurt.

The Saturn does

Always hurt.

With one of his 

Moons, did I 

Ever flirt?

I don't recall.

Can be an 

Interesting quest.

 ...

She left, then,

The bike broke.

Even in the lame

Arguments,

I do choke.

Father,

Ain't proud.

Uncles always

Frown.

Mother too

Looks me down.

Guess that's all

There's to own.

...

The curd-sugar

Combo hasn't

Helped yet.

Limbu-mirch,

Visited a witch,

Taveez too

Had a glitch.

Life's such

A bitch.

..

Everything has

Been put to test,

God knows,

When he gives

My case a rest.

Let him take 

His time,

There's no haste.

A new day is

Here, for me

To waste.

Lots of work,

I'll do my best.

..

There's reading,

There's Writing,

Physics, Chem,

Creb's cycle and

Fucking Sin

Minus cos theta.

I'm Still left with

A GB of data.

Incognito is on

Jai Vaishno mata.

...

Self Introduction

I'm a light
Hearted bloke.
Little drowsy.
Little woke.
Bit haughty,
Totally broke.

Too ugly for
That matter.
Insecurities
Are the only
Things I own.

Laugh at others
Is all I do..
Humour is the
Only emotion,
I understand.
Sarcasm is a
Routine attire.
My life is a
Tragic satire.

Through the ups
And downs,
Picking myself
Up very loosely,
I don't think, I've
Much to offer,
But, if you insist,

How about..
Another joke?

Dreamer

Today,

The winds are

Pretentious.

Moon, bit more

Narcissistic.

Birds, chirping to

Seek attention.

Trees, clapping

Out of compulsion. 

Somewhere,

A mountain

Must have died.

A river might

Have dried.

A shooting

Star to go in

Vain...

A lover might

Have cried.

A dreamer must

Have woken up

With a sigh. 

I'm just a

Disappointed guy..

Sometimes a 

Mountain. 

Sometimes

The sky.

A dreamer by day.

A seeker by night. 

War in Head

I sell mirrors

In a kingdom

Of blind.

Words of wisdom

To a crowd

Of deaf.

..

Finding order

In chaos is

One thing.

A knack for

Stoning the

Still waters is

The other.

..

Mundane choices,

Usual noises.

Between extremes.

Lost in the grey-

Hot iron's been

Cast in shape.

..

The sword 

That's cast has

Waged, heck of a

War in my head.

And the blood that's

Split has sung the

Same rhymes again.

.. 

Ummeedein

Dil ki baat,

Dil mein nai rehti.

Mann ke pinjare 

Mein bandh rehti nahi.

Teri nazar ki

Bansuri chalti rahi,

Purane ghavon pe

Waar badta gaya.

Thi talash 

Ummeedon ki.

..

Bhook mithi nahi,

Pyaas bhuji nahi..

Jis Roshni ke 

Talash mein,

Hum tere gali mein

Phirse chale aaye the.

Waha shaam ho 

Chuki thi.

Wounded Pen

Sometimes 

My blood gets 

Frozen,

Skin turns thick.

Mind goes blank,

Pain becomes 

Illiquid. 

Empty walls 

Stare,

Blank papers 

Mock.

Solitude turns 

Into a mirror.

My reflection, 

A failed 

Literature.

I keep stabbing

Myself to make 

My pen bleed.

Ink-trails are 

The only way out

It seems.

Wounds are 

Portals to

Freedom,

When the soul

Does freeze.

Quill is the key.

And the bird that

Flies away is,

A poem indeed.

Phoenix

Each day, 

I make your 

Effigies. 

And

Burn them

By night.

From the 

Ashes,

You're born 

Again,

By dawn.

...

Phoenix is 

A bird that's 

Born out of 

Love.

And burnt

In loss.

About the 

Prison

It cycles in,

It doesn't 

Know at all.

...

I think

That's how

I'm losing 

Each day...

Hope in 

A prison,

Is not good 

After all.

..

Poem is a Flight

Mind took me

Places.

Hovered on

Dreamy lands..

Thoughts took

A shape.

A Blue Bird

Was born.

It grew wings.

Was meant to

Fly high..

...

But my throat

Is a graveyard

Where words

Often die.

A standstill.

Fluttered wings.

Poked my mind.

And hit

Some walls.

A frustration

Set in. 

Each day an

Attempt was made.

But how do

You make..

A Dumb person

Talk?

A pen

With a paper

Was such a 

Plan!

And at the 

Behest of 

Ink trails,

Emancipation came.

Thoughts flew

Off my brains.

Peace is just

Another bird.

Poem is a flight.

Vulnerable

I hum over 

The mundane.

Sing when happy.

Seek ink trails 

When sad.

Carry stars in

Pockets to

Swim through

The darkness.

..

Giggles in the

Funerals.

Not so uncommon

Dark humour.

Melancholia 

At will.

Long stare at

The ceiling fan.

You know..

Just incase...

..

Quite unusually,

The radio plays

An unfamiliar song.

Maybe Italian.

But who cares

Right?

Death has 

No color. 

..

The crowd and

Empty rooms,

Are the same.

