Self aware yet numb
How-to instructions to know
How to feel be loved.

love can be
complicated
in a good
or bad way
it can change
in a second
just by the words
that you say
and turn quick
on a dime
and turn bright skies
dark grey,  
instantaneous
darkness
even in day
its amazing
when love
when it goes
far away,
an the heart
is not something
with which you
should play,

an so,
like a double
edged sword
it can cut like
a blade
in the flash
of a moment
is down your
heart laid
from the
true sacrifices
an the debt
that you paid
to heavy
to bear it
what the
heaviness
weighed
spreading
and luxate
in pieces
now splayed
grasping
the light dear
as it slowly
can fade
smothering
all false hope
from the hands
that you prayed
wondering why
the heart-
how it strayed?
an regardless of cost
your love you'll
not trade
all you
remember
is the love
that you made
an the person
you love so
is just hidden in shade
unattractive they look,
in an envious jade,
but your still at their side
in sweet comfort an aid
to shelter in all storms
when they feel so afraid
only to find out
it is but masquerade
perhaps some
crazy ideas
that you hadn't obeyed
now just wasting
your time
on a journey delayed
an really not funny
is this type of charade
leaving all
of your nerves
an well everything
frayed
just seeping
through all
yes in all to pervade
as false rumors swirl
an how you are portrayed
then finally a flash
wow,
dead like grenade,
now only to bury
that thing with a *****

but just before-
you do,
you stare-
empty
into the dark
of that abyss
why oh my
mercurial fate
why'd you give me
such a kiss?
all I really wanted
was a chance
at true love bliss?
you  **** it all to hell

an then you fixate
on all the broken promises
pieces of requiem
left in the wake
of that explosion
living amidst the wreckage
like the movie called  inception
to die within a dream?

oh the dear carnage,
you lie awaiting your death too,

wondering what
in the beautiful world
you knew,
could have went
so tragically
tragically wrong?

Ma Cherie © 2017

Yesterday some files got stolen
Felt a numbness for long
As if some part of life got erased
No one said its coming, Alzheimer's; not a virus
Ironically, the latest to lose was,
The one on, 'Mitigating Risks'

A 'Stolen Report' was filed
The format wanted a lot of details
What, when, where and how
Penning them down was a struggle
After all, the life lost was beyond
"Time" and "Space", for Alzheimer

Life said "I can't bear this tension,
Pray hard to get those stolen things back"
Some random thoughts, some arguments,
Some evidence, some case law
Some reminders, some proofs, some records
"God, be kind enough to get me those- random thoughts back"

Yesterday I got robbed of:
My unblemished, false pride of never losing
My faith in "big brother" to watch me, over
My pseudo faculties of intuitions
My blind faiths in miracles, and
My impulses to get worked up

Yesterday, as I retired,
Rewinding the day and that dusk
My soul murmured to me
"5 o' clock will come anyway
Relish, those robbed by the stolen files.

(all rights with author)

My November comes conceiving sorrows
Despite layers over layers, the **** shows
Pregnant sorrows are like still borne children
And still borne children, the fiction of the unaware
Always stuck in that muddle of grief,
Not begun; yet not leaving

Out here, November Nights gain an hour
And, my sleeplessness too
Y'day night I woke up in three tunnels of time
As if, passing through some corridors and trapped
Somewhere; for a long time

I feel an envious abandon to
All those trees that felled their leaves
Through the trees and felled leaves
November gives me a cold lonely road
To tread, more backwards than ahead...

Mired lines mar the November vision
Can insinuations offer 'clarity on Intentions?'  
Fall fells a lot, below the bare branches
Awaits a lot of leaves, crushed hopes and dreams
I lay bare, awaiting this November to turn over

@ all rights with Author

Go to five more unknown lands
Collect a talisman from everywhere
Then climb the steps to the quietest place
You will find your cherished wish there
Fully blossomed; Strobilanthes,  the wonder
That blooms once every 12 years

In that quietest corner of the climb
When you find me- your treasure
Never come close to me,
For closer to the desire, I am different
Let me be the third talisman with the unfold magic
And, "thy shall not beret my indifference"

"But why you call me indifferent
Didn't you see the Gazette, off late?"
Life in her wide eyes darted through me...
"A decree was issued that you cannot
Feel Indifference unless I admit to it
Find your talisman- may be I am your unknown land"

Innate travel through time and mind zones;
Bereft of the sleep and the dreams, me-
Forgetting to remember me-self;
How can I remember to forget you?!
Don't put words into my mouth
You are the fifth talisman of an unknown land

December tells me "dart further and farther"
To unknown lands for talisman's blessings
" Get over the fence you made in these years
The fence cannot keep out, anyone willing
The fence cannot keep in, anyone wanting
The line you have drawn was in water...

So, here comes me, in search of the talisman
Off the fences, for you to invite and venture.
An year full of drum beat journey behind
In search of the quietest place of tranquil  
Thank you December, the wind you blew,
I keep these in my heart and mind for ever

Turning inward for a new year of inner peace...

