Sleepwalk?

I felt.
I walked
to door.
I opened.
I froze.
The smile
gently rose.
and stuck on my lips.
"may you smile back!"
that's it.

-ides-

I feel cold,
I see you walk on toe-tip,
faint whispers from frail lips.
and I see the way you hide,
dissolving somewhere inside.

I see you in blur
fusing with others.
pushed by the chaos
to a deeper, darker side .

and you sway
you smile, deride.
I am in misery,
I am lost in a tide.

and you are flowing
in the circles of white
locking my sight,
with your maudlin eyes.

thoughtless, I hope to move
but my ankles are tied.
You are blooming in full glow
as I chafe, stuck in ides.

I am so afraid
I am so concerned about myself
that I may lose, that I may need help.
that you may no longer be there
tired of the wait
tired of me being so late.
tired, just tired.
and then you will walk away.

and you did walk away.

Ciao!

Deleting Browsing history

Again,
I looked into your pale eyes
and your rusted words.
I remembered, relived
the juvenile anxiety,
felt the lost ecstasy, the pain,
the loss.

And this time,
I laughed
at my mistakes.
there were no fine strokes,
only faint, broad pictures,
living in the corner of my memory.

And I know I misunderstood
so much so many times,
I mistook so many signals.
I lost so many battles.
but still I don't feel wounded.
I am not hurt.
And that is my Win.

So,
I got up and lit up a fire.
and gently put, whats left,
over this gentle pyre.

So Long!

Spring and after effects.

Well I,
twitched and twirled
whirled and swirled
had a laugh
had some fun.

For once I,
didn't thought
what is what
drink or drought
stopped to learn

And I freed myself
from all the worries
and
all mordant thoughts
all the sob stories

and then,
I pulled myself out of harm
and then,
I scurried to your arms.

B-Bye

But where was I,

When the spring blew whistles

Over the swaying trees?

And where was I,

When golden foliage was getting

Crushed Beneath novelty’s feet?

Where was I, then?

Where were you?

Ah! Listening to birds’ ephemeral songs,

We strolled sans care on the ageing grass,

Deeming in that it will last.

You flipped your creed.

You were there, I see.

But where was I, then?

May be I was outside your glass palace,

When you were blowing those mournful sighs,

Glancing over shoulder, to your wasteful dreams.

Forgetting a part of that waste was “I”.

Trespassing your memory kaleidoscope,

My face must have surfaced and then eloped.

As you jittered inside your glasshouse,

I saw you.

Yes, I was then, there.

And I am still, here

Outside your house of glass,

Among the insignia of past.

I see you,

You have emotions still waving

As you laughed, you smiled

And then you cried.

You are still living,

I am watching you numb,

I have already died.

************************

Radiohead plays cold and etc.

Sigh! Lovely things buried inside.
his voice, it is mixing with music.
guitar lures me too deep.
Closed eyes smile, weep.

Voice is gold plated
replete with sense
tied to the pain
glaring vague lens.

The music flows,
then spin, spin around him.
tying knots to his hand.
water rising up the knee.

he breathes his songs in
his stainless steel lungs, they burn.
he laughs- "who cares what to win".
his stainless steel lungs - dry, done.

And the film rolls
credits in bold.
A head with a radio
as music play cold.

But I am listening still.

Poet's Note : Currently listening to Radiohead music... B-E-A-UTIFUL!

Oblique...for it is too late (or too early)

As I grow old
I become less mystic to myself.
My shine is lost.
I am getting engulfed in whirlpool
spitted out of dream.

And I can see you
swirling in,
laughing
or smiling.
It is too fast, hard to tell difference.

But do I know you?

I am not irritated.
For I don't want more than much.
I am singing a song maybe
but hell, the same song, a lot of people have sung.

But what if I hum a different tune.
what if it is the one which only I hum.
or beat the drum like ...dum da dum dum.
whats the difference, if I am one of thousands or alone.
whether I stand in the front or the last one in the queue.
Among many or enchanting few.

Is it a start or the dying end.
Tell tell me dear friend.