Silence and

Noise, 

No difference.

The same strand

Of thought,

Which gave me

Clarity,

Has recocheted 

From the edges

Of my brain.

..

The fine line

Between black

And white is

Now lost in 

Grey.

And right now,

Even if you

Stab and say

"Trust me".

Maybe I will.

Right away.

..

Topsy Turvy

Suddenly everything turns dark. Sounds fade away. You drift into a tunnel. A dungeon of unending narrow walls. Life seems to have suspended.

Storm of questions. Mismatched answers. For a moment a streak of light appears, then nothingness. A voice shrieks in head and suddenly throat clenching vaccum.

Then the ground from under your foot slips. What was in head gets a shape. The mindful experience turns physical. Tospy turvey, you just cascade down. Then a sudden jerk. A halt. 

A faint sound from somewhere hits your ears. You open your eyes. What a relief. You wish that was just a dream.

But was it? 

No Nut

November ends 

Tomorrow.

And I haven't

Written a thing.

Such a losing

Streak.

Or is it my

Way of

No nut 

November?

Either way.

Not having an

Orgasm is

Frustrating. 

Place to Belong

The storm

In me has

Gone athirst.

Battered,

Shattered and

Helplessly lost.

It takes me

Places.

Hills to broken

Hearts,

Oceans to

Empty minds..

Lonely rooms

To nostalgic past.

Rugged roads to

A future

That’s lost.

From pens to

Papers, then

Moon to a

Mistress.

Hasn’t found

A home.

With the thirst

Still intact.

A refuge is

All it wants.

…

But is there a

Place?

To tame its

Rage,

Brush its hair.

A hot water

Bath and

Stomachfull

Of broth.

A lullaby

At night to

Sleep without

A fight.

An easy dawn.

A lazy day,

And for a

Shady evening,

Full of play.

Is that much

To ask?

A place to

Bask all day

Long..

A place to

Belong.

Monotony

With the roads 

And rhymes of

April and May..

Summer is

Gone.

...

Rooms and

Nights.

May and

Mights.

Through

June...

Monsoons

Bid goodbye.

...

With reds and 

Yellows gone..

Dust like

Thoughts brood..

On December now.

And I'm sure..

January will 

Stink the same.

..

The Late Night Rush Hour

It was past midnight and like any other night; I sat reading in my house. Facing the wall, sitting on my sanduk with a clipboard on my lap, I sat there trying to ingest whatever it was written in the book I was holding. All around me there were my classmate and juniors in their deep sleep. The winter that was set in was demanding some warmth from within me and it was almost time by then- I was seventeen- to give away myself to the hormones that were agitating inside me.

It surely wasn’t the first time I was sensing the poke of my beak. I knew its sensitivity but I had never really paid it any attention. I knew this word hasta maithuna from the adult books I had read. Which is a Kannada word for masturbation. I knew what it meant and what will be the resultant. But I hadn’t really had given it any thought until now.

The clipboard that was on my thigh had acted on the sensitivity of my thing. When I became conscious about it I deliberately started pressing it against my beak. It felt good. I could feel it stiffen against the fiber of my underwear; sending slight tremors around my body. I did it often while I turned the pages of my book. It was a novel relieving feel.

Then I turned around my head to check if someone was awake. Everyone was fast asleep. Then I wanted to explore this fantastic pleasure. Surreptitiously I pulled it out from the side of the shorts I was wearing. For my surprise, it wasn’t dark as it usually did. It had a light complexion, the color of my palms to be precise. I could see faint bluish-green veins through the foreskin. Which suddenly reminded me of what biology teacher had said, “Erection is due to rush of blood to the spongy tissue penis contains”. Then, I held it in my hand, pressed it gently. Good heavens! It felt awesome.

Now things were in a flow. Just like that, I was sliding it back and forth which enlarged it further. The tiny little dark thumb-like projection had stood up in an obtuse angle. All fluffy, tight and handful. My whole body had its center of gravity shifted at my shank. Now and then watching around for random eyesights that might put me in an embarrassment, I played with my shaft; as it was assuring a kind of salvation at that moment.

After a while of playing with it, I felt it might throw up. It felt like a strong urge to urinate like urine is pushing from inside. Not that I was that naive. I had heard and studied about the semen that comes out. But had never seen it. For that time I suppose I had only urine in my mind.

Before I spilled it all around my place. I covered it partially by the seam of my short and walked to the toilet. I stood there shaking it in its full glory, occasionally watching how it behaved. Each stroke added some extra pleasure which pushed me to shake it more rigorously. The moment was intense, heated. I was going into a kind of trance. While there was a strong push from within and my eyes were squinting, I was like ahhhh! The ooze came out. It was whitish sputum like. After the throw-up, I was out of the trance that had engulfed me for a very brief time. I was back to the drab reality of standing in the toilet. Then it started to shrink in a relaxed manner.

When I was back, I was exhausted a little and sleepy. The thing that started that day remains an addiction till date on daily basis. Sometimes acts as a sleeping pill.

War for Sleep

The loneliness

Has conspired,

With the dark 

Tonight.

