"Be careful who you call a King"**

All the romantic girls want a 'knight in shining armour'
All princesses want some noble king to sweep them off their feet
All the bad girls want a rebel who's mean with lots of green
Well... I'm all three

I want the joker
Who can outwit the knight in a fight with only his words
Who can make the king laugh with accents and gestures so absurd
Who can cause the rebel to cry and fly away like a scared little bird
I want the joker

I'm a poet
I need the joker to take away the sadness in the words I write
I need the joker to willingly fight for me with his own life
I need the joker to stand tall and proud, yet admit when he's not right
I need the joker to love me fully, unbiasedly and with all his might
I'm a poet

Knights are overrated
Kings are old and outdated
Rebels are deathly fated

Jokers are an eternity
Cause laughter can surely never die
Jokers are everything
Cause my heart will surely never cry

I think I understand hookups and one-night stands now.

The key to moving on is to replace all that stood before
until there stands nothing that may cause you to unravel.

Moment by moment,
conversation by conversation,  
I replace the replays,
I can't bear the thought
of another touching me, like I'm not yours.

I got another ring today, all big and loose.
It's funny how I picked this one,
it keeps slipping off my fingers like you did.
It's been two months since I last wore your ring.
I don't see a difference between them,
it feels the same on my thumb.
and that should be the end of it,
but oh well, I guess it isn't.

I walked to the grocery store, paused at an aisle,
took my time frowning over chocolate bars.
You used to get me Munch, and so I picked the Mars bar.

I don't skip meals now, (well, most days I don't)
and in place of our routine conversations,
I play a random show.

I drown noise with noise.

My days are decent.
I'm surrounded by mindless jibber jabber.
I participate.
I paste a bright smile.

“You look well now,” they say,
“Well, I am” I reply.
And I am fine. (I think I am?)
9/10 times I am.

Then in a random mundane moment,
memories of you resurface like a ring light and
in that single moment,
I let myself crumble.

“I don't want him back.
He's changed now.
So have you and so what?
If it's meant to be, it'll be.
He's the love of my life.
Well don't let him in,
when (not if) he comes back.

Do it from love, not for it.
You deserve happiness.
Both of you do.

You want love.
You are love.
The ocean doesn't look for its water,
Why will you look for what you have?

It is what it is.
and this too shall pass.”

So on and so forth my inner monologue goes on,
and I stare at my phone wondering if I can conjure you from my thoughts.

I am kinder now.
With myself, and everyone around.
I wish I were kinder to you, but I was just a child.

I know you're proud,
and I am of you too.

Do you think I can sculpt my favourite version of you?
Wait, no.
I already did that,
I loved all of you
and then everything fell apart.

My thoughts swirl and I let them play.
Incantations in my head
Obligatory 3 am, weary sighs, contempt and rage.
Oh, so much rage.
Where is the calming lull of sleep, when you need it to sedate your despair?

Resignation sets in, I play a familiar game.
I ask the universe and unbiasedly it delivers the same day.

"Universe, give me a sign, I'm really done this time.
Yellow flowers if he's coming back,
Dandelions if he's not.
Universe let me move on. This is the last time, "

In my version of He loves me, he loves me not
I break flowers, not petals.

I look for answers in colours and not action,
And then I saw a dozen Dandelions.

"I'm a big fan of the way you breathe," I said.
He smiled.
Anyone else would be taken aback and thrown my loneliness into my face.
"I appreciate the fact that you exist," I continued.
His eyes looked at my eyes, but that wasn't the whole story. Not quite.
Because once the delicious visual receptors in his gummy pink brain
receive my Natalie signal of recognition,
it's as if his linguistic region wants to talk to the operator in my linguistic region,
and they strike up a lovely lively convo
about colors, and the weather, and how **** fine the oxygen feels today.
He never says much
with his sounds or voice box,
maybe because his voice box is sore,
or maybe because he's embarrassed of his voice,
or maybe still because his neural impulses and chemical signals
can not be properly conveyed with the noises and syllabel patterns found in a human language.
I like to think
that his thinking is so complex yet pure and beautiful
that any other mind could not possibly comprehend or appreciate its magnitude.
I like to think that he has every answer to every inquisition ever;
he is omniscient. Other-worldy.
A religion in his own
who does not wish to save others but to merely observe, unbiasedly
and make me sink into the depths of admiration
and flood my bloodstream with oxytocin.
What a man.