(All copy rights with the Author)

I again got stuck in the bridge today
In the Upper Plateau bridge-
The bridge  across  the lagoon.
Stuck, with no breathing space to manoeuvre
All three lanes facing forward, chock a block
Cars of all sizes and costs strewn around

It's always like that, faced ahead on the wheel
Neither space to turn left to see anything right;
Nor to the right, for anything left...
When on the steering wheel
You are responsible, not just for your actions;
But the whole world around.
For the car in the front, back and the
Sides, who cannot move until you move.
Slowly you realise, 'it was never a
Bridge across for ever"

There has been this urge,
Many a time, to break out and run, though
You are stuck in the bridge, no room to
manoeuvre
Often it's like a circle eating itself;
Beginning losing the end and vice versa!

But then comes the thoughts of the school fees, the maintenance, the rent and the upkeep
You are stuck on the bridge, mate
Stay put, until the snarls open its own


--------////
All rights reserved (c) A K Kalesh Kumar 2016

"There is something in you"

"Do not tell me it's the state of my mind that
Crave for meaningful commitments
Do not tell me, our doors are mutually exclusive,
That cannot open to same pathway"

I am in the make and modes of that solitary *****
Who does not know what is the gift of the given moment.
Who does not know whether the next breath is life or not having it anymore.

I am the ***** living life on the edges when not in the fringes!
With desultory realms of engagements,
Let me avoid that growing sarcastic curve on your face
When "my passions are flimsy"; why define the adulations any lower!

So my 'distant untouched enigma';
Do not be dismayed at this callous, rantings of mine;
I have done with many  futile 'serious' talkathons...
Ignore me as a silly, frivolous thought
Flew in and darted away in an afternoon siesta

That journey from Morgue was hardly an hour and a half
But my travail took me through thirty years,
Holding his cradle tight, lest to wake him up from that eternal sleep

As he was laid in that ambulance all dressed up for his final journey,
He looked the smart, tall "Chettan ", unlike the child I tended a month back
Forlorn in some early childhood shores, courtesy the Alzheimer's

A bump ahead on the road shook the ambulance and me from my thoughts
In a reflex, my hands went to hold him from falling from the cradle
An eerie chill went through my spine, he was ice cold- the body was in Morgue for long

Water soaks through his new shirt, ice melts in the outside heat
“Chettan” who stood so tall for you to always looked up to…
Who came with abundance in his back pack every Friday

With his Murphy radio playing melodies deep in to the nights
With his cloak work precisions for breakfast to dinner times
With his grins and growls that moved the moods of “Chechi ”

Have you ever tried to feel a body from the morgue?
An ice cold, motion less, sensor less body
That moment and the eerie chill is a revelation
Death is so penetratingly cold
That you wish you don’t have senses to feel it anymore

Ambulance halted at the large assemblage of mourners
I stepped out, a furious movie flash back playing in that ‘space within my heart’
He laid there- ice cold; waiting to be escorted, to the pyre;
With that space within his heart gone to a void, unwittingly

- all rights reserved

“Sir, this mole seems to be growing and spreading”
Suhail stopped the scissor and comb, and said
“It’s a bit grown than last month and even then, I noticed it spreading”

Suhail is my hair stylist for the last about six years
I have seen him growing from a Hair Analyst to Specialist to Senior Hair Specialist
There is something more than the generous tip that connects us
May be my willingness to abide by his experiments with my hair
Or reciprocation of loyalty that bound us every month

Surprised, I asked him, “What mole are you talking about?”
“Don’t you know the black mole on the back side of your left ear” puzzled Suhail
“You go and check with Madam, may be its my feeling only”

“How would madam know about it Suhail, she doesn’t cut my hair!”
“Arre Sir, you too!” Suhail had a vicious smile on his face
“Come on tell me” I prodded him with the same viciousness
We got into wayward pastime …

“Arre, Sir, they get to see it…
When you lay down on her lap in those afternoons
And she combs your hair with her fingers
And when you fall into that muddle of sleepiness and excitement
Her eyes would lock it”

“Arre, Sir, they get to see it…
When she comes from the back as on paws of a cat
Hugs and hold you tight with her hands
And press her face on your shoulder
Her eyes would lock it”

“Arre, Sir, they get to see it…
When those drenched lips move away from your lips
And the craving teeth leave a hickey on that earlobe,
Her eyes would lock it”

Suhail finished the haircut and I left tipping him as usual
The drive back home searched through the labyrinths of memories
Of caressing fingers, tight hugs and hickeys
Why didn’t she mention that mole, ever?

“Honey, you never told about that Mole,
Come on, let me see and let’s go to a Dermatologist quickly
We can’t take these things lightly; the doctor may even suggest a biopsy
Biopsy is fully covered in your mediclaim, isn’t it?”