i hate you
i hate you
i ******* hate you so much

every ounce of me loathes every ounce of you
you used me like a napkin, dirtied me all up
and got rid of me like it was nothing

you got rid of me

i can't believe i loved you. maybe it was
your smile
the one you gave to only me

or your stupid ******* hair
how it curls right there at the scalp
and looks so ******* disgusting, and i love it

maybe it was how alone you felt
and how alone i felt
and how un-alone we felt together

but i ******* hate you
i hate you
i hate you so much that i can't breathe
i hate you so much that

even if skies collided and the sun
swallowed itself whole
i still wouldn't be able to stop
telling you how insignificant you are

but after all,
i hate most of all how
i still ******* love you

English Transliteration - Satya Sarvopari Sarvaat

Jhoot bolna aam ** gaya, par mahimaa satya ki kam naa aanknaa,
Bheetar ki naitiktaa ko, vivek-nayan se zaroor jhaank naa...

Man aur vani ki akhandta, vibhakt ** ne naa denaa,
Jhoot par avalambit **, swa-nistha khone naa denaa...

Kapat aacharan ko apnakar, aarthik sukh hi paaoge,
Sabal charitra banaa lo gar, toh nityaanand tak jaaoge...

Vani par jiske satya sadaa, vachan shakti siddh hogi,
Mukh se upji har shabdaavali, vaastav mein sanghatit hogi...

Abhisandhi ka gar karo prayog, jo logo ko sambhramit kare,
Toh unki nahi, tumhaari mithya, jo aatm ko hi dooshit kare...

Jab jab kanth kare dhwani, prajwalit ** satyajyoti se har baat,
Jhoot gaun samaksh uske, satya sarvopari sarvaat...

- - - - -

English Translation - Truth is above everything

Speaking lies have become common, but don't underestimate the significance of Truth,
Do peep into your inner morality through the eyes of conscience...

Do not let the integrity of Mind & Speech be dissected,
By adhering onto fallacy, do not let your self morale be lost...

By embracing fraudulent behavior, you will only get monetary pleasure,
But if you build a brawny (strong) Character, you will go till Eternal Happiness (Salvation) ...

The one who always has Truth on his Speech, the force of oration will become effectual,
Every vocabulary out from his mouth, will constitute into Reality...

If you do use deceit, for misapprehending the people,
Then the illusion is not theirs, but yours, for it pollutes your own self...

When ever the throat makes sound, let every talk be illuminated with the light of Truth,
Lie is inferior in front of it, Truth is above every thing...

- - - - -

Original Poem - सत्य सर्वोपरि सर्वात्

झूठ बोलना आम हो गया, पर महिमा सत्य की कम ना आंकना।
भीतर की नैतिकता को, विवेक-नयन से ज़रूर झांकना।।

मन और वाणी की अखंडता, विभक्त होने ना देना।
झूठ पर अवलंबित हो, स्वनिष्ठा खोने ना देना।।

कपट आचरण को अपनाकर, आर्थिक सुख ही पाओगे।
सबल चरित्र बना लो गर, तो नित्यानंद तक जाओगे।।

वाणी पर जिसके सत्य सदा, वचन-शक्ति सिद्ध होगी।
मुख से उपजी हर शब्दावली, वास्तव में संघटित होगी।।

अभिसंधि का गर करो प्रयोग, जो लोगो को संभ्रमित करे।
तो उनकी नहीं, तुम्हारी मिथ्या, जो आत्म को ही दूषित करे।।

जब जब कंठ करे ध्वनि, प्रज्वलित हो सत्यज्योति से बात।
झूठ गौण समक्ष उसके, सत्य सर्वोपरि सर्वात्।।

© Poem by Manas Madrecha

He’s a social chameleon.
He is whoever you want
Whenever you want it
And he’s glad to flaunt it.
He serves me Doctor Pepper
In a crystal champagne flute
And whistles heavy metal
In a double-knit pantsuit
Since he dresses from yard sales
In cheap period clothes
Everybody seems to know him
Wherever he goes.

