Whispers till Eternity

Whisper in my ears

the anthem of love,

For today

I feel not welcoming

The fear of

Snapping the thread yet again.

Could we ever

Imagine that

whimsically together

The bond would only grow mature!

"Insane are those who are

In love

And more so are them

Who realize what they are into"

You only had told me.

Today

As I can emote so,

An epic of love won't do,

A monument would only exaggerate.

Proclamation will defy the magic of silence.

So,

Being a paraplegic

Who played with the icicles

Knowing winter

isn't going to Last long,

I want to build

you and me

A shade of love

And this time..

Pray no rains..

The Sea Inside

Facing the sea that speaks silence,you and me stand close,

counting these waves and inscribing our names on the wet sand.

Vulnerability is something that allures one from within,

Isn't it ? That is why we always choose the sea instead.

You wouldn't listen and I wouldn't say, so the obvious silence mixes with twilights and flies on with the wet breeze that caresses.

I relive myself with the tides. They accept the inevitable at the shore, still they rise, if for once, they can grow and never touch the ground, ever again.

"Don't you know they never can ?" you say.

"Then why do you wait by the sea" , I ask.

With yours and mine, our scribbled names,

that never were etched deep within the sand,

my own optimism rushes them to futility,

another wave and they are gone, abstruse.

What you would never know is, it's not the swells,

its me who disorients the hyphen in between.

Then I let the waves flow,

On

In,

Through,

Over...

... So that you come and I hope, for that evening.

When the hyphen will remain and the waves will never touch the sands.

You Could Have

Could I have ever really seen
under the shade of the rocky moon
the flash of light from your latest machine
what it was, what it would mean, the tears I wept, the tears I clean.


Could I have ever really known
about your talk of no spring
the colorful pictures you had shown,
my flowers plucked, my garden blown
the trees burned, the seeds unsown


Could I even now realize
where my home disappeared
under the thick black oil, it buys
your words, your constant lies,
deaf to the cries, no matter who dies.


Or in your eyes should I see my fate
dare and try to save us all
from the greed and senseless hate
leave my Mom, my empty plate
my cold crib,and not just lie here in wait !

Beauty...so temporary!

On a lonely highway, lost within myself...oh these street lights deny their interference...the rustic turned maple leaves, burnt out under the sun tells a tale...a tale of torture, lamenting of its situation pushes me to think....think about the woman I knew the night before...those cripples on the sheet, that undone bed and that side pillow with an encircle mark tells a different tale...lady, can you come back again ?

These lonely, bright lit stars compels me to be optimistic during the night...they tell me to think of that bright face, those curious eyes and the sunshine that's going to follow...but this dark, captivating night engulfs me to a distinguished dark thought.

Back to the road again, these dark thoughts fails to go away. Tortures, pain and grief haunts me...in search of beauty, on my way to find an audience, I have ignored the star. These maple leaves, so brightly lit during the day are marred by the sunshine...and the beauty is temporary. My search of appreciation has led me to lose my star. That shimmering beauty is lost forever.

Oh maple beauty, please vaporize!
Oh lady star, won't you come back again!

Value needs a Price Tag

On a silent November night, I fell for u, with an enchanting conversation leading both of us to new, unexplored heights. I must say that was the most relaxed late night of all the nights I had revealed before. Those short phrases unwrapped with intent of captivating you is still fresh in my mind, the lingos still so alive.

One slip that night has completely immersed me into your halo, so big, so vast and yearning for love. Things started shaping up exceedingly well and we thought of a future, future where two individuals grow together. Afterall, at that age, doesn’t it happen with everyone? Youth enables all to mow down the hurdles; at least it provides them a pair of dark glasses to ignore sincerity in life. Obstacles seem to fade away gradually.

They say, wisdom comes with age and so does the chance of facing reality. The affections of a woman have to be won through the dance of commercial success and refinement, or through the deceit of lies. And then sustained for years through many strange virtues, or more lies. The price of love, above all, is monogamy. Then, if you don’t seem to be earning a respectable fortune, even love denies your interference in life.

