World is a mess .
Don't disturb the way of its noise.

I have been addicted to things –
to songs, people, voice
to prayers, love, hymns.
And when once in a while
I feel alone, struggling to be strong
I see,
that I have been addicted to things –
to distraction, chatboxes and messages,
it will be okay, alright and don’t be afraid,
and when once in a while
the only voice you hear
is your own heartbeat,
I realize
I have been addicted to things.

When I was a kid,

I wanted to be a pilot.

I wanted to fly all kinds of planes

Fast plane, big plane, small plane,

I also wanted to fly the jets, and the HUGE cargo planes,

and then the gliders, hot air balloons, from the classic indian the pushpak vimaan to those double winged old airplanes, as seen on encyclopedias !

And ahh..

The fighter jets too

but a fighter jet would not have seats for a family picnic,

so may be I’d fly the passenger jets.

A Boeing 777 perhaps-

but all of this, my air plane fanaticism, was because I had a special place that I wanted to fly.

In one of my dad’s many stories, he once told me about a special plane.

It was called Moment 001- The first and the last of it’s kind.

Now, Moment 001 was the best kind of plane,

It was colored like the rain, it was faster than the human brain

It was lighter than a car, and it’s speed – INSANE !

So fast that not even time could catch up,

Moment 001 was a time machine.

But with wings and blinks and pretty little things.

A machine that goes so fast it can escape the grip of time.

When I was a kid, I could not wait to grow up !

And it was confusing,

The plant that I planted in grade 3 by the time I was in grade 4

was taller than me, and I would be the same.

I wanted to grow older faster,

in order to fly airplanes

and may be- just may be

get my hands on Moment 001.

 

And then it happened,

slowly, but it happened.

Growing up I realized time is a funny thing.

You can’t turn the clock arms around and go back to yesterday,

and then realizing that time and space are both quantities,

and then again some theoretical physicist say-

that time is not really timeless.

 

Basically,

We humans have not figured time out.

No time machines !

Moment 001 was an airplanes that did not exist.

But where science failed me, art found me.

Airplanes were replaced by poetry,

and I was fascinated by words.

I wanted to fly words.

All kinds of words,

Strong words, Science words,

some right words, some wrong words,

used up words, and some left over words,

rap words and pop words-

And it turns out,

They have invented time machine in poetry

A long long time ago

And no, I did not grow up to be a pilot,

but that does not stop me from flying-

my paper planes.

The world is a ****** up place
a place for the mindless
a place where a mouthful can be mindful
a place for you to be sad.

The world is a ****** up place.
and you will try to escape it,
but the rangers of the world are relentless
pity them, for they do not know that they range
pity them, for they do not recognize the darkness they carry on their backs
pity them, for they think their escalation is supreme
pity them, for they are ****** up too.
Pity them but do not join them,
this is for your own good-
the true good,
don’t you join the traders of the world
don’t you join the keeper of keys
don’t you join the giver of things
and don’t you join the maker of slaves
for this world is put in front of you as a test

A test!

I just have a wish in a wish…
A wish which never gets a finish…
All dedicated to me all given for a kind miss…
Just may be a tasty dish, sweet kiss or anything just which never ends as a wish…
May be ur arm or god’s embrace so warm…
May be anything just getting into me as a pure swarm…
Just leaving me in such a land never ending happiness and far from the world so selfish…
I just have a wish in a wish which never gets a finish…

I hate it
when she is with me
holding me,
teasing me
but in her mind it’s you.
She is playing with me,
trying to talk to me
but in her heart, it’s you.
You always come in between us,
She and I.
She doesn’t even look at me
if you don’t remind.
And when you asks
I hate that
She plays me
it’s for you.

What does that even mean?
***?
What is that?
If we’re both drunk does it count?
Because I am the definition
awkward.
So a drink in me might
do her a favor.
But just for the first time.
So I’m comfortable enough
to draw my line,
Or the line of hickeys
I left on your neck.
Consent.
Because you’re awkward, too.
A lovely Shade of shyness.
But all I could do was look you
in the eyes
and say you’re beautiful.
Then a tear streamed down your face.
And all that came out was
Are you sure this is okay?
Consent.
Because I’m not comfortable,
the way you’re comfortable.
The way taking off my shirt
feels like letting the sea inside me.
So I’ll keep my pants on,
until the lights are off.
And even then,
my scars are screaming.
It’s ringing in my ear,
my biggest fear.
When she stops and whispers,
Are you sure this is okay?
The first time I’ve ever heard
those words.
Was the first time I felt free.
For the first time,
I didn’t feel *****.
When you whisper in my ear.
I thought, Baby!
I love it when you talk
consent to me.