For look at this huge land
I need to cover this.
But only till the sun shine.
And I slept when it was dark.
I dint see the sun rise.
and now the sun is red.

tell, have I slept too much
or too less?
Tell me have the battle begun?

For I can see only a red sun.
For all I can see is a red sun.

May be it's time. I am done.
May be it's time. should I run?

Maybe it's time.
maybe.....

Longings and Belongings....

It’s been time.

Leaves have fallen by
as autumn strikes.
Dry winds and dry sky;
Dry skin and dry eyes;

left behind.

I see through the clocks,
And they turn and turn.
But I have been tied
unable to run.

As I remember you,
and your pearl smile.
your crayoned lips,
your penciled eyes.

and those pebbles thrown over the lake,
the counts of the bounces they did take.

And I think of
your creamy fingertips,
your enchanting whims.
your swing,
over the tyre tied to tree,
those closing eyes,
as oscillations increase.

And I hope still you stop
and turn around,
to a hunch of my
footsteps’ sound.

And I hope,
Still you dance
those steps I taught.
Yeah, I hope,
still you dance
to the tunes of yore.

So, if I left my crystal heart
under your fluffy stole;
and you don’t notice and I don’t recall
then sorry, now I can’t stop
let it fall.

Let it break,
It’s fine.
Belongings undone.
It’s been time.

Longings-
Still have me trapped.
To you, I am still wrapped.

With time I have found the knot,
holding it but still lost in thought.

I know with single pull,
I will unwrap, unhook.
Still my heart waits,
with that last, lamenting look.

Rabbit Burrow

A man of polystyrene,
a decorative accessory,
fated, snoozing alarm
is he but not me.

Smiling twisted scotch tape
with a suspended animated gape
a gut feeling dropped, drained
is he but not me.

And he can never grow out of my name,
my job, my wallet, my nod, my state.
What a shame! What a shame!

He darts agony at them,
sips quiet wasteful tears,
sounds as last note of a requiem,
waving ship, he steers, he steers.

And he laughs!
handshakes, jokes, tricks
Alas! he laughs.

He jerks in a fit,
breath of angst.
No humour. No wit.
Still he laughs.
Still they laugh.
Alas!!

lets scratch the walls
of my brains now
as he is asleep under the lullaby of world
shove the earth. damn! plough, plough.
I had buried myself down there few years back.
I have come back for myself now.

Scratch! Scratch! Scratch! Scratch!


The above piece is all about discovering the real self which we have left behind in pursuing something that we think we need to have. This is about the people who realize that they have become a "He" and lost an "I" buried down under a burrow.

Ultrasound

So, you think you know it all
you can sieve right from wrong.

So, you think you can tell
where lies beauty and where is hell.

So, you think you are so smart
up your sleeves all wining cards.

so, I should let you decide,
which path I should ride.

and in your beamishing voice, you say
you will hide me secure, never let me astray.

explain me all the drifts of game
keep me away from the hurting flame.

but sorry, sorry I can't understand
your sweet music is just a blaring band

and sorry, I can't hear you aloud
Just stop talking in this ultrasound.

My mistakes, let them be my own mistakes
let me lose my share before something I take.

Let me bruise, skin my belief while alive.
let me wither, shouting at top of my voice.

Let me play with my own hand of cards.
let me lose, let me be distraught.

I just don't want to win, I want to be proud.
So stop babbling, stop talking in this ultrasound.

Sunglasses

What was there to see?
It was all cliched
It was all predictable
It was cleanly ordered
and was fairly labelled

The mob had all the known gestures
the greetings were rehearsed the night before
the weather turned out damp and grey
as good as the forecast had foretold

Disinterested people weren't interesting
so I din't push my efforts in vain
I concealed myself into darker sights
I didn't even try to feign

I strolled amongst us for a while
sticking along a polite smile
and then after a while
I slipped inside to hide.

A brazen mockery of weak!!!

In the twist of fate,
The weak die; the weak wail;

They crawl on their knees,
They blame the gods.
They genuflect to the greats,
and offer a servile nod.

They cry their tears,
And mitigate their selves.
They are Agony of misery,
Misfortune of whelps.