What I truly hate are meaningless and heartless late night talks where you tell all sorts of lies in the bed to a woman who just needs you to be astronomically rich. You lie to only three people in life; the police, the prosecutor and your partner. Everyone else gets the truth.

Nevertheless, the series of white lies continues. And a part of you starts enjoying the deception. Afterall, there is a charm about the forbidden which makes it desirable. Isn’t it? Even Adam himself did not want the apple for the apple’s sake; he wanted it only because it was forbidden. Somehow, we all gradually start enjoying the risks involved in it.

Freud tells us: ‘Life loses interest when the highest stake in the game of living, life itself, may not be risked.’ Risk is what separates the good part of life from the boredom and from the ordinary. All the worst things in life comes for free, eventually the world starts valuing the risk that one takes during the course of one’s life. Indeed, value seems to need a price tag!

Love Confused !

It was just a normal course of chat over coffee and I was lost in her pensive eyes, enjoying our conversation. The idea was not to propose but to converse, to listen and to vent out my feelings. She said, she wants to run away from her past and finds her solace in me. For me, love should always take a recourse before making a proposal and should be sublime. The essence should exist within.

Attraction always converse with love and this is the stark reality which we all deny accepting. Its the pre-cursor and leaves all of us under an umbrella of doubt. Still we wish to run an extra mile for the sake of it. Nevertheless, it feels stoned to fall in love, again and again and yet again. Or shall I say, one searches for the old touch, the past needs to be revisited with a victorious smile celebrating your win and eventually claiming your new prized possession. Sounding nasty, ain't it? For me, it remains a bitter truth.

Youth has always been related to burrowing illegal, intrinsic and immoral things. And the opportunity of knowing the fragrance of a young lady basking in the glory of youth tops the chart. The emotion to breathe the air around one's beloved rests in peace and the two starts submitting to each other.

Gradually, the lovebirds started their journey. Journey of knowing each other, journey of feeling each other and the journey of loving each other. Physical desire takes a myriad route of love. Impure hearts were submitting to the pure souls. Love remains on the sight, but the journey of love needs sojourn. Afterall, even the human emotions need an abode. How true!

They say, your mind rules over your actions. What homes your emotions? The mind or the heart...and the heart can never dominate the mind. But love is a feeling, an emotion and not an action, it doesn't stem from one's mind. Then what does? Desires, may be!

The Joker

When I think of myself, my being, I think of a complicated, berserk and dull being. The other night, I sat quietly in my balcony, staring at stars, dark and loomy night and asked myself, am I sick or am I suffering from being myself. But how can one suffer from being oneslef? Afterall, haven't we all learnt this so far.

The night progresses and so does my weird, grief struck thoughts. Being a kid, I realize, was so much full of happiness, full of freedom and full of clay oven intellect. Time and wisdom has made us mortal, complex and worldly. Even our minds denies to accept free and honest thoughts and compel us to move beyond being a child, it says, let's go out and play some dirty games, let's join hands and mix with these jokers on the road. We all have been made so dependant, so stubborn that we fail to listen to our hearts. Or shall I say, the voisterous noises around us has suppressed our wishes. People, ordinary men and women, the smell of being ordinary all close to us, prohibit us to think, to reason, to learn and unlearn and to even wish for something we so passionately want. So, what does one do? Become a joker?

With each passing day, I am fighting with myself, hurdling for creativity, to show my imagination, to paint my canvas with my thoughts, to go back and get my wishlist again. That doesn't seem to happen, merely because time demands something else. Time demands success, time demands being ordinary and become a joker. The world respects capitalism and so does your closed ones. Eventually, we all fall in line and pack our bags in search of success, commercial success. As a result, the abnormal self meets failure, trying to supercede the normal. But it doesn't help, really. Or does it? It's time to introspect.

Time flies and we all think at every halt. We all try to do and chart out things which we are passionate about. That has taken a back seat and the reason is quite obvious. In the race of getting close to capitalism, afterall it leads the way, haven't we all become jokers?