Thursday, December 25, 2014

You

There is so much in you.
There is a perennial source of words, thoughts and expressions.
There is an eternity within the years you've had and,
there is an uncreated maze of jumbled dots in you.
I want to be there to visit each of that dot of experience and relive it with you.
I want to be there to connect those dots and bathe in each moment that you've had.
This is my lure.
You are the universe.
You are beautiful in every possible way a free mind can think of and,
I want my being to be beautified by being a part of this assorted wrap of beauty.
I want us to write ourselves out, express ourselves out.
I know you care, I know you love a lot.
Let's know each other in this journey.
Let's connect those dots, create a messed up labyrinth and,
get lost in the universe it contains.

Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Meanwhile

Meanwhile, a monkey resuscitates a fellow monkey and
steals the fame time of usually famous Kardashian family.
The act itself,
supplemented by the virtuous act of sharing the news of act,
shall be complemented as acts that will apparently restore your faith in our forefathers.
Evolution has brought us to appreciate butts and butts for a living.
Meanwhile, the forgotten art of helping a fellow being has been resuscitated to life.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Perfume

Aaj wo almirah mein rakhe purane baste ko tatola.
Ek file mili..
jismein kuch kagaz, marksheet vagehra the.
Kuch khat bhi the,
lifafon mein lipte hue,
apni khushbu sanjoye hue.

Un tamaam khaton mein ek khat tumhara bhi nikla.
Kuch muskurahat si aayi..
aur maine us lifafe se khat ko nikala.

Wo zara ka rose wala perfume jo shayad tumne us khat pe chhidak ke usko post kiya tha..
aaj bhi un beete lamhon ko bakayakt sanjo rakha uski khushboo ne.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

A Little Bit..

Suddenly, its this lovingly hated song on head.
A night, getting away from
what I formed of myself..
that night.
I gaze at the sky to find you,
at place where i last located you
and sobbed.
You weren't there.
I smoked down to save you of it.
You hate the smoke.
I hate you for going away.

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Tree

Man and his tree of thoughts.
He moves around, carrying it.
Some blossoming thoughts,
some on bloom and,
some withering like leaves that have had their share of sun.

And then he seeks a listener -
a diary, some air or a lady's ear;
to empty his brimming vessel.
Awareness of a brimming vessel -
an abstract station on road to addiction.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Catastrophe

Anant said that I was at the right place.
May be I am.
I feel smug drinking this concoct of lights and dark.
I would never be at peace in woods,
nor would I be complacent in this hood.
I would carry on with my way of life,
with revolting pragmatisms and gut-felt rights.
O'Hara called these as catastrophes of one's own personality.
I'm with him there waiting for them to seem beautiful again.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Parallel Rails

The teacher in my soul is not accessible.
Who do I turn to and where should I look ?
The parallels have grown further,
the societal brain and the man's heart are at war.
I feel seen through,
judged by the Eiffel in Waterloo.
Why do I read about managing the coffers,
when all I care about is the spark that they fund to smother.

Saturday, September 6, 2014

Mother

Anxious about how things will turn out,
at age and time when Mother could't tell
as she could in '79.

The questions were essentially the same -
calming the worried heart, building the wall,
alienation in far land.

Answers about being trusting and righteous
when it all seemed like a walk,
on ice so thin.

A piece each kept with the past muses,
mother, will she understand your baby
could live no different.

Mother do you think they'll like these words?

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Them

For them it wasn't about acquiring one another.
It was about co-existing in harmony.
It was miles from the contemporary ways of the society,
and there lied it's twinkle.
Breathing her, feeling her, living her and with her.
It was a love that didn't wane.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

Sobriety

The subtle line making me from him
is the difference in our drunkenness.
He's too drunk on the indifference,
that capitalism has caused him to face.
His vessel is swell.
I'm still waiting on hitting the well.

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

For Hippie~

She is with the stars
and her hair are in the air.
In her easy bearing she walks far
and her pallazos invite many a appreciative stare.
She finds the dodgiest yet charming of most places,
and befriends the hippiest of vagrant human cases.
She gets high sometimes
to resonate her feelings with that of mountains..
Then she speaks with me over a cracky phone line
and tells me little stuff that gets my woman to smile.
I can't help but call her my entertainment channel..
and think of her missing me on that roof of that hilly cellar!

Saturday, August 2, 2014

Bheeeed

Its a funny feeling
I can't seem to shake off
Easy money and women stinking
I can't seem to like, like a puff.
In my easy brains are mountains
I can't force me to like materials
This world right here is all for gains
I can't get me to bite these cheesy meals.
There are lights and ensuing fights
I can't help but take jibes
There is ale and many a stale men mights
I can't force and stop my sweaty vibes.
This night is just ain't right for my kinds
For, rock that's classic and nature that's naked, rule our eccentric minds!