Aloof,

My fluttering eyes

See myself reflected

In the ceiling.

Melancholia rhymes,

To the tones,

Of a long lost,

Past.

Questions,

Unrelated answers.

Made up scenarios.

Top class illusions.

Insecurity plays

Video games.

Anxiety,

A street dancer.

Nights like these,

Are tough. 

Rough.

Total fuck-ups.

I wage a 

Full fledged war

On myself to

Slip into sleep.

Imagery

Beyond the

Boundaries

Of flesh and 

Bones. 

Of your walk

And talk.

The radiant

Smile and

The playful

Taunts.

I've a imagery 

Of you.

..

Carved out of

Metaphors.

Cryptic

Paragraphs.

With carefully,

Chosen words;

There's a 

Dreamy 

Painting of you. 

..

A rhyming nose.

Rhythmic eyes.

Superlative

Cheeks and

A chin that 

Just fits fine.

A face full of

Melodies.

..

Van Gogh's

Starry night.

Rahman's 

'Tum Ho' laden,

A blend of 

Bukowski's

Wine.

Northern lights

To swirling

Westerlies;

An eternity 

Dances down

Your curves.

..

And

Through the

Lanes of 

My mind.

When you

Transcend

Down to

Thoughts.

You grow wings

To take form

Of an angel.

What's left

There after;

Is just your

Radiance and

My insignificance.

..

A Warm Goodbye

We're not on 

Good terms.

I know.

The longing

Is gone.

Glittery fantasies

Are worn off.

There's just

Indifference.

Haughty sarcastic

Taunts and

Lot of blame.

The castle

We had built,

Is grounded.

And

Brick by brick.

We have 

Managed to

Find a place

In its ruins. 

But can I ask

You something?

Beg for a 

Favour?

Can we love

Properly for

Another week?

Can we relive

Some moments,

Again?...

Just for the 

Sake of it.

Let's giggle

And cry.

Take the 

Mountains to

Breath and sigh. 

Allow me to

Smell you.

Play with your

Hair and

Just for a night,

Let's become

Vulnerable and

Drown in each 

Other. 

Take me to

Your favourite

Temple.

I'll believe in

God for a day

And pray.

Let the fresh

Smell of coffee

Pass past our

Senses.

And an elated 

State make us

Compulsive.

Darling...

Let's not fade

Away like

Strangers.

Let the parting

Not stink with

Apathy.

Let's undo

This properly.

On a weekend,

Let's sit around.

Layer by layer.

Let's wear this off.

When we've

Enough memories

To fuel 

A campfire.

Rather than

Letting our

Bare souls,

Forget each other

Out of cold

Indifference.

My love..

Let's hate.

Let's fight.

Let's get dirty..

And kiss a

Good bye..

On a

Warm note.

A wait. A hope.

Waiting for you.

It's been so long.

That,

All the perception

Is gone and

Torn bits of what

You felt like 

Remains.

I try to recall

Your name but

I can't. And

Each time I fail,

I come up with

New ones. 

Sometimes,

Starts with D

And ends with I.

Or it lingers 

Between S and A.

I don't know. 

Doesn't matter

Matter I guess.

Like,

A lazy evening.

A mellow sunrise.

A fading melody,

A fleeting cloud.

I remember you,

Like I've forgotten

You forever.

I feel you like,

A steady peck

On my neck. 

Slow brush on

My hair.

A comforting

Caress and

Maybe lots of

Hugs.

And sometimes,

It feels like

You aren't really 

Gone.

Lurking secretly,

You're there always.

But I pass that

Thought.

There's a pleasure

In giving you 

Names.

Wrapping you in

Metaphors.

Slice you, bite you,

And totally savour

Every side of you.

It's like the 

Transience has

Faded and you've

Become an 

Immortal idea.

A fantasy.

A memory.

A worthy wait.

Reflective Guilt

Stood in front

Of a mirror.

Didn't like 

What I saw.

Put on a smile.

Screamed, 

And cried.

Wore colours,

And a new hat.

Blood throbbed

The same.

Moments passed

In vain.

Mundane is

My thing.

Pretnse stuck

Like side wings.

To start over.

I used an eraser

To rub off my 

Story written in pen.

Mistakes undone.

Mirrors stare,

For the story

That's gone.

For the papers

I have torn.

Still Moments

The day has faded into the dusk. Bit of drizzle has absolved the sweaty-sticky disgust of the summer. 

The rubble in the backyard is moist and half burnt. The vent off smoke has scented the freshness around. Smells like childhood.

The crickets chirp. Through the haze, birds flutter. A half-read story from the past crosses my mind. I just smile and let it go.

Life's still. Nothing to look out for or to be bothered about. I just sit. Observe. Smell and feel the evening. Life in slow motion.

Something strikes me. An overused couplet of Rumi. I can't help but relate to it. Maybe this is what he meant when he said about that place beyond right and wrong.

Then I hold on. Pass that thought and come back to blankness. To feel. To smell and to just breath away the moments. 

RomCom

Good looking girl,

With a sad face.

Can hook you

To a song.

Her dirty mind,

And sharp eyes.

Can butcher 

Your heart.