I watch the clock as the hours pass
on relentlessly
another night wide awake
as my mind begs for the relief of sleep
unable to think clearly

I watch him and I wonder what
dreams flicker behind his lids
his chest at such a steady rate
I inch closer hoping his peace
would somehow enter me

Atleast one of us can escape to
the beauty of a subconscious plane
where the pain and the worry ceases
and the day ends mercifully

I am so scared of what tomorrow may bring
I am holding onto the night for security
but time unbiasedly keeps dragging me
to a day of answers or more anxiety

He says no matter what he'll stay with me
in a way this brings comfort to me
but it's something I find hard to believe
considering he's always dreamt of having a family

I am*
the Turtle
that pulls its head in
just for somewhere to rest

the Ostrich
with head in the sand
at the first sign
of protest

the Sloth
slovenly sitting
unbiasedly
in whatever tree
that holds me

A dolphin, a whale
a rhinoceroses
without fail
disappearing
from those who hunt me

Extinction is a four letter word
but it's inevitable, you see?

Because I'm all them, but not
I occupy the same Universe but
I forgot, there are creatures
less fortunate than me

Often  like them, I'm hunted
for the colour of my skin,
for my difference of opinion
admired to the point of deadliness
But existence is my only sin
It's difficult to be me
Where do I begin?

you know things about me that unsettle you
you've seen me in pitiful states and in proud ones
when I emerged from rooms in tears over nothing that awful
you looked at me, no judgement, only wondering

you've seen me for my selfishness, my neglect and awkwardness
and still
you embrace the parts of me that lapse into fits and fall behind
you have your own problems but still care about mine
how are you so gentle to someone so unkind

you are my blessing
you are a miracle without having to try
the shards in your life are more piercing than mine
and still
you take care making sure my fingers are fine

you're sugar, spice and everything nice,
you're lovely and brave and oh, so kind

I should have paid more attention that it wasn't special treatment

you're lovely and brave and unbiasedly kind
you're sugar, spice and tragically nice

that day in the church I saw you in white
tending to a girl with eyes resembling mine
and a heart, believe me, even smaller than mine

that sunday I was shaken with a tender feeling
like jubilee bells ringing on a fearful june evening

you're a home to the homeless
and a beacon for many
definitely god-sent,
Jesus of Nazareth you were to plenty

you're so nice it laces my chest with a curious ache
I know your affection is more than I should take
you were— you are, my good old hearth
fireplaces were built to be shared in parts

I pray once in a while, giving thanks for you
for the tissues and bandaids and warmth that you bring
and if life itself isn't already a miracle for you,
I hope one day you get yours too

Reflective surfaces are a circus of perspectives
And when choice’s thrown in the fray
One can see oneself in either
Disillusioned or disenfranchised superlatives.
Better pastime is fancying how many stars make up the Milky Way.

What if we could stand outside of ourselves?
Solely to look at us unbiasedly
With new chaste unblemished eyes
What would we see?
Well who knows really?

It is worth a try though
A stand-alone moment in ones shoes
A little disruptive hiccup in one’s usual flow
Just to ruminate over one’s many hues.

are you the one sent
   a new one
this one is special
    this one is different
will you woo me until i fall unabashedly
unadulterated, and unbiasedly
in love with you?
only to toss me to the curb
when i no longer amuse you?
and then will my pain
bring you pleasure
a pleasure that will expand,
even further,
your side splitting, bloated ego?

i've given in to better
   i've been left by the best
you are one of many
that i can tuck into the pocketbook of my heart
to bring out and look at
when my soul need a little bruising.

