Before I come and wake you
With hot tea and kisses
I will say some quiet words
In the dark
where you cannot hear them

I founder sometimes in your beauty
As if the side or depth of it are out of reach
I sink beneath its density
How your body shudders
With unwinding joy
When everything and breathing stops
In one intense point of space and time
Resounding and fading
A sheer pulsing drift of wonder

Then I feel your flesh vibrating
Like strings beneath my fretted fingers
Like an ocean of dazed and dazzled being
Exploding beyond your senses
And flooding your soul with holy vespers

And I am blessed to be in your body at such a time

And I am further blessed
By the intimacy of your secrets
Those fears and hopes
Your most precious self that no one sees
Beyond the energies of life and death
Beyond healing and forgiveness

You let me touch your prayers

In grace and bright dawning
When being is done and the universe explodes
Will the murmurs of our love
taste like Sanctus on the lips of angels

And I will be blessed to be in you at such a time

Im walking around as a man,
I see all the peoples numbed
And hysterical running sideways
Awash in all the bumpers and
Window pains.

A whiff of life matters and its suicidal.
I walk sober and wonder of gardens
And simple natures, a return to all
That that I forgot.
I see the institutional shadows
Hogging all the light.

It so happens Im sober now
And I'm fed up with this circus.
Being this kind of man leaves
Me feeling plastic.

Still- it would be nice to rain
A little hope now and again,
Leaving the panic of bills and
Payments behind for a few,
Maybe just breathe and know I am alive,
But all the people seem to be
Dying of the shivers.

I cannot live like this,
Like a fool with no bearing,
Wide open and wounded dripping
All the demons that seem better
Than this realistic catastrophe,
Absorbing the monetary blows.

Ive had all I can take from
The sadness, the pain, the old demons.
I step into your world and I decided
I dont like it this way either,
Dying of normalcy and repetition.

I am no cadaver, underground with
A bunch of metaphorical cadavers,
The paper be the morgue,
The words be the morbidity of the
Life.

Thats why I flare up indside like
A bon fire, when you see me up close
With the face of a poet, the life
Of a rogue, broken down and
Walking with grey October,
You will see me.

Something shoves me toward hope,
Dripping the fragments of darkness,
I fly out the windows,
Smelling afresh the air I know
Is there, I smile and I know
That I make hope,
Such audacious hope.

There, the trusted doors I open,
The horror that I leave,
The repetition I smite,
I still all the mirrors and take a deep breath,
Unabashed crossing your path,
I see with crystalline eyes,
The world I make,
The wounded heart that still
Manages to love,

I dare to hope,
I dare to live,
I live to hope.....

Hello
I just want to say hello
In the longest way i possibly can
I saw you there and I knew
I wanted to speak to you
I had to speak to you
And the best thing I came up with
is hello
Hello isn't just a greeting
It has many different meanings
So many ways you can say hello
You can say hey
With just a simple word
I'm telling you all the things
I want to say
Hello can mean I like you
Hello can mean I miss you
Hello can mean please come to my side
Make sure you follow what comes next
Make sure you read between the lines
Hello is just a letter addressed to you
I'm going to write you a letter
And in it a single message
"Hello"

I remember your breath,
In the room without death,
You were ranting so strange with your hands.
Stroking your hair,
In the perfumed air
While the blossoms
Lay still on your land.

And those were the days,
And that was our world,
We were running from the filth
And the cash.
And I was in love
With your eerie kind soul,
I still have your
White ribbon sash.

But you weren’t aware,
With the books in your head,
Amongst the butterflies drifting around.
You weren’t aware,
With your bright shining hair,
Just sleep now,
You’re sleeping now,
Just sleep now,
You’re awake now,
Your fingertips gracing the ground.

I remember your breath,
In the room without death,
Your jewels useless,
They lay on the mat.
We sat and we sang,
Ignoring the bang,
As the prisoners were shot through their hats.

And then closing your eyes
From the outside noise,
That tried to sneak up under the door.
You sighed out a song,
You said ‘God no more’
I have lived well
Although I didn’t live long.