Sleep free,

Euphoric nights.

Long lost

Obvious days.

You'll be infected

With that smile.

Life'll seem to be

Defined in her arms.

Muse with 

Dim-lights.

Rom-coms and

Movie nights.

Cuddles, 

Hangovers,

Long drives and

Lazy walks.

Oops. Reality 

Off the track,

Again.

Lemme end this.

Story. Too ideal 

For life.

Emptiness

A word sown 

Has failed to

Grow into a 

Sentence.

A poem,

Full of bloom,

Been grounded

By despair.

Clear skies are

Pain.

Nimbus laden,

A bland hope.

For a craving 

To go athirst-

The water

You served,

Has re-enforced

This emptiness.

Hurt

Poems written

In the night.

Are dead by dawn.

And the ride on

Unicorn is a

Myth again.

For a moment

She was there..

Then gone.

Itching flashbacks.

Her traces 

Everywhere.

Reality and utopia

Intertwined.

Hope and despair-

All hurt the same.

 

I'm the Bitch

One day..

I'll be lonely enough.

All my insecurities

Will rush.

The summer heat

Will eat my sleep.

And my thoughts

Will screech helplessly.

Maybe then 

I'll remember you.

To be saved,

Probably, I'll call you.

But then, I realize

You'd be far away.

The way I'd pushed,

You're long gone. 

I'll try to swallow,

Everything again.

Karma isn't a bitch,

But you know who is.

I know who is.

Killed Poetry. Poet died.

Last night. 

Maybe be before that. 

My poetry died. 

Or did I kill her? 

I don't know. 

I don't care much now.

She choked on me 

Or I gagged her. 

What can I say?

I couldn't stand her. 

She couldn't stand me. 

Asphyxiation I guess.

Thoughts in head 

Found no words. 

Emotions didn't flow 

Blood turned thick. 

Skin, too smothering

And lapse of purpose.

A good kind of 

Claustrophobia? 

Possible. Yeah.

Died or killed? 

Doesn't matter. 

She's just not there.

Turned to dust,

Ashes or memories?

Who knows.

Then the poet?

You may ask.

I guess..just.. 

Flesh and bones.

He shouldn't matter. 

Romance

As the wintry night 

Sets in and the 

Cold seeps in,

To Invade our warmth.

We'll get naked and 

Wear each other,

My love.

Under the refuge

Of love and

Longing of lust.

Let's explore

The universe that

Glows between the

Friction of our skin.

Moving on

The song on loop

Can't hurt me.

A stale thought,

Doesn't dare to

Become a poem.

Evenings affect

Me no more, nor

The long nights

That brooded

Over my sleep.

Ain't no taker of

Melancholia.

Pain is just a 

Perception.

Feelings, a pinch

Of euphoria.

Stark reality has

Take over me.

Looks like, 

Everything fits in 

A bracket now.

Black and white.

Right and wrong. 

And to hell with

What's in-between. 

The Forgotten

On a lonely road
Of bland hopes.
I have taken a job
Of painting the
Forgotten memories.

Well, what can I say.
Hardly, there are
Bright colours.
No dark strokes or
Embellished illustrations.

Shades, Shadows.
Pale colors.
Broken moons.
Fading shines.
And some
Dying stars and
Helpless storms.

Some appreciate
The painting.
Some just make
A smirky face.
Some look for
My comments,

And all I can say is-
I’m a forgotten too.
Remember me.

Purposeless

Scars don't itch.

No fresh wounds 

To lookout for.

Looks like I've 

Forgotten it all.

I'm all healed and

Life's never been

This purposeless. 

I would rather be a Sad Song

When you left me. After that evening. I've wasted myself on god knows how many sad songs. And the unceremonious goodbye butchered days that came after.

It's funny how the dusk I loved was eaten away by the dark. And there wasn't a single reason left to conjure some light. Cool breeze doesn't matter. Rain is a stab wound now.

I deleted the old playlist you know. The Linkin Park, Breaking Benjamin, and Radiohead are all gone. Even I've started writing inspirations poems. No fun there though.  

But yeah, this war I've waged on myself is gonna end soon. All these wounds will heal and I'll endure all this pain to rejuvenate my rage.

A new Radiohead album is around the corner soon and will pen down a poem that flies off my mind. 

Till then, this is me. With a mask and a pretentious playlist.

Thank you tea

It's lockdown and you're home. No worries. No hurry. Everything is just slow and lazy. Life's so cozy that the worst thing that can happen to you is a bad cup of tea.

You just have a tight lunch. You give your life to the couch. There's sweat and heat, just like the shade of sadness in your life. Yet a happy nap conquers the world for you.

Then it rains in the evening. Your drowsy senses are elated and looks like there's nothing more to ask from life. And then your mom brings you a cup of tea.

You take a sip and it's just perfect. You breath out few moments like time's your slave. Then you silently thank Chinese for finding tea. Maybe for Corona too. 

Claustrophobia

An year has passed

Without the rains.

And to these stray

Thoughts of mine-

I Haven't been able to 

Find any words.

Voicelessly smothered,

I feel entrapped.

