There is comfort in being right
There is structure in being wrong
There is mirth in being solicitous
There is deafness in being agent
There is fear in being passive
There is joy in being forgetful
There is peace in being truthful
There is freedom in being incomplete

There is a confusion there.
And perhaps that is a good thing.
Like a friend once told me
As we were sitting cross legged
During lunch break in school
In the 6th grade
Of a summer which you were glad to bear
Math comes with practice.
And that the many stupid things I did
Could still be polished
under the glow of my otherwise good grades
I have always felt stupid. And more than awkward
But I know I am not stupid. Even though I am awkward.

I am not sitting here
waiting for the right time and correct way
to be able to clean dishes
and clear the table
for you say so, " right away"
no *****. That's what I think of you
you are a racist little *****
no sense of respect
for me
and hence I have no case or reason to respect you
now or ever
never

you sir
I owe much to
I love you even
for all those times
you were here for me
and that you talked to me
a lonely broken broken hearted numb girl
and you made me feel special
and you made me feel valued
and you made me feel loved
and you made me feel respected
and you are an art an art form an artist
oh you are
yes you are

tonight i feel numb
I feel shocked slighted hurt downcast
by how small and ****** and lonely and ugly and evil
people can be
how deceptive and vulgarly so
they do things for the sake of appearances
when they know
and those who know them, know
that all of this is an act
that it means nothing
how smally they choose to sepd their life
and oh how lonely

It feels like someone
has pulled out my heart
ripped it out of my chest
with ruthless spite
and drained it in poison
so that it dies
It hurts.
And I hope it dries out in the sun
and beats and pumps with
pure clean vitality
once again
after I put it back
I hope and wait
and pray
for it to heal.

I am confused
about life which was a wondeful dream
a romantic discovery, expedition, forest maze
with grand narratives fossil minds mysteries and power struggles
i wanted to find out the absurdities of the world , of people, of the human .mind
lest i seem to have stumbled , quite loudly , in a planned un awkward manner
that nothing is abstract ,only the stories you find you create
you decide to say
to yourself ,and the stories you watch out ,listen to.
and the wonder re returns
and that makes me happy.

love is like a fungus
beautiful like an umbrella mushroom
and sticky like mould on bread
and nefarious mad like psilobycin
and scary like an aluminium cage .conditions apply.

so you may not like me
but it's maybe cause you are afraid of that thing being in you
or you may just not like me.
(oh p.s. , by the way ,your superior attitude, or inferiority complex
waits to glint out
and break like crystal)

you may not like me
you may think i am disarrayed
or alien
or disgusting
i do not mind.
i like myself.
it's an unconditional love.
arrogance if you will.
i am with me honey.
so you can leave.

I am lost in the loose ended threads which make my life;
they weld me down along glistening metal lanes
with screws and nuts and bolts once in a while ,
rather carelessly with a callow scraping grip,
perhaps it's a young apprentice
inexperienced in dealing with insubordination
to fix me in my place.

sometimes these threads look like faceless feelings,
pre-emptive if you will,
sometimes they look like ununderstandings by me or others
sometimes they look like despots called people
sometimes they look like elevators built around caves of people
shedding tears and hides.

So yes ,sometimes the metal feels like the deep cold of the sea.
powdered with nuts and bolts forgotten in the hazy blue saline,
but probing my shaky heart and my remoulding mind like frosty bullets.
Overrun with senseless weeds from inside,
and grim from ruins of  lost ships
and here and there with inviting treasures
worthwhile, anew
in the cascades of worldliness of all things beautiful.

sometimes the metal feels like the lullaby of the sea
sedating almost,
amidst the wilderness of conflicts ,jarring bronze contradictions
and of course, the ever so ubiquitous, soupy shallow free floating worldly wise grime.

while other times oy romantics,
it feels like a fish net topping me from reaching out
to places and peoples and experiences of this world.

twirling around her own shadows
in the light raining around
the leaves of trees tall and straggling
brisk undulating jungle breaths  
cruising

to all those who tell you that they think they know the important
to all those who are hurt, damaged, unrequited, unattended, un understood, un developed
to all those who know not what they like, want, look for,
to all those who haven't read ,travelled,seen,experienced,talked,listened -far and wide,near and close
to all those who haven't  developed spine, brain,mind,heart, in wholesome dashes
to all those who haven't wronged, erred, fallen, broken, stooped,stood up, stood,learnt, righted,
to all those who know not that they be deeply unaware of ignorance
to all those who lack CURIOSITY, WONDER,AWE,
to all those,
stop.

Dear sir,
With you effusive competence
And that big heart
Like the sky
With a lightness
That I don’t know.
And I don’t know
pervades or stands-
the ceaseless litany forged by the world
of your ‘’ failings of being’’,
gives me hope for the world indeed.