Seasons gradually shift into one another until they return to their natural state of existence.
Cycles of change that are an inherent testament to the cumulative passing of my oldest friend, time.
She has stood by patiently through trial and triumph, and unbiasedly forced progression in everyone she's touched.
With constancy her lungs take in the past, heart beats life, and she breathes out death.
All that is known has experienced her and all that will be will feel her closely.
She is all that is loved and feared. She is.

The younger brother must pay for the pleasures of her elder brother
Said Jane Austen.
She overshot the mark by far.
13 considered an unlucky number .the number of years between me and my brother.
Heard from my mother about his visits to the hospital
By blood  a brother
Caring,  a father.
Shepherding a Godfather.


An alumni, his reputation
Got me admission
Into a school
Of great reputation.
Trips to school
Sitting on the back of his bullet
Oldest memories i can recall
Never have I felt safest.


Falling sick  became a   habit .
Month long stays at the infirmary.
An annual practice.
Jaundice  Typhoid and Tonsils
Flat feet and almost blind
Visits to the doctor a daily grind.
Nursing  and tending he  became  my shield
A lifetime's time  spent on rehabilitation
All this by the time i was only seven


There is no time like old times
He is he lens i see my past through
He was my superhero
Fought all my battles without a cape
Bullies teachers friends
Never let me feel the pain
Stood in front and fought them all
In a jiffy at my beck and call
Unforgettable lessons to them thought
Daily a dilemma
Relentless in nature
Defending became his  dogma.
In a tight spot
Riding shotgun and pounding the beat
Helped handle  hard hitting heat .
From brother to alter ego to friend and hero
I did not live in his shadow
I did in his glow


Movies he watched
Music he listened
Paved the path
Deep inside my heart
Formed an impression
Became a passion
Obsession became collection
Driving force of my  existence
It is he who funds it in abundance



Poles apart and polarised
Brutally honest and  unbiasedly truthful
Clashed with my half truths and slight stretches.
Evolved soon into deception , deceit  subterfuges
Past Consigned to oblivion ,emerged a battle of wits
Of which i had none and was at its end
Perception principle and policy
Even the nazis and jews seemed friendly



Critical of me in entirety
Tried with all sincerity
To get me on the path of honesty
Which i resisted defiantly


America a catalyst
Squabbles became a feud
My ambitions were high
Made everyone sigh
Presumed wrongly
I went ahead unabashedly
Lack of clarity
Detached from reality
Suicide more sensible option
Rather than to give a visa petition.
Blissfully unaware
Wishful thinking leads nowhere
Embassy ended my dream ,which
Deserved only to remain a dream


Frustration grew and rants followed
Shouting matches throughout echoed
Decibels enough to din an orchestra
Constant blaming became the final straw.


Led a life of decadence
My life result of subversion
Others realising their dream
Was an act of treason.


Bottled up anger
Lack of esteem
Feeling sorry
Life at crossroads
Dreams distant
Pushing the pedal
On the highway to hell.


Pursued me duly
Followed Epictetus
Enviable job handed on a platter.
Asking friends a favor
Did not seem to matter
Emerged a decent career.
Took care of the next decade plus one  year


Having a problem with his mentor
Did not make matters better
My version ruined his career
Fathers dreams destroyed
Mother's sacrifices laid to waste
False hopes and rainbow promises
Had him in hospital with a broken neck
Carefully built education scuttled
Six years wasted
Fruits of which till today tasted.
His only mistake
Cause he wouldnt forsake
His main flaw
A man of his intellect should have foresaw.
I did my best
To no avail ,Only bitterness prevailed







Never one to forego the past
Gratitude just a mask
A night of drunken rage
Rather unfortunate
Words spoken with hate
Kept us apart for a decade.



Uniqueness separates oneness
Still poles apart
Not as distant in the past
Contrast and contradictions
twelfth or never


I needed a father and a mother
Only to provide for me a   brother.
Not always eye to eye
Not always  heart to  heart
Final truth ,by being apart
I will not not one day last