Friday, August 1, 2014

Humans of Mornings

A seemingly acrobatic pigeon,
perches on the balcony rail.
It has those unkind canny eyes
and its feather suit all ruffled up,
like pretty Pinko's morning hair
when she undoes the curtains of her perfect abode across the porch.
Sensing no harm,
it brings down its other naily-foot.
And I see bandaging and sews,
on one of the foot fork tooth.
It seems this morning
that humanity persists.
Across the porch,
Pinko brews some tea to his lucky man
and a faded golden ballerina walks by..

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

The Cook

If there is a God, the master creator, I'd like to refer to her as the master chef. The culinary maestro and the maiden connoisseur knew her salt and spices at best. The stalk to create the marvelous mankind was meticulously chopped, diced and stir-fried with the mix of salt and spices imbibed non-uniformly by the stalk. Her salt was an ingredient and her idea of what the mankind would come to know as 'true love'. And her deliberate non-uniform sprinkling of the mix was her idea of one savoring piquancy and bland in waves, in a pattern similar to those sine waves. The maiden connoisseur made a second-in-command connoisseur, the world, and let it perpetually taste this recipe. And here we are, the world, the second-in-command connoisseur, still baffled and questful in finding the subtleties of the mix of salt and spices in the human-folk recipe; still momentarily savoring some bites sprinkled with the 'true love' salt and still comforting and normalizing our buds with normalcy of blands.. Thats life, pretty much!

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Not Tonight

There is a wandering, vagrant loneliness

in this cold night.

The air is sloshed on mist

and trees are all naked

having shed their leafy attire

in bygone days.

Lights see their own reflects

on wet deserted streets.

I pour me a measure of old poor rum.

It comforts

the monotonous feeding memories

of inner tracks.

They don't see the light. Not tonight.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

..lets just breathe!

This morning, walking through the forests, I got this feeling they try to portray in those "Life Is.." quotes. It is definitely not the pictures we try to take adjusting those ISOs and exposures in cameras, at places and with postures enacted by millions. It is not being that commonplace guy. It is about "being" in those places, listening to them and letting them master your will. Its about experiencing that force, breathing deep.. and earning a smile from it!

Friday, April 18, 2014

Being!

I love the unsullied honesty of human emotion when the human is just being. The crown of thorns - the gear of an achiever, when taken off, reveals a nakedness of emotion that is the essence of being. The gleaming unfeigned eyes, then, reveal willingness for a real human interaction - the way it naturally is meant to be. We shall be told to run, to watch out, to conquer; but I choose to stop and 'spend' time and ponder the worth of my run for my being. Its a waste! Crazy, how we strive to cut short all of the non-value adding activities which lead to the formation of products and services that, unfortunately, own us but fall short of noticing how the whole idea of these products and services add no value to our being. Where is our desire to live, to be crazy, our willingness to experience other naturally occurring beings, to walk into wilderness, to breathe the morning fogs !

Sometimes!

I still, sometimes, think of her gleaming eyes. Washed in rose-water washed dreams, perceiving the world through iris of beauty, she was a spirit so free!

I still, sometimes, find a hint of that freedom in a few people I meet. I like to think that she somehow touched them and I gratify myself in their presence, her presence!

I still, sometimes, plug in to those songs and like to paint a picture of her in my head with she watching over me and bestowing me with fathoms of emotion to explore, write and sing!

I still, sometimes, hope for her to remain in me after long that I'd let go of her. Things change. People, circumstances, everything.. they change. Let 'us' remain..

Her..



I love the way she sees the trivials.
They see greys,
I see whites and their blacks;
she witnesses colours.
A simple cup of tea that's steaming,
in a milieu of cacophony of lives in rush,
a sun that's beaming and
the time that's fleeing.
They, in rush, chase the time,
I feel the sun's supremacy
and she smiles at translucence of steam,
the exchange of warmth between the cup and her palms
and the sip of mixes that buy the calm..

Sunday, March 30, 2014

The Stage Dive~

Nothing excites me more than witnessing a group of rock angels inciting a sea of people-drops, stirring them to an organized turbulence through powers, sounds & antics of their souls and then jumping into that sea - populated and high, riding its waves of pure and unadulterated appreciation!

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

On a night when I saw appox. million of dead

I go to bed terrified today for we forgot to love. Humans were decimated to perfection and were then counted to approximation. The things are no different today as biases and meticulously devised disparities serve a similar purpose. We are supposed to get out the 'Be the Change We Want To See' but I'm not aware of the change I want to see anymore. I wasn't raised to love humans and other things bestowed upon us by nature. So, unaware of the exact change I want to see, I don't know the change I want to make in me ! Well, on a regular day why would it even cross the head of a mango like me. The cultural shackles are too damn unrelenting and ofcourse there is constant pursuance of money to be able to afford the luxury called love amd nature. Not able to manage my pre-slumber smile tonight. Fuck!

Monday, January 13, 2014

Savors..

Some fine sunday morning.. We, you and me, will be unaesthetically tucked in a crumbled warm sheet.. Clothes wont seem necessary just like the notion of not paying a heed to the societal norