The way she flows against me
Fast and slow
To and fro
As we go
The ****** we know
The waves of ecstasy
That washes or souls

They said that I made a better storywriter than a poet
Whatever!
Poets get their ideas from stories but my creativity comes from a glass of Moet Chardon(
A poet is someone who looks for adventure and there I was
On the back porch enjoying the Island breeze
The surging wind made it way through the tall propaganda trees
The trees act as obstacles to wind, somehow those propaganda trees made the
portable air conditioners seem useless in comparison
A family of monkey kept up their appearances daily: jumping from branch to branches
Breaking off bunches of oval-shaped young’s apples, like a morning ritual
while keeping a close eye on me: I capture the moment as it presents itself
Meditating and thinking about making right choices in my life:
My Nana once told me that propaganda leaflets were good for brewing tea to lower one’s blood pressure.
How many times can someone test the cold, cold icy water to realize that it wasn’t suitable for bathing?
That was my was way of dealing with difficult seasonal romance
I am now getting to understand Amy Winehouse struggle with love, relationship and commitment
Going to rehab may mean having to deal with difficult people, however, my addition is far more complicated
Making right choices is my life mission.

Some stories find no reason ever to end,
eternity is all ears throughout  the length.
On a plane different,some do not even begin,
possibilities sowed in  stardust lie in wait.

ചില കഥകള്‍ പറഞ്ഞു തീരുന്നതേയില്ല,
അനന്തത അതിനു ചെവിയോര്‍ത്തിരിക്കുന്നു.
മറ്റെവിടേയോ, ചിലകഥകള്‍ തുടങ്ങുന്നതേയില്ല,
നക്ഷത്ര ധൂളിയില്‍ വിതച്ചിട്ട സാദ്ധ്യതകള്‍ കാത്തിരിപ്പൂ
(Translated to Malayalam, a language of south India)

Fear sleeping for with it my ideas might be gone
By either dying or reverting to where they were born
I hold each piece of memory like slides up a microscope
Nursing them tenderly so that they don't lose hope
And I walk my little fingers over my phone screen
While words from all corners of my mind scream
Can't risk the cacophony in my head turning into a maze
'Cause my mental universe is a cow I must always graze
Sleep tries to have her finger pressing my eyes
I fight back because I can't stand watching my good as it dies
Drowning into hours of foolish immobility
Losing a time I could have maximized my ability
So I keep scribbling a pen when I tire of tapping
Satisfying my ***** obsession so it doesn't think about eloping
I think I'm not a poet but an addict to glamourous words
Probably hoping to come across one that will glue the shards
I'm playing with the hand fate's delt and the cards
Can we blame them for soaring when they were given wings,the birds?*,

And I saw
The endless possibilities
The untapped source of love
The well of dreams unrealized
The kiss of unknown angels
The notes of songs unsung
The memory of those who've gone before us
The hope that fills my heart
The love that threatens to break me
You opened your eyes
And I saw