That's not a God, that's a sense of entitlement
A sugarcoated dishevelment in disguise
You don't have dreams, just infatuations
Turning hope into self-indulgent lies

I turned away from New York just to know you
Silver showered soldiers singing serene
I turned away from myself just to love you
But I don't think you know what love means

You're not alone, just afraid of isolation
Afraid no one will be better than me
I'm not that great, I say without hesitation
Someone will love you more, just wait and see

My opinion of you changes like the skyline
A star among the cascading dark
Baby, don't let yourself flame out
Before the rest of your fire starts

Milk rice curd and fish
brinjal chilli and gourd
not one item I would miss
not forget one word.

Mom would say write them down
so don't you leave anything
banana butter tea bread brown
a world of goods to bring.

I run on the way muttering those stuff
curd and fish fine tea
on my head they hit me rough
jumble my memory.

The sky today is yawning blue
clouds sail like milky raft
in the wind is a drift of sweet brew
incense's misty waft!

Walk easy boy don't go so fast
aren't the birds on mystery flight
look up to see how in wind's gust
soared high in the sky the kite!

There's a crowd in charm of magic wand
a snake dancer with his wooden flute
brought bagful tricks from distant land
snakes caught from jungles remote!

On the playground is running a match
ball rolling from net to net
why not stop for some minutes' watch
keep brinjal and gourd on wait!

The field is green trees' shade alluring
dreams come in bird wings' flap
milk rice curd now a distant thing
the boy takes a nebulous nap.

When you see her cry
     you get a rag,
a gentle delicate cloth.
                                        Lovingly grasp her hand
                                               and dab its tip;
                                       dry each tear as they come.
                                                           ­                               And ask each drop
                                                            ­                                   why it'd leave
                                                           ­                               such beautiful eyes.

  If she wishes
to be in the sky,
  tell her to go.
                              Take the sun ransom,
                              and replace its shining
                                    with her own.
                                                            ­          So you can see her every morning
                                                         ­                          and wish for her
                                                                ­                  return each night.

When you see her scars
  both visible and non-
    touch each gently.
                                             And remind her
                                       that each and every hurt
                                            she has survived,
                                                       ­                                 has only made her
                                                                ­                   that much more unique;
                                                         ­                              that much stronger.

  Show her that she
  is a special person
and is worthy of love.
                                     That she deserves the love
                                            she fears to give...
                                            show her so that
                                                            ­                     one day after you're gone
                                                            ­                      she can find the strength
                                                                ­                    to go on without you.

    Tell her that while
she might not be a goddess
far above worldly desires,
                                          that she is amazing,
                                         for just being herself
                                    for being that beautiful girl
                                                            ­                   who thinks herself damaged
                                                         ­                         when in truth she's just
                                                            ­                    a different kind of beautiful.

   And finally, love her.
  Like a boy loves a girl
Till she finally remembers
                                            that that's what she is:
                                          not a scar, not a goddess,
                                             not a star. But a girl.
                                                           ­                         That deserves to be loved.

Stirs its ashes and embers, its burnt sticks

An eye powdered over, half melted and solid again
Ponders
Ideas that collapse
At the first touch of attention

The light at the window, so square and so same
So full-strong as ever, the window frame
A scaffold in space, for eyes to lean on

Supporting the body, shaped to its old work
Making small movements in gray air
Numbed from the blurred accident
Of having lived, the fatal, real injury
Under the amnesia

Something tries to save itself-searches
For defenses-but words evade
Like flies with their own notions

Old age slowly gets dressed
Heavily dosed with death's night
Sits on the bed's edge

Pulls its pieces together
Loosely tucks in its shirt

Generation Playstation.
How many of you know that when it's two o'clock
The sun points
South?

I grew up falling down from trees and hills.
But I also taught myself to make fire
Without fire.
I drank too, as a teenager.
We drank around bonfires.

When we came home red-eyed, smoke-smelling and usually superficially
Cut, our fathers would pretend
Not to be proud.

We saw right through it, just like our mothers did.
They felt they had to say something.
They did, and we pretended to listen,
For the sake of peace to rest.

There was no room for drugs:

We were already
Happy.

I've been in three homes
Where a piano, or three
Resided in the dining room
Now one would think
That this would encourage
Music to accompany the eating experience
However, growing up
Singing was forbidden at the table

The Devil rests
Within the chests
Of men whose muse is Wine.
He wears my face
So well some days
His name just might be mine.

To E.

I guess it's not nice to hold a knife
To someone's throat and say
Take that back, boy*,
But you did and it's done, and
Insulting my mother the way he did,
I agree that he needed to learn.
He'll never know
It was your sister's
Nail file from when she borrowed
Your coat
That he felt. He shook for hours.

You were refreshingly crazy. Crazy
And equally sly
About hiding the needle marks
From your parents.

Skin and bone, pale as snow from
Riding that old white horse
Since thirteen.
A ghost long before you went.

They found you by their kitchen
Table, box of pills and a note
By your still hands.
Tidy and organized
For once.

You are still my friend,
Wherever you are.
Your memory as intact

As my mother's honour
Remains
To this
Day.

Night. Dark giant.
Lying down as if to sleep
Itself.

Eyes huge as Time
Narrow-
Lulled looking at
Stars beyond
Stars.

Eyes huge as Time to which
Light-years merely lightnights.
Black as blindness
-Empty as newborn hands-
Fog of a cloud in a mist within smoke,
Shaped as the
Opposite of
Fire.

Opposite of fire, and as
Cold as the darkness
It is.

I can take as much pain
As my shadow.
Its impact's the same on us
Both.
We suffer in equal
Silence.
All you'll hear is the sound of our
Growth.