And you floated away,
Like a white feathered moth,
Your face
It was warmed by the sun.
You floated away,
On that tropical dusk day,
You’re asleep now,
Please just sleep now,
You’re asleep now,
A constant dream now,
Stop feeling the earth down

It’s done.

I lost it when the storm blew,

Wi-Fi, laptop, iPad too.

On my kindle, no bars found,

Oh lord, the internet is down.



My Facebook friends no longer poke,

I cannot tweet a single joke.

My iTunes offer not a sound,

Now the internet is down.



I finally fix that broken chair,

Clean my room, wash my hair.

Then I wander all around,

Now the Internet is down.



The library’s packed. And the theater too,

I need my fix. Can I sit here too?

Is Wi-Fi in another town?

Now the internet is down.



I’ll search the house and find a nook,

To finally read that Dan Brown book.

My thoughts are clear, my soul unbound,

Now the internet is down.



I’ll study French. Take up guitar,

I’ll search for wisdom, near and far.

To internet’s death, I raise my cup,

Wait. Never mind. It came back up.
:)

Everyone



needs to be told it's going to be okay sometimes.





And it will.

I fall in love  with dynamics.
I am intrigued by chemistries.
But people, in their own right,
Have never stolen the breath from me.

The interaction between one person and another
Can entertain me for days, weeks, months
To see how their dynamic works, how it functions
In every and every situation, at least once.

Dynamic is not something everyone has
Chemistry is not ensured from birth or at all
Thus when I see it, positive or negative,
It grips me, holds me, keeps me under its thrall.

I do not fall in love with people.
It is a fact I've come to accept.
People have never inspired adoration, no,
I fall in love with dynamics.

I thought something
Was wrong with me.
I'm writing so
Seriously.
Reading poetry
Religiously.
Lines invade
When I'm retiring,
Ascending I'm reciting,
Divining parallel parables.
I'm convinced he's
Left the stage,
Replaced by me
On the page,
In figures of speech.
The Chosen words,
Give meaning and comfort
Religion obscured.

There's a first time for everything.
First love-
First kiss,
First real relationship.
First time I knew you were looking right through me.
First time I doubted you,
First time I questioned the motives for the things you do.
First moment I suspected you didn't love me.
First time I knew you thought I was inferior to thee.
First time you yelled at me.
First time you touched me and it wasn't lovingly.
First time you pulled away from a kiss and then wouldn't look me in the eyes.
First time I knew some of what you said would still be just lies.
First time I could see myself building a life with another person.
First time I loved freely without needing permission.
First time I thought you were different.
First time I realized you were just like the rest of them.
Remember the first time you got so afraid I was going to leave?
First time you made me cry, first of oh so many.
First time you hugged me.
First time you spoke without love or sincerity.
First time you said you missed me.
Our first, and our last, anniversary.
First time you told me I wasn't very smart.
First time someone ever broke my heart.

Where does the spark and infatuation from the beginning go?

It’s crazy how quickly you can go from being excited to talk to a person to feeling like you’re forcing the conversation. The quality time you spend with each other turns into “I was busy” and the consistent communication becomes “I don’t know”.  When does “I hate to see you leave” turn into “It hurts too much to stay?”

Could it be because we’re all guilty of taking things for granted? Maybe we think love is something which will appear whenever it is convenient, or maybe we don’t realize how important it is to keep a good thing going. Maybe we think happiness is something that just finds us, instead of being something we must work for. And maybe that’s why we end up doing or saying something we shouldn’t have, and regret our actions later. It’s amazing how fast things change…

You go from laughing about anything to arguing about everything. You go through the motions, wondering if they’re real, if they really do care, or if they’re going to run when it turns rough. It’s so scary. You want to give more of yourself to somebody but it’s hard so these days because you just never know if you’ll get anything back. Don’t we all deserve a bit of love? Love is not something just to be taken, it’s to be given as well. You think you have it all sorted. That they will come around sooner or later. That they will realize what they are doing will only wreck the relationship beyond repair.