Dr. Freud, is this 

Claustrophobia? 

Pain

Sometimes,

Wanna hurt myself.

Feel the pain,

For the sake of it.

It's like,

Too much of light.

And all you want is

Some gloom 

For a hide out. 

Ignoring

The text I've sent her

Has been marked blue.

It's been quite a while,

I don't think she has 

Gone to the loo...

The Emojis in the chats

Have been fading too.

Clearly she's ignoring.

I don't know what to do. 

You must be a fool to think

She's busy these days.

Bro! It's all about priorities.

Says my friend Poo.

I keep wondering,

About the shit like

To be or not be. And if

Thats how fate wants to woe,

I'll accept that too.

Again!

A mundane thought

Has stretched itself

Into a poem.

A part of me has

Grown wings and

Has set itself aflight.

To settle myself

With a sad song.

The clock has reset.

And 

She's all over.

Again! 

Shadows

I feel exposed

In the light.

Threatened by

The dark.

So I lurk in

The shade,

Cast by the

Moonlight. 

Rhythmic Lust

Wrap me in 

Your legs,

Clasp me in 

Your thighs.

Layer by layer 

Conquer me and

Cut me loose 

In your wildness.

Overpower me

With your

Rhythmic lust.

And make me feel-

Insignificant. 

Hopelessness

I'm blinded

By the light,

That's no boon. 

And 

The darkness

I was seeking,

Has been 

Plundered

By the moon.

Our Insignificance

The stars burst.

Oceans dry.

Mighty demons

Can die and 

Even the gods are

Forgotten.

Oblivious is time.

And here we're

With the pomp

Of our significance. 

Lonely Together

What will 

We do?

When,

Out of words,

Out of signs.

When,

Silence pokes

Around and

Awkwardness

Hang upon?

What will we do,

When,

Lonely together.

Bored and bald. 

Transient Love

Her face,

Melts away,

Like she was

A dream from

Last night.

Can love only

Be something

That's permanent

And long?

The transience

Isn't supposed

To hold enough 

Of heart?

Fighting Oneself

I've stopped

Fighting others.

It's fun to 

Crawl down

My throat and

Poke the intestine.

Just last night,

I had a fight

With my shadow. 

How does it matter

If the other won?

I didn't lose,

And I feel better

Even more.

Tell Me

Tell me,

Do you still

Feed on-

Slashed hearts,

Chopped smiles

And worn out

Lives?

Tell me,

I've all those.

My love,

I am all those. 

Horizon

Waiting,

I've smoked time,

Like, it's a 

Petty cigarette. 

As all I

Wanted was 

A ride back

Home with you.

But now,

It looks like,

The home is

Overrated.

I'm addicted

To the idea that

You're that 

Boundless horizon

In the west.

Lonely Moon

The Moon is 

Lonely too.

He confessed,

The other night.

Earth has 

Engaged the sun.

The stars are 

Far away and-

The girls who

Fantasized him 

Are taken away

By the boys. 

Rage of Your Eyes

In the clasp of
Your hands,
I've seen your
Dripping love,
That goes down
Like freshly
Scored weed.

The enigmatic
Smile, your
Passionate blush.
Man! you're,
Such a rush.

But, God!
That rage!
That rage locked
In your eyes-

My ground
Breaks,
Veins bulge.
The dread
It spreads,
Cries havoc.

I'm sure,
One day, it can-

Obliterate moons.
Subsume stars,
Eat away light
And feed
This universe,
A bondage of
Dark.

Burn

Let's burn the

Music.

Let's burn the

Songs.

If that's what

It takes to love.

Let's burn 

Each other and

Set the world

On fire. 

Sarcastic World

They said,

The world is beautiful.

So I removed 

My goggles.

The roses were

Red.

The violets were

Blue.

And the rest was

Sarcastic too.

Stranger

When the night

Was set and 

The cold seeped in.

The lonely me

Fluttered eyes and 

The ceiling held me.

A stranger 

Talked to me.

He was like me.

He was me. 

Dream

Everyday,

I Dream about you.

And after

Every dream,

I feel closer to you.

And how I wish,

How I wish...

The day 

I feel closest,

Be a wide awake

Reality. 

Awe

I was so hooked to

The mundane,

The mediocre and

The obvious. That..

Anything just above 

Ordinary would have

Held me in surprise.

And you were a 

Rain laden cloud

Around my dry land.

An yearning had to 

Come up. Poetry

Had to take birth.

And it did. 

It Shouldn't

Today the sun has

Come up in the west.

Someone has 

Intoxicated the air 

And the peeps are

High on weed and

On top of the world.

Here, 

I roll on my couch,

Complaining about

The heat, choking

On mediocre poetry and 

Hating myself more.

Tomorrow all the same,

He'll set in the west.

Peeps dry and dumb

And world yellow again.

Same couch,

Same poems and with 

Same kind of hate,

I conduct myself here.

The peeps, the world 

Mean nothing to me.

In fact. It shouldn't.

Tonight

Turn off the lights.

Let's duel with 

Our breaths tonight.

I wanna break all

Boundaries and

Let my vulnerability,

Choke between your

Thighs tonight.

