We came as an elegy enthralling your environment,
Our eyes, kaleidoscopic, intensified by the blazing sun,
Wet from the mid-autumn rain, we smelled like your returning
memories on a rainy Sunday morning,
Rapid heartbeats and racing pulses,
We took you away with us,
Enough, you suffered enough!
We'll close your system and open your boundaries beyond mortality

The wind swept by in a gust,
The only sound in the deadly night
Rattling the branches and the leaves,
Sending a chill, cold and calm

He stood by in the distance,
Gazing up and down,
Then left and right,
Tonight is the night,
Where the city slept ever so peacefully,
Yet his mind drifted restlessly,
Tonight his mind and world crashed

The deserted street roads had a calming effect,
Why so? He did not know,
The bare shops and empty town painted a lonely picture,
Yet he was content to sit by and watch the picture dry,
He can sit by and watch it dry,
The picture in a distance of him and the world

**** them all,
The leaves danced in the windy night,
**** them blind,
To a melody in his wandering mind,
He sat with contempt and content,
Smirking at the forsaken city,
The lonely house by the beach,
Where the sands no longer shine in the dark,
The dark mansion stood a former ghost of itself,
Where now the paint peeled and the light dimmed,
He felt neither happy nor sad; he knew it was due

**** them all,
The distance tonight was the furthest,
**** them blind,
So far yet so near,
He felt the blood and tears of the past,
And laughed at the fate of the forsaken

He went back to sleep.
Peacefully.
**** them all.

Vijaya Balan (2009)

The room stood bare,
And the bed void of a mattress,
Where the rusty fan hanged,
Orange streaks of rust decorated it

Words have no place in this foul air,
The dark figure lay there silently,
The stench of death and misery,
The deafening silence of the night

He was more the merrier yesterday,
When he walked into his usual world,
To play with his roles in this drama of life,
To laugh and smile at the simple joys,
To cry and frown for the downfalls,
Wasn’t he supposed to pick up the pieces?

It hit him like lightning,
Of the past and the future,
Of what was and what was going to be,
Tears formed on the corner of his eyes,
He built his own fortress,
His walls of solitude,
Tuning out from the frequencies of the world
The race to the top no longer concerned him,
The books no longer interested him,
The movies of his stars bored him,
The tunes of his idols seemed soul-less
The phone rang away into the night.

His life flashed by,
The sacrifices and the gifts,
The hellos and the goodbyes,
The world that he ever saw,
Was the world that he got stuck in.

The silence was now all the gold,
The silence was what soothed him now,
The deafening comfortable silence,
The silence that took his life away,
The suicidal silence.

Vijaya Balan (2009)

He woke up from a dream today,
To gaze sight at the break of dawn,
A part of his life gone for the day,
As the morning dew drops on the lawn

Precious memories mingled with emotions,
As the night before played in his mind,
A beauty that needs full devotion,
The red tulip blooms for his kind

Tears fill his dazed eyes,
A thought lingers for that touch,
This heart twisted with cries,
His mortal love for a soul he has not seen much

The dark clouds sweep in gracefully,
Announcing the fall of the mighty rain,
This soul sits in the corner of despair,
Afraid of that grey world of calamity

The windowpane becomes blurry,
And so do his visions of her fade away,
In the cold midnight chill,
Leaving the darkness to prevail

He kneels down by his bed,
Gazing up at the darkened skies,
The moon shining bright,
And the stars twinkling brighter

He prays to the nightfall,
As his ravenous beauty dances with the stars,
Her shadow among the clouds,
An apparition hidden among the darkness,

This dark forlorn love,
As the sands of time change,
He remains there still,
An embodiment of his sacred feeling,
Worshiping her, day and night.

Vijaya Balan (2008)

Your laughter resonates through the air,
Your lingering perfume permeates my nostrils,
What caught my eye, was your eyes,
Your radiant glow and dazzling eyes,
What caught my mind,
Were your witty remarks and mutual sarcasm,
I got hooked and never looked back,
Timing, all I can say,
Thank You!

During the war, I was in China.
Every night we blew the world to hell.
The sky was purple and yellow
like his favorite shirt.

I was in India once
on the Ganges in a tourist boat.
There were soldiers,
some women with parasols.
A dead body floated  by
going in the opposite direction.
My son likes this story
and requests it each year at Thanksgiving.

When he was twelve,
there was an accident.
He almost went blind.
For three weeks he lay in the hospital,
his eyes bandaged.
He did not like visitors,
but if they came
he'd silently hold their hand as they talked.

Small attentions
are all he requires.
Tell him you never saw anyone
so adept
at parallel parking.

Still, your life will not be easy.
Just look in the drawer where he keeps his socks.
Nothing matches.  And what's the turtle shell
doing there, or the map of the moon,
or the surgeon's plastic model of a take-apart heart?

You must understand --
he doesn't see the world clearly.
Once he screamed, "The woods are on fire!"
when it was only a blue cloud of insects
lifting from the trees.

But he's a good boy.
He likes to kiss
and be kissed.
I remember mornings
he would wake me, stroking my whiskers
and kissing my hand.

He'll tell you -- and it's true --
he prefers the green of your eyes
to all the green life
of heaven and earth.

The walls can be brought down,
Rivers can be crossed and oceans sailed,
Mountains hiked and conquered,
The skies, blazed through with vengeance,

But to have you understand me,
Understand my humour and my fears,
There's no bigger conquest done.

Dream had a glass of wine with me,
Faltered through my reality,
Disrupted my slumber,
Caressed my wandering thoughts

He picked a book, old faded cover,
He turned a musty yellowish page,
Picked out a line and read,

"You, my own creator,abhor me.
What hope do I have? Shall I not
hate those who hate me? Shall I not
lash out at those who wish me ill?
You accuse me of the worst,
yet do not yourself shrink,
from inducing far greater violence on me!"

I woke up. The tale of the lonely monster lay next to me.
The pages were turned but I had turned too.
I need to love my creations. I am a creator of my own.
I can be a classic tale after all.

My demons danced at the gates as I walked into the temple,
She looked peaceful and glimmered in the sunlight,

She asked me "Why do you look calmer today? Is it this place? "
"No" I replied. "I left my baggage at the door,but I'll need them back when I go out into the world "

"You need some company with that, mine are making friends with yours right now", she smirked and her eyes twinkled.