You do little things, you stay consistent, but somehow it just doesn’t add up. Maybe the problem is that we except the love to be magical before we become magicians. Or could it be that we’re all just better breakers than builders? We’d rather have feelings we can throw away and ‘love’ that’s disposable.

We grew up reading tales like Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty etc, which lead us to believe that the path of love is a bed of roses, without the thorns. Or blame it on the overdose of the too-good-to-be-true love stories we encounter in films and read in novels. Happily ever after is a myth. And Happily Married is the biggest oxymoron ever.

Reality is rough. You only want what’s easy and that’s why what you get never lasts. Everybody wants to be fought for but nobody is willing to fight. Is this fair? She loves butterflies but she avoids beginnings because she hates to start over. He’s tired but he’s so used to the chase that he’s scared to stop running.

Makes you wonder… Is love really hard, or are people just difficult?

You are gone now,

But I am still here.

And as I recollect the sweet memories,

My eye sheds a tear.



I will miss you a lot,

That’s for sure.

For you were like the morning rays,

So fresh and so pure.



You were like the sun rays,

That woke me up each morning.

You were like my shadow,

Which would be with me till evening.



You were like sparkling water,

Transparent and clear.

I would see my reflection in you and smile,

But you are no more here.



You were like the setting sun,

Glowing red and bright.

But, you would return again as the moon,

Shining high and white.



I see your face in the stars,

Smiling and so full of joy.

I will never forget you,

And never say goodbye.

We've all heard about the site 'Ask.fm' where people anonymously ask each other questions, be it about their personal life or just for fun. I recently joined this site just to see what kind of questions people ask and how people react to such questions. But one answer really infuriated me.
A person was asked to describe his country (India) in 3 words. He replied saying 'Cricket. ****. Corruption'. Now I understand the frustration a normal Indian faces everyday regarding the growing cases of **** and corruption. But why insult your own country on a public forum knowing fully well that the person sending the question might just be from a different country? Is this the picture we want to give others about India? We should be proud to be Indians and should talk highly of our country. This brings me to my next point.
I hear a number of Indians, specially students, criticizing the country and saying that they want to leave it. It bothers me that educated Indians themselves have no will to help develop their own country. India cannot grow until the people want to make it grow. Unfortunately, people, including me, have been influenced too much by the western culture. We see America and all we want is to live in a country as 'classy' and developed as America. Why don't we think even once that if we leave, how will our country flourish? It is the people who form a country, not the government and not the old politicians. I am not implying that all of us should join politics and run the country. But the least we can do is lead it to the path of development in the best possible way we know.
Charity begins at home. Our home is India and we are Indians. Running away from this fact won't change it.

Upon an honest mans grave they danced and joked

Upon an honest mans grave they sighed and smoked

Upon an honest mans grave they drank their wine

Upon an honest mans grave they did their line

Upon an honest mans grave they told some lies

Upon an honest mans grave they howled and cried

Upon an honest mans grave their life became so bleak

Upon an honest mans grace they were too dead to speak

I never stick to anything for more than a few weeks
Habits die harder than young love, it's so bleak
I never finish anything, my creation is disaster
But if destruction's a form of creation, call me.. "Creative Master"

I see you and can't look you in the eye
I feel your presence as you pass by me and i can't feel your touch
I hear you speak and i can't just open my mouth
I see your footprints and i cant follow your steps
We both stare at each other and i look away

Impregnation
Inevitably results in conception
You are prolific,
And I, so very fertile.
The gestation period varies
I, heavy with our creation
Give birth to words.
Our children delight us
One day, they too
Will speak, and seed.

Drugs impair us
beyond repair
Lowly death
~Vs~ the highs of life
Does not compare
mind likes to travel
Body takes it there
remember this feeling
And for once in forever
Forget to care.

I sing because my heart is full;
I sing because my soul is free;
I sing because the love I feel for her
is such a lovely thing.

I'll write for her, ten thousand words;
I'll write for her, a thousand songs-
I'll write them in the hopes that
I can sing them to her all night long.

I hope your heart is full of peace;
I hope your soul is snug and warm-
for I'll be with you very soon,
to sing, you held close in my arms...

So ever since I was a kid,

I found myself chasing for the things I could never have.