My tongue has 

Spoken enough and 

My fingers have 

Written enough.

Let me taste you.

The touch of your skin,

Let it cleanse my 

Soul tonight.

I want our lips to

Vent fire and

Incinerate all my

Insecurities.

In your curves and 

Crevices I want 

To be consumed

And be broke tonight.

Tonight my love,

I'm not afraid of

These wounds or

The glow of my scars.

However teary,

However bloody,

I'll just surrender.

I wanna be lost in,

Your bosom tonight.

Elections

Lefts blamed the right,

Rights blamed the rest.

Those in the middle

Were no different.

Fake promises were 

Made.

Rich dreams were 

Shown.

The hungry toiled

In the fields and

Women waited for

Permission to breath.

The Bigots' 

Spread hate and 

The woke remained

Indifferent.

Some demanded 

Crores, but

Most were bought

With hundreds.

While centuries long

Movement of suffrage,

Died like it was

Really a bad joke.

Between the votes

Those were cast and

Castes that were voted.

The Game of Democracy 

Was successfully lost.

Childhood

When laughing was 

Actually laughing

And weeping was

Really weeping. 

Remember the days when

Everything was simple?

Hate was just a day 

Of not talking and 

Friendship,

A toffee away.

Unmasked smiles,

Un-adulterated tears.

The moon wasn't just

A celestial rock and

Granny had taken refuge 

In the brightest star.

Will Remember You

On a summer night,

When my lonesome heart

Will be filled and heavy.

And when there will be 

Too many stray thoughts 

To just ignore and bury.

I'll remember you...

I will remember you..

Like the early monsoon rain.

Departure

We shouldn't have 

Left each olike this.

Your bare smile

Could have been

Bit more wild and 

Our parting eyes

Bit more lit.

I wish the journey

Was not this short.

And the story that 

Was brewing, 

A bit more long.

There were things

Yet to be found.

Roads to be taken,

And few verses 

Penned down together.

But departures are 

Supposed to be 

Like this I guess.

A poker face,

Smirk in the eyes,

An adrift yearning,

And a disguised

Indifference.

Despair

For about a moment,

It felt like someone

Gave us those

Two little feathery things.

One to the left and 

One, to the right.

I was happy and 

You were too, I guess.

Then we dreamt of

Nothing less than the skies.

The long nights,

Stars in the day and

Moony conversations.

It was like we travelled 

Beyond fate and 

Challenged the obvious.

And all of a sudden,

Looked like, it was over.

A subtle force made us

Forget how to flap.

First the hope and

Then a disability.

What a despair.

She, Me and My Will

Sometimes, I'm 

As light as a feather 

And all I wish is, 

The wind from east 

To just blow me away.

Also, there are 

Other times-

Days too long

To pass by.

The moon too lazy 

To come up. 

And I'm all assed up

Like a big rock.

Just to put myself

To test, against-

The mighty forces. 

Then there's she,

To keep my feathery

Heart grounded.

And the resolute 

Mind afloat.

Dreaming

Till,

A poem from 

Distant lands,

A story from

Inner depths and 

A melody from 

I don't know where-

Finds me..

I've to 

Keep breathing. 

Keep living. 

Disguise

She thinks I'm a 

Thick skinned perv.

Two inch thick fat 

Under my dermis with 

An inch of apathy.

But I'm sensitive,

You know.

A tiny needle can 

Easily puncture me.

Few sharp words 

Can tear apart.

And all the same,

A sign from her

Can melt me down.

But you see,

A warm disguise 

Is good sometimes.

Needles, words 

And smiles

Can be really cold.

Shadows

The light has conspired 

With the darkness.

The day has been hijacked,

Nignt, been enchained.

The shadows of betrayal

Around. 

What's dream, what's a

Reality. I don't know.

It's like all the hate is gone.

All the love ripped apart.

And all I think I know is the 

Meaning the word apathy.

Ma Mind

My mind ponders 

Over things.

Climbs mountains,

Dives into the seas.

Grows wings sometimes, 

And then, knowingly

Falls right into traps,

To strangulate itself.

Finds quantum theories 

On empty walls. 

Also, slaps a void 

Onto purpose of my life.

Shows dreams, 

Builds castles and then

 Shatters them down,

Just to show that

I've a life. 

Momentary Refuge

The night welcomes me

With empty songs.

Laden with stooping thoughts,

Caught off guard,

I just gaze at the not so

Colorful past and a

Not so promising future.

Looks like breathing is

My only purpose.

I want to believe it.

Right now, only that 

seems to make sense.

And that's how I've taken 

A refuge in this moment.

Her Approval

A story I was 

Brewing for you,

Is hot and ready.

I suppose it's not

Overcooked or spicy.

And the salt is right.

And I hope you like it, 

With closed eyes and

A pretentious sigh.

Do it, even if you

Don't like the taste.

I'd love the expression.

And how about a

Poem as dessert? 

Or rather some

Witty sarcasm?

Wishful Dream

I wish,

The day 

Were my bed,

Night, 

A blanket.

Life, 

A blissful sleep.

And you,

A wishful dream. 

