I've been listening
  Not to the sounds
      To the silence
         Not of the beauty
           Of the sadness
              And I can tell
                      *It screams.

Waking up in the morning.
The day isn't bright.
Calm as water to the people
Volcanoes erupting on the inside.

The box of thoughts you lock away,
Pretending you've lost the keys.
Nights you spend in a corner.
What is it you seek?

You walk on a tight rope
Falling, your only choice.  
Blink, and people will notice
The tears forming in your eyes.

Storm's coming your way.
And you've been out with only an umbrella.
You think you are strong?
The fake laughters and smiles.
You've been at it for much too long.

The days will be brighter,
Shorter will be the nights.
You've been carrying a river inside you
For quite a while.
I know you can't try harder,
But love, it's okay to cry.

Someday you feel as though you are the last leaf of the autumn’s being
And, the slightest whiff of the wind would ruin the season for all.
You feel that the entire world is woven in the designs on your skin
So intricate, so compact and yet so burdensome, you’d fall.

Grimy, wilted, the worn-out leaf
You were picked upon by the birds on the tree.
Severed as you jump out of the lap of the once lush green,
Floating in the dusty gust was another misery.

Rueful yet rebellious, you longed for wings.
Cos waiting for you in a dark, far-off corner was the gorgeous spring.
Denuded lands could offer only so much cover.
So as the days grew darker, fearful became the vernal queen.

On your tiny back you bear the brunt of sins of your land
Your gait exudes the weariness, the heart exudes the desire.
The infallible falls but never does he fail.
From the endless scars on your body leaks the vengeful ire.  

You were after all, the last leaf of the fall,
the last synapse to sanity, the curtain to the wonderful show.
Your pace slowed down, and each time the mercury rose,
Spring died a little.

Sunday morning, pit-pit patter on my window panes
hot beverage, blurred vision
old gramophone playing in the next room.
Oh, how she loves music!

40 years of marriage, her hair still smell like fresh jasmine
broken glasses, shallow pockets.
Her radiant smile, wet hair
I sniff the jasmine in the air around.

Love marriage, college affair
Love letters, and library meetings.
old days, fresh memories.
She peers out from behind the door.

Her wrinkled skin, mine too.
Her lips part as she hums along to
old gramophone playing in the next room.
Oh, how she loves music!

In me a child was raised,
in me a child drowns.
Flung so far deep into the water,
That the surface is a misty cloud.

Its first steps marked my scope
The last steps do not leave a trail.
The son I lost to the waves,
The last I had, the last I knew.

Big bright eyes, the deep blue sea.
First words, a distant memory.
Building dreams on the beach.
Each demolished in pride and pain.
That little terror in my womb.
Fate's play.

The child I carried in my heart
The playful kid that I was.
Last goodbye, my son.
For I have stopped playing for good.

In me a child was raised,
in me a child drowns.

You seek me in your prayers
In smiles of the faces
In the innocence of a child
And, in the maturity of the wild.

You seek me from the start
In the calm before a war
In stillness of the chaos
In music of the nature.

You look for me in the love lost
Not in loss of the lives.
All your life, you seek me
You look in the brightest places.
I dwell in the darkest of nights.

Look for me in the ashes
Of the fire that burnt down
The bridges, forests and the towns.
Look for me in the reflection
Of the face you’ve become-
The helpless devil
With charm of an angel.  

Look for me in the grounds
That kissed feet of the bravest soldiers
Look for me in the bodies that are wounded
In the war with no mourners.

Look for me, not in the mizzle.
Look for me in the storms of acid you raise
With excuse of advancements.
In greed of the greatest fate.

It will take only a moment
For the fate to be fatal
Look for me in the right places.
Find the glittering metal.

Even if I fall short of words, I will not fall short of music.
Today, I will dance.  
I will let my soul stumble in the dark.
And the beautiful piece that plays will be from my broken heart.
If it starts to rain tonight,
I will let my body drench in the music that follows.
Today, i will dance.

I will let my eyes give away what my heart has been hiding.
The sorrows, the pains and the madness.
Today, I will open doors
And while my feet barely touch the ground beneath,
I will let my soul find peace.  
Today, I silence the chaos within.

And if the angels may forget me today,
I will let the demons play the songs to my soul.
I will dance to the sounds of the silence in the night that will not perish with the morning sun.
Today, I will trick nature.  


And if the music should consume me today, I will want to be the nothingness forever.
Today, I will fill the void that wrecks my poor heart.
*Today, I will dance.

I'm not a poet
I never was one.
Where the words could build and wreck lives.
Mine caused only a ripple
Where the words could cause chaos
Mine let out only a whimper.

The words, they should be magical
But, mine knew no sorcery.

All my life, I spent it finding the exact words
The words never found me.
Also, I never quite got the hang of feelings
They were all so beautiful and ugly.
But words were all that remained
And I want them to stay close
within the wild musings of my reckless heart.

Thinking of the mountains in your heart that you try and hide so consciously,
Making it a point to return to them in the midnight,
A walk through the cragged surface again and a dream of the starry sights,
2 A.M in the night, dark outside, darker inside.
The slightest hint of light that catches the eye be an excuse for the sleep-deprived.
You dream,
You toss and turn.