It’s sad
when the butterfly is no longer there in your stomach
when heart stop beating loud, there’s no more thud.. thud
when you stop breathing hard
even when she looks at you.
It’s sad
as you feel calm and cold
instead of the usual anxiety
nervousness, out of breath,
no more fiddling with your shoes,
even when she speaks.

Her voice doesn’t melt you anymore,
her sight doesn’t excite you.
She no longer has that power over you,
no more weak knees,
and stuttering
no more going blank in the middle of sentence
no more absent-mindedness.
Your passion for her is fading
like an old painting
and an old memory.
Your feeling is disappearing
like lost souls in war
and is replaced by indifference.
Hope she doesn’t come back haunting
like an old dream.

It’s not death I fear,
I would welcome it with an open arms,
Like an old friend I haven’t seen for forever,
Like you would welcome love.
What I am afraid is dying through suffocation
When you are in a room full of smoke,
And you realize that you only have these fumes
That burns your chest with every inhale, to breathe.
When you are choking on ether,
And you can’t really feel it because
There is nothing to choke on.
When you are in a close space
And the hot air you breathe out
is the air you need to breathe in.
When you are drowning in the sea
And you realize there is nothing you can do about it.

You know-  I know you
not from somewhere,
no mutual friends,
No I haven’t stalked you
well may be once, but regardless
I just know you better
because the heart there is like the heart here
while all your things are important
you love them all
but the most
you love is not a thing at all


you remain emotional at times
most of the times
ah, the butterfly!
The crazy guy on the street
you sympathize
I know why you hide behind your shades
crazy looks you evade
I do it all the same.



while all you want to be is alone
for no reason; just alone
talk to yourself;
I bet there isn’t anyone that talks to you better
and listens to you better
I know why you smile
wider for lens,
I know why you spend big buck
but save the pence
I know why you have a different FB name
I know you,
because I do it all the same.


I know you because you are no different
all your reasons would be
the same as the reasons for me
wear the craziest clothes
try to stand out in a place
you might look pretty more
with a made up face
I see what you hide,
Beneath the skin of yours
Beneath you mascara lines
The sharp side of you
jailed within the array of your teeth
speaks the same language as the person jailed within mine
Breathes same as the one beneath my skin
And finds solace in paper cuts
I have similar light in my eyes
As I see in yours,
and in the very same way it ignites
everyday it rises and everyday it dies
In every face and in every soul I see, it resides.



You know,  I know you
you’re different you may claim
Yes !
but the heart you have and the one I do
beats all the same
beats all the same.

I am lost or my existence
Don't know.
I am talking to myself since a couple of time.
I am lost or my existence
Don't know.
But some thing is lost.

Today,
as I read her the unsent letters
I had written to her
She asked me “Why do you love me?”
I said I didn’t know.
“Must have been that every time I’m in your arms,
I feel like home.”

My eyes closed,
I say to myself
Someone must have placed a heavy metal object on the top of my stomach,
not knowing I'm a human who feels PAIN!
And that person in my mind keeps telling me
that he has kept it gently there.
I say, 'Hey! It's a metal object and it hurts anyway!'
Gathering up some energy,
I go to my table and sit in a chair
Skimming through the pages of my diary,
I try to write a poem,
when suddenly something kicks me from the inside,
keeps making me suffer until I stop.
No wonder I was trying to write about PERIOD CRAMPS!
There you go again!
These cramps are not just pain to my body
but some reminders that keep sneering at me saying,
"No, you can't do that!"
Believe me,
Sometimes they are worse than this society that reminds me of my boundaries.
Anyway, five days pass by
and then I say goodbye.
Seeing my grin,
It decides to remind me,
"My pal, don't you worry
Cause I will be back again."