But, they don’t know his name
Only his audacious style
That either runs people off
Or makes them smile.
He only cares for opinions
That make him happy inside
And assumes any criticism
Is because somebody lied.
He dances like a club kid
But is well into middle age.
He knows all the song lyrics
That are the current rage.

He makes his money painting
HIs canvases of chaos
Covered with a thousand splashes
Of house paint in gloss.
He says they are like music
Each color has a separate tone
And if you can’t enjoy his art
Then leave him the hell alone.
He’s skinny, but delicate
With the bone structure of gods
You’ll not have seen his type before
I will lay you bookable odds.

His one solid weakness
And everybody knows
Is that he sings all the time
And everywhere he goes.
That would be quite lovely
But he can’t carry a tune.
So he looks like an old photo
And makes noises like a loon.

I love observing a stranger's mannerisms,
they tell a story of their own.

You can memorize a thousand lines
And you can make a thousand people laugh
You can give time and a half
You can invite people to a world they’ve never been
You can fill their faces with mile long grins
You can hear the thunder of an applause
As hoots and hollers come out their jaws
But when the crowd leaves
When they take away their energy like thieves
It is then that you must return to yourself
When you must return to the person you are
And remember every single emotional scar
When your character goes to sleep
It is you who will have to weep
So you can memorize every line
You can do everything to make your character shine
But when the lights go out
Then you’ll be given back all of your doubt
Yet
If you decide that the lines are who you are
And you’re willing to go too far
Then perhaps the character never went to sleep
Maybe all you are is your characters built into a heap

I have a wish
I wish everybody had a blank face
until we come to the point
that we know we genuinely love them
so we would not base our love for one another on appearance
but on our inward display

I picked up that old
leather bound book
and realise the journey
as I sit here and look,

I feed on the narrative
with newly wide eyes,
I look forward to words
that will thrill and surprise.

The story progresses
as continuous phrases
set characters free
with each turn of the pages.

Personality's form
the more that I read
and the more that I see
then the more that I need.

My mind is awash
with this tale in my mind
as I continuously
leave the real world behind.

Lost in a new place,
succumbed by an age,
entranced by the images
that leap from the page.

This old leather bound book
fights a war that is won
for I cannot put it down
till this journey is done.

I like to do those quizzes
in glossy bubbles that you
find
in Cosmopolitan and
Elle and
Seventeen.

Which girl should I be?

Should I
dump paper flowers
on my milkmaid braid?
Long skirts, long chains, and
Beatles on my radio
during their ‘Indian’ phase?

Should I
paint it all
black, strip life down to
a *******,
blare punk at full
scream,
and cram my toes in ratty Docs,
smash all emotion
into smithereens?

Should I
sugar-coat my mouth with
Maybelline, button up
collars, laughs, opinions,
read books on behaving
just like a
daydream,
sip teas, bake cookies, aim for
Ivy Leagues?

Which gilded box do I crawl
into?
Which skin to don
this week?
Which fashion editor-friendly
stereotype to fulfil?

Which girl should I be?

You’re snoring lightly, your jaw unhinged slightly, the little dipper of freckles on your shoulder peeking out from behind your sheets.  The constellation I used to connect the dots to before you woke up.  You’d throw the pen at my face, trying to keep your frown firm, but you’d crack and jump on my back as I ran from you down the hall.  Merlin licking his paws, scrutinizing us from the doorway.  As your legs wrapped themselves comfortably around my waist, twisting to my front I’d kiss your neck and you’d make that sound like warm whiskey.
I wish I could be with you when you wake up tomorrow.  But your mother says its bad luck.
Just promise me you’ll still walk down the aisle if you wake up with my handy work on your shoulder.
                                                       ­                                                               I love you,
                                                            ­                                                                  David