The clothes I could never wear.

The things I could never eat.

The people I could never meet.

Never love. Never kiss. Never truly have.

The person I could never love.

The person I could never kiss.

I person I could never have.

You asked me today to let you go.

But how can I let you go, my love!

When I never had you at all!

You told me you loved me with all your heart.

That I’m a wild rose and I will always be yours,

And I believed you

Because at that moment – I know you meant it!

But sometimes love is not enough to keep two people together.

And I learned it the hard way,

When I never got the things I wanted.

When I never got the people I love.

And when I realized that every moment,

Every breath is just one more cry.

One more loss.

One more death.

And I feel like I’m a walking funeral

Of the death of all these incomplete wishes,

Oh! They are still haunting me.

You. You…

You are not one of those wishes.

Never was – never will.

You will always be with me.

And I’m talking about forever here.

You will be with me - like my heartbeat,

And my sight.

And my voice.

And my thoughts.

And my dreams.

My desires. My cravings. My soul.

I know that nothing lasts forever.

“Forever” is such a myth.

But in the last couple of days –

When you told me you love me,

Even with my flaws.

Especially with my flaw.

When you made me smile with just a text message.

When you kissed me Good night.

When you made me love myself.

When you made my world stop.

You gave me my little infinity,

In these last couple of days.

And no one can take that away from me.

Ever.

You will always be my

Little Infinity.

And soon, the day will come,

When all would be set and done!

When all the curtains between

Nothingness and vacuum will fall apart.

They will dig us back,

From the haunted grounds

And desolated cemeteries.

And our soul will dance

On the tongue of salvation!

Our cadavers –

Oh! They will look at each other,

Craving to touch,

To find their eternal ending.

But they will never touch their fingertips,

With each other.

And they will never be together!

Because the most beautiful things in this world

Are always destroyed. Always broken.

And they all would come and see us!

They would display our bodies

In museums and in exhibitions,

They would take tickets from people to see,

The longing and the pain

That would reside on our skeleton.

The longing for a forever that never came.

And from that day onwards, they would call us,

“The Lovers!”

“I love you,”

Was the last thing I wanted to say to you.

Before you walked away

And disappeared with the melting sunset.

When a part of me died with the broken bones

And the cracked ribs that produced an empty sound,

A nostalgic echo with the flawed beats of my heart.

So instead of letting you know,

How much I loved you –

I remained still and I choose to stay.

I stayed like the wrinkles of my bed

That unfolds themselves with your curves

And remains intact even in your absence.

I stayed like the roots of a winter tree

That never lifts up above the ground

And only choose to penetrate within

Until nothing remains to grow.

And I choose to stay,

Like a frozen chunk of ice

Or a heartless bronze statue;

Having a faraway look in my eyes –

Waiting for you to come back.

Waiting for you to turn.

Waiting to forgive you.

Because someone once told me,

That is what love is.

I look at you

And I see a faraway crafted look in your eyes

Searching for the infinity;

Looking for something that could only be seen,

But could never be felt.

Like a brief moment of solitude,

Or the cracking sound of hailstorms;

You think of me,

Like an unforgettable winter afternoon

Which creates a chill across your spine –

A chill which reaches to your soul

And makes it cold.

Colder.

You close those emerald eyes, and then

You think of me

And of the last time when we kissed,

And how I wrote from the touch of my lips

On your pearl white skin,

How much I love you.

How much I loved you.

But that touch seems like the memories

Of a different lifetime.

A life once lived, but now forgotten

With the thunderstorms of time.

You open your eyes and think of me.

One last time,

Before closing them again. Forever.

And would call me your lover.

A lost one.

Your immortal…

She gazed outside the window,
the sun falling on her eyes;
Her eyes full of dreams, full of reason,
but there was an emptiness,  an emptiness that couldn't be defined.
She gave a tiny laugh as she saw two young birds fly past.
The warm winter afternoon filled her heart
with a little happiness, a little sorrow, a little bit of...everything.
The sun made her feel beautiful, made her feel special.
Staring at it with closed eyes made her feel brave. Then why was it so incomplete?
Why did it all feel so, well....lost?