That child’s beam
A saucer smile;
Eyes a grave green
like a steely forest night
With memories of dire darkness
And wolves and fear;

Like a rosy sky
Working a soft pink
That feels like velvet on a winter morning;
And dreams of laying along with the freshness
Of the companionable grass
On a warm spring day
And love revised, anew.
Like a rosy sky
Working a soft pink
From the sun’s gold,
I don’t know after forgetting
or remembering
The sharpness of
serrated edges of lightning bolts
on many a lonely damp night.
I think I have a bit of a crush,
You know, the kind that resembles loveliness
The kind that reminds me, every now and again,
about life and things;
The kind that makes me smile and be gay without reason

as i sit there in the middle
of the classroom full of people
looking around with languid pretense
sometimes careful scrutiny
almost like an owl
and then i see
a little smile
a warm inviting gaze
a friendly almost wave
of hand
and i
smile back.

there were things
i had never imagined
i would understand
be; experience
and gape bemusedly at my
unbelieving ambiguous eyes
in the unnoticeably clear
smiling mirror of the bathroom.

things such as
being a creep

the creep whose wandering eye
wanders just a wee bit longer.
A microsecond length of
the not-understood, the suspicious,the dubious
the curious sometimes,
but really mostly nefarious lunatic, perhaps...?

the creep whose teeth clench into a
smile.
the lips parting
but only
Mendaciously...perhaps..?

the creep who peers into me
like a god
scouring my precious little secrets
my hurt points,
my loci of scandalous innocuous things
meant to be inside of me
for my self.

the creep who infringes
on my warm bed
of Safety.

***
*******
erectile dysfunction
sneer
******
*****
me
father
mother
weirdity
all the complexes

that make you Feel

like a spider
whose web is shattered with
but an uncaring finger.

power.
Uncaring Callousness

terrifying in it's brutality
intent ,
and things beyond .

the creep peers in.

but i was only trying
to make friends.
a bit too hard , perhaps...?

oh the creeps of the world
i understand thy plight
the fact that you never understand
what you are
doing
but only after it has passed
that the black hole irises
of un-understanding visages
come to you
to inform you
that you have been
a creep, the Creep.

it came like a vague pain
long lost in the beating of time
a realisation
an information
an unpleasant realism
like suddenly noticing that the
man who comes to make the gardens beautiful
is always in rags of clothes
and that the man who drives little children
to despotic schools
has his teeth charred with cheap cigarettes
and that enormous sadness in the yellow eyes
thinking every day
of his mother who has bad lungs and is senile
of his wife who wants cheap new bangles
to color the grind of curses hurts -Chores they are called
and he lights a new beedi

and i get uncomfortable
with the idea of love
yes an idea
no longer Love
with the feeling and the awesomeness
but a stone hard realism of a feminist
and it makes me want to turn away
or look past and look at ,and leap
to the solitude of a traveler
revelling in the journey
of the earth with it's hospitality

it's a Feeling
that feels like
perching delicately
on the bold curve
of a soft edged rock
in the midst of the Ocean
watching waiting
listening with the beating of your heart
waves
that only so occassionally
splash playfully
a cricket's-song undertone
of a vagueness
that makes you Feel
lost beyond rationalisations

that crescent moon
of a smile
needless to say
it reached up your eyes
and down your throat
along your pounding breast
jangled currents bolts shocks waves
across the marrow of your heart

and then it crept sleekly
inside your gut
gravity defying stunts
and it lifted with an urgency so delightful
your restlful restless brain stem

you know
when i first beheld the icy greyness
of this giant sepulchral building
a giantness of Empty
a giantness of unrecognised surreal faces
a giantness of being sorta kinda lost
a giant lostness of slamming into glass doors
hurriedly breaking out
to a place i wanted to know

when i first beheld that giantness
i had never thought
imagined felt conceived
hell i had it all figured out
in what i thought was a deep deep experience

i had never thought
it would be that crisp
that quick
the creepiness of mounting heartbeat
pounding like a drumbeat
rising out into the rosiness of dawn
full of a wisdom of it's own experience

that it would be that supple
lifting me with effortlessness
like a wave of adrenaline
rush; gushing into my
guts; breaking out like
a furious river bent on
flowing with the vastness of the ocean
and the innocence of the sky

i had never thought
that is how you have a Crush.

tailored to perfection
to suit the searching wavering conflicting
feeling
that arises like a whirlpool
cascading rising swirling
you look with that look of yours
trying to look
like you're not looking
a thud
in the recesses of
what i realise is a heart

i see you
looking at me
listening
for secrets

days on end
lakes unending going nowhere
the cyclic random nightly trilling
words that, mean .
and also mean what you want them to
hollow laughter
and the hollowness of a child's face
which means what the mother says it means

but without words
without thought
without worldliness
and utterings of ultimate absurdity
we find meaning
however we can

it upsets me
to believe that unreal reality
of false hopes and shattered beliefs
which feel ike a million tingling shards
of the sky
with skimming winds and racing clouds
in shapes of gigantic tree heads
and endearing treepies

it disturbs me sometimes
and i unsleep in nights
looking out into the umbra
of a reality which feels crazed
and the cricket's song
understands my heart my soul
and my sad despair
a longing for an experience
which is gone forever
and shall return
but only as a memory overcast by false belief