Unread Poem

Adrift thoughts 

Were surrounded.

Beat, bullied, tied up. 

Locked them up in words.

With an ink-thirst spear,

Imprisoned on a sheet.

They,

Sougth some attention.

Over and again. Distraught,

Cried for little help.

And finally, when a lover's

Eyes caught them.

Had them linger on lips.

Redeemed they were.

Freedom of Speech

These words
Crawling under
My skin.

Before they burst
Open my veins
And write a revolution.

Give me my pen.

Brain Harvest

Lingering words,
Unsettled thoughts.

Incomplete lines and
A cut loose desire.

Off my cloudy mind
It just might rain.

Time to harvest some
Words into a verses.

Vibgyor

Borrowed the green

From the trees.

The blue from the sky.

Red from myself

And some yellow

From the flowers.

Orange was reserved.

The violet was blue.

Didn't know what’s

A Indigo hue.

My painting was 

A personified ruin.

Yet, she accepted it,

Her love is pure.

Rainbow wasn’t just

In the palette.

It was in her eyes too.

Some realizations

Are bit late,

Even for the sky

And the moon.

Light Year

I've waited for years
And just an
Hour has passed.

You're gone
For a second
And this yearning-

This yearning seems
Like its
Three-lakh-kilometers
Long.

Singer of Your Song

One day it'll rain. So bad that
You'll get drenched and
Everything will be washed away.

All the pain and melancholia
Down the drain. Dark corners of
The mind cleansed with colors.

Done and dusted thoughts will be
Given wings and the gloomy face
Will be etched with a smile.

The dead insides will be stabbed
With life and you'll see a new
Horizon like a fool with no plan.

And then that person in the
Mirror will write you a song and
You'll be a singer of your own song.

Ice and Fire

She's a dew-drop
Wrapped in
Raw innocence.

I am a wild-fire,
Contained in
Crude arrogance.

Yet, we fell-

For the calm she
Felt around me.
She says.

For the storm
I saw in you.
I smile.

Spontaneity

Sometimes
It's too much.

Legs given up,
Mind suspended.
Ache in the heart.
And crazy intestine.

Shutting your own-self
From yourself.
You just lie dead
On your empty mind.

Yet, a thought,
Pokes out of
Your rigid walls.
Fires-up itself,
Takes a ride with
The crazy wind.

Soaks in night,
Grows wings to fly high.
Basks in the starlight
And when it's back-

Walls down,
Infected with a verse,
You're all filled up.

Really!
Too much for a day.

Warmth

Let me hold you
And show
How love is felt.

How the warmth
Of my thoughts
Down your creases..

Can make you melt.

Fine Like Wine

Shall wrap your
Ailing heart and plant
Love that's wild.

Will water it with
Fire and nurse
It like a child.

Then, together
We'll grow old...
Fine like wine.

Not Lonely

Heart shattered.
Mind choked.
To be sad,
Reasons,
Thousand more.

With the
Gloom around.
Learn to live alone.
To be happy,
You'll need

Light no more.

Just be

Wanna drink
Your lips
And be drown 
In your bosom.

Backpacking
Across Europe
And all is cool.

But for now,
Just wanna
Take a refuge
In you and wait
For the moon.

The Poem I Am

An unfinished poem
Is a hungry,
Restless beast,
On a hunting spree,
For right words.

The finished one
Is a calm
Composed bird.
The one that makes
Heart as light as
A humble feather.

I wonder if I am
Either. Neither.
Or both.

Too Elegant

I dreamed of
A moon who
Dreamt of you.

And like
The same,
Stars would do.

You're a
Dream within
A dream.

A sweet surprise
Beneath layers
Of reality.

Too elegant
To be true.

It's okay

It's okay to be
Little confused
And little lost.

What will you do
With all that clarity
And straight intent?

Give up tea and
Advise others how
Sugar is a poison?

Womb to Tomb

Somewhere there is
A wide open grave,
Awaiting for us

And the labyrinth
We're pushed into..

One way or other,
Will lead us there.

Dawn, through dusk,
Has to end up
In the dark.

The Play

Play is on.

Dreams are
Being shown.
Promises,
Being made.

Old wounds,
Getting healed,
And some
In making.

For what it's
Worth, I think,
Loving and
Unloving is

An Inevitability.
One has to,
Breath out
To breath in.

Dream within a Dream

Along the mountains,
Beside a lake.
Where sun is mellow
And trees are free.
The moon is meek
And grass, still green.

We'll hitchhike there
With the wind and
Peg a tent of our desires.

You bake some music,
I'll cook some lyrics.
We'll feed them birds
The songs of our muse.

And when the starlight
Spreads to call it a day.
We'll kiss each other
To sleep, to wake up
In another dream.

Suspended Animation

Opening the lock, Mithali rushed in her room. She didn't look happy. Keeping her bag aside, she just threw herself on her bed. While her lonely mind traveled as far as it could, the stare of her eyes stopped at the ceiling. The thoughts of the future past intertwined, a drop of tear rolled down. She felt drained and dead over the thoughts of her setbacks. 