The thoughts that meander through the lives you live, the alternate realities.
The right and wrong of every decision you’ve ever made tortures, you’re never safe.
You can see the slightest mistakes, the lumps forming in your throat.
You let your demons win, your mind an evil lair.  
The devils take up the spaces, the light escapes.
The eyes are sunken, but the mind still reckless,
Unapologetic  to the poor heart.
You toss and turn.

And when the heart pleads mercy,
Your body complies.
Curling up further under the blanket,
You give it another try.
Night after night, the same routine,
This life a long, lonely suicide.
The flashback, the memories, the love lost finds a space.
You toss and turn.

The silent conversations in our letters
are cradled by the lovely, lonesome breezes of  the spring.
They travel just a little beyond  the horizon.
And, settle into the depths of the waveless oceans.

Night after night, they make a call.
Come hither, friend! Rescue us all.

When the slightest puff of wind brushes away
the strands of your dark, raven hair from your creased forehead.
Do not close the windows.

When the hushed whispers tickle your ears
Do not dismiss them as just another noise.

Night after night, they make a call.
Come hither, friend! Rescue us all.

They are treasures buried in coffers of the past.
They are gold, and they glitter.
They are dreams of a distant future,
Vague and infinite.

So, when you wake up in middle of the night
from the visions in your deep sleep.
Do not dismiss them as just another nightmare.

They are like the carols of Christmas, poetry of the past.
They are musings of a lovely, lonesome heart.
Do not dismiss them as just another prose.

*Night after night, they make a call.
Come hither, friend! Rescue us all.

From the day the magic of words grabbed your pen,
You have had an ink, an ink that settles any tumult inside.  
Your scarlet ink blots the pages,
Very much like what it does to a million minds.

From the day you’ve learned to walk, you’d rather dance
You’d rather stumble than just tread those awful paths.
Despite the flightless bird that you are, you’d rather fly.
You’d soar higher, for your heart would set the limits and not the sky.

From the day you recognised colours, you’ve been painting the town red.
The canvas has never been blank, even if your life’s been but colourless.
For what are palettes to a mind with such torrent of emotions
Your fears formed the blackness in the painting, your liveliness too garish for the sight.

From the moment love tugged at your heartstrings,
You’ve been but singing all the while.
You’d rather sing without notes than in a voice that would tell you’ve cried.
Your emotions so melodious, you’d drown somewhere softly in the shallow sky.

From the moment you knew of movement, you’d rather run.
You’d run from place to place, all the responsibilities shun.
It was on the day when the drops of sweat smothered your own face,  
and your mind was sore, that you realized *life was not another game.

She had warmth in her heart.
He loved playing with fire.
Stirring up her world,
He would come and go as he desired.
He understood very little that her perfect glass world
would fall apart with his slightest touch.

From the broken pieces that remained
She started building a world for herself again.
Only this time with a thicker glass.
He breathed out.
Her world was a house of cards.
It collapsed onto the ground.

She collected all the cards.
And dreamed of a perfect house.
This time,she built it with iron bars.
It was a cage that she built for herself,
He locked her in.

She had long forgotten of freedom.
With whatever was left of her independence
She tried to build a house again.

When he went there
There was no house
She was lying on the ground.
She fought her own battles now.
*The strongest house yet.

The fear, silent, sly stretches across the room
Sitting in a corner, I wait for the doom.
My swollen eyes recognise the silhouette
lurking in shadows of the dimming night.
It crept nearer.

Leave me alone, I cherish the solitude.
It fed on my thoughts.  It grew healthy.
I slammed and shut the door tight.
The door remained ajar.
It crept nearer.

If death be beautiful, let it take over the night.
If the fear is to stay, it is better turning off the lights.
The silent breezes are deafening.
The walls are closing in on me.
It crept nearer.

The fear empties my life, one moment at a time.
It is the flashbacks, the nightmares,
and, everything that is frightening.
My heart defies death.
My body nourishes the certainty.  
I lie down for a moment.
*It crept nearer.

Make me the essence of your dark twisted poetry
And I shall burn, burn,burn in the manuscripts.
Write me with your ink, fine lover.
And, I shall flow like the wind.
Gushing out like rivers
To quench your thirst for words.
Bring to me your thoughts
I would turn them into storms
Pirouetting on your study table.
Write me in your story, our story
Of passion, love and sins.
Write me in your heart
And, I shall hold your heartbeats.
Write me ,sweet lover
Write me in your dreams.
Let there be stories, poems
And tales of our sweet win.

Afraid how big the mountain may seem
You walked away.
Your incompetent eyes failed to see
What lay beyond.

Million beautiful lilies that measure a spring day,
A Yellow sheet covers the beyond
The ground so beautiful,
The grass so soft like clouds.
It kisses your muddy feet
You finally feel at home.

The tangerines that hang
From boughs of the fat trees
Like a million lanterns
To light up every corner of your soul
Butterflies in the day
and fireflies in the night.
They take away the worries.

Lift off the foggy veil
For the crystal lakes are waiting to be discovered.
The ripples that conspire magic,
they call on the heavens above.

Cocoons and coffins are not the same,
You never outgrow a coffin.
It will always be a mystery.
It will always be short of adjectives.
The place where the Gods talked poetry.
The place that did not know of doom.

Beyond lay a fairy tale
Beyond was home.
But, the mountain seemed big
And you walked away.
Another wrecked existence.