They cry for morals,
and the equality of beings.
and decry the flight
of a hero with wings.

They live in the world,
foregone and unseen,
with their trivial wants,
but unending needs.

They always crib
with smile on their face.
won't leave any footprints,
no trace, except their graves.

They journey their wasteful life
through the much trodden path.
befool their guilt and aver,
"these landmarks, everyone pass."

That it is the way of life
to bend and to retreat.
To face the life bare self
can only be a moron's dream.

Oh! but the mighty,
he laughs at destiny's call.
he merely tweaks his presence
and the mountains fall.

He bends the laws,
makes gravity fly.
Lives like an Immortal,
and let mortals die.

Objective Intellect

There were dunes,
and there were times.
There was a whistle,
and an uncanny rhyme.

and I was dwarfed,
sometimes by my thoughts,
my shines, my bloats
and my naked little footsteps.
I was belittled, I was dwarfed,
manytimes by my dreams
my carings, my screams,
and my unhindered desires.


The seasons went meaningless,
The scenery changed so fast,
the difference was left to rest.
and I was left meaningless.

The multicolored throng
tightened close,
looking at horizon,
cried out the prose:

"What you want changed?"
"What you would have?,lad"
"How it would have been,
if it wasn't to be this?"
"Would any changing in past
will lead you to your wish?"

and I know, they have me caught
No excuses or remorse can be bought
and with dwindling self
I admit with a shaking voice,
"Nothing better; Nothing worse"
and they say in unison
"Then just REST!! REST!! REST!!"

The healing takes a while...!!!

The black sky with heavy groan
was up, up above my head,
and everyday the same grunts,
same howling from the deads.

the past was present
and was eating the life away
I lived the nights awake
and dreamt away the wasteful days

and I hoped
the healing must
take some time.
I wished
the healing may
take a while.

and Everything was gone
Everything was whooshing past
just a moment was eternity
and still the time didn't last.

I was thrown away,
put away in exile
by the pretty-pretty smile
I was dashed,
I was dazed
by those eye's maze.
and I was left alone for a while
by the pretty pretty smile.

and I hoped,
the healing must
take some time.
I wished
the healing may
take a while

and when it felt
the darkness is day
life is unbaked,
soaking bricks of clay.
I found you

and the sunshine herald
clouds purged n' disengaged
and I found you burried
under my rage.

and the sun shines now
You take my hand and smile
we can dance again to the tune
dear! we can dance again, aye!!

and I now know,
the healing takes a while
the healing takes some time.

Banal bystander

Kya kare Zindagi, isko hum jo mile,
Iski jaan khaa gaye, raat din ke gile.

The days are nowadays like the electric poles next to railway tracks. And my life, the train, is whooshing past so speedily that I am unable to detect any noticeable differences among the poles....all feel bloody same.

How I Grow !!

Somebody asked” How you grow?”
What to answer? I don’t know.

How I grow up?
How I live my life everyday?
I sit for a while;
And then walk up my way.

The other day I saw a boy on the street;
His body was naked; so were his feet.
His eyes were blank; holding more darkness than the night sky.
Begging for a life; a life where everyday he don’t have to die.

I felt no pain;
No feeling of shame.

At night, I saw in a dark lane,
There were cries for help, somebody was being slain.
I felt no anger neither an urge to retort.
Oh! What can I do? In my whole life I have never fought.

Then I went to bed and have a sound sleep.
I made no commitments, no promises that I have to keep.

In this way I grow; with my body and with my brains.
Unaffected by the plight of poor and cries of pain.

That is the way I grow;
I don’t steal, I don’t borrow.
But neither do I give;
And no! I don’t live.

I feel no pain, no sorrow;
Look through my eyes; deep inside I am hollow.




The reality that has always haunted my psyche. Growing up with brains and body but how much we grow to help and to help whom? Who deserve the help? what's the criterion?

This piece, I wrote at around 3a.m. A guy in a movie said "Look inside my eyes , I am hollow"... that rang through my intellect. isnt that what I am growing into....someone too hollow to fill any space.