The crying sun
The moonless night.
The silent poetess
With words so bright.
The soft murmur
The gentle caress.
The careless whisper
Her silken dress.
She cries in dark
Her pain is veiled.
She puts in fear
A brave new face.
Those misty eyes
With tears like dew.
They speak to me
In words so few.
Her words flow
With unseen grace.
Her lips move
With mingled haste.
The silent poetess
Cries in vain.
For she finds none
To share her pain.

“The more you approach infinity, the deeper you penetrate terror.”
                                                                                 - Gustave Flaubert

He was like fire, a pyre of flames engulfing the darkness.
He burned brighter than the sun.
He cast shadows longer than an unending road.
He was a child of fear, and pain.
All his morbid desires took shape one day, and he felt alone.
Lost.
Gone.

She was like rain, a rush of calmness.
She had happiness in her eyes, and love in her heart.
She was a child of hope, and wisdom.
She met him, and all hell broke loose.
She quenched his thirst.
She broke him in the best of ways.
She completed him.

A silent whisper of freshness.
A breath.
Life.
They were infinite together.

Girl: "I wish tomorrow was Tuesday. Oh God."
Boy: "Erm. Tomorrow's Tuesday."
Girl: "Chup reh. I wish tomorrow was Saturday. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee".

There she was, standing in the rain.

I held my hand out.
She dug her hands deep inside her pocket.

We both looked at the grass-
There was a sharp line.

I took a step forward.
She took a step back.

I listened to the sound of thunder,
She heard the raindrops thud against the ground.

I tried to talk.
She just shook her head.

I clutched at her red overcoat.
She just shook it off, and ran.

I cried out in desperation.
She never turned back.


"I was always holding onto people, and they were always leaving. "

What do you do when your illusions shatter?
When someone who you thought was your dearest
closest friend, the one who could rely on...
Shows again and again that she doesn't care?
That she isn't who you thought she was
Or maybe she's grown up, grown apart, grown different?
What do you do if you still care?
If you reach out your arms to eyes that don't see them?
Plead to ears that don't want to hear?
How long do you stay in place, arms open?
Wait and wait for your turn to talk?
How do you believe that it's over?
How do you deal when the friend you thought would always listen
Brushes away your deepest, humiliating fears with a laugh?
Who shrugs when you told her you needed her, and she wasn't there?
Shrugs because of course -- of course! -- her life is
more important than your own. Her sorrows more tragic.
You are merely to profit from her examples.
How do you react when you realize
this person who thinks she knows you so well
Doesn't know you at all? Barely as much as that stranger
You just met, but who listens when you tell them what you want
And who you are. Who thinks of you as a person
Not someone who should reside in her head.
How difficult it is to let go of an illusion
Even though you've been lonely for so long
To abandon hope is another thing altogether
To turn your back on the past and break
those fragile threads. To look ahead and
Never look back again.
There is no shatter as if of broken glass
Fragile but till now protected.
No cry of anguish except in one heart.
And that's not audible. But if
You listen closely, you might hear
The last threads of fabric tear.

I'm tired of being the one who listens.
I'm tired of being the one who calls.
The one who ends silences.
The one who breaks down walls.



The one who never shows anger.
The one who never asks.
And the one who will remember
But wear a smiling mask.



Old friends are better than new.
They know you without needing to ask.
But I wish that sometimes you
would, even if you know, still ask.



I'm tired of the distances.
Of having to work at keeping it alive.
Excuse me my absences:
I may - or may not - be back in a while.

Turn off the light,
Close your eyes,
Trying to sleep,
At the day’s demise.
Think of your day,
All the people you met,
Pick a special moment,
Mark the date.
Think of the future,
Or maybe the next day,
Of all your plans,
And how to make a way.
Think of someone,
Their eyes, their smile,
Think of their words,
Whether they hurt or beguile.
Think of the past,
Of your childhood,
Think of all the people,
Who helped you into adulthood.
Imagine possible situations,
Maybe cry a bit,
Lose yourself to sleep,
‘Till, again, the world is lit.