Her father, mother, and two younger sisters crossed her mind. She felt the age-old faint cut marks on her wrists and a kind of insecurity gripped her. The silence in the room was sinking in her and she restlessly eyed around her room. Her conscious suspended, she wasn't observant. The old photos on the wall, books, and pen on the table were as dead as her. Even the lizard on the ceiling looked lifeless and fear of which didn't seem to matter now. 

The curtains across the window held her attention for a while. The purple flowers running through the intricate vines looked beautiful. She thought the patters are as messed up as her life. As the thoughts around the curtain were picking up, her gaze stopped at the ceiling fan. She found it cryptic. Can I put my hands into the blades and make it stop, she thought. What if I put my head? Will it chop me off? Myriads of thoughts.

She even thought about suspending herself from there. Will it bear my weight? What if it falls down when I hang myself. Will the curtain be a good grip around my neck? Can it choke me? Can I knot it tight enough to hold my weight? And as the thoughts agitated in her mind, a resultant push from within made her walk to the window. She unhooked the curtain and took it off. She twisted and rolled it and tried to knot it. Took a couple of attempts to make a firm knot but when she did, she put that around her neck.

From that point of this inanimate state, with the death around her neck, she stared at her life that seemed to rotate with the fan. She was in the flow of the moment and the phone rang. The sound of it was like a slap on her face. She had come to her senses and it was Sid, her best friend on the other side. He said hello...but her response got shrunk in her throat and all she could do was sob. The phone slipped from the hand and she just sat on the floor gasping and crying all teary. 

Sid kept on saying, hello Mithu...what happened...Mithu.. which just faded away with the rattle of the fan.

K for Kalavathi

Late February or early March of 2005, I suppose. Ninga came to my bench and stood to extend his left hand. He said, "carve a K". There was a reason he had come to me. And I knew exactly what he wanted. I just took out my brand new radium cutter and without thinking, gave three cuts above his wrist. The 'K' bled red, which turned me weary. I begged him to hide it and not to tell anyone about my craftsmanship. He assured to keep the secret with a bond of mother promise.

While I sat comfortably upon the bond of his mother promise, Saturn was making his place strong through the periods. Right when he decided to act, Sudha madam entered the class. And when she started to check homework and when it was Ninga's turn. He went to her table poking his full-fledged entirety. And the obvious happened.

For a teacher who's day job was a hardcore investigation, the capital K was an easy feast. And she had to feed on the entire food chain which contained me the end. Upon asking, what's K? He told madam that it's his sister's name, Kalavathi. And this nigga didn't even make an attempt to dodge my name. He just gave it away. One thing I realized that day that only JP took mother promises seriously.

The moment Ninga gave away my name, there was a serious interrogation. First by Sudha madam and then art sir, whose name will eat a lot of my space here. He seized my brand new blade and he was damn serious because he was close to Ninga's parents. Let me tell you how serious he was. He said the blade should be taken to a lab of a department in the university. Then test I for contamination. He used some complex names. It took years for me to realize that he was talking about the Criminology department of Karnataka University for forensic tests.

The case though ended up in the principal's chamber that wasn't the end. He just asked us to have our parents talk to him on parents day. Then I had some not so serious talk with Ninga with a word of advice. Told him to hide it like me by wearing a full-sleeve sweater. 

Next day, seems Bharati madam was interested in taking a look at the specimen. After assembly, while I paced towards the classroom, Sudha madam called me with the intention to summon Ninga. Before that could happen, Bharati madam took me for Ninga and pulled up the left sleeve of my sweater. Five letters carved above my wrist. This craftwork, of which Ninga was the first and last customer, gave Sudha madam a heart attack. And then I don't know why she didn't make a ruckus out of it. Maybe because it was a boy's name. And don't judge me, I'm straight.

Fast forward 2011 September when we had become alumni of the school. Bunch of us went to school to cherish it's the glory. While we sat in Rama Madam's house talking and laughing about things, at a moment there was silence. To break the awkwardness madam suddenly asked Ninga, How's Kalavathi? 

Roof shattering laughter and for Ninga, what a face-palm.

Butterfly Effect

The sky coughed
A roar.
Frightened clouds
Cried rains.
And the plants
Giggled a bloom.

The birds to
Sing a joyous song,
The son of a man
Surprised himself
With a poem.

Love

Just like that
You fall for
Someone.

And everything is
A walk on water.
Sail through the wind.

The world is defined
In music and you're
A poem in making.

Lost

Molten by
Her caress.
Consumed in
Her arms.
I'm lost.

Not able to
Find myself.
Maybe I
Don't want to.

I like this.
It hits right.
This feeling
Is Infinite.

Tourists

Some people
Are just tourists.
They come up,
From, somewhere far

Some moments,
Photographs.
Free rides,
Some hitchhike 
With your thoughts.

And before
Something real
Can happen,
Trashing the place.
They're long gone.

Make Me Feel

Bring a chisel and
Stab my frozen heart.
Poke it in the eye, or
Maybe pull out my intestine.

I'm numb.
Can't feel a thing.

Wanna tear it out,
And cry it all away.
Can you break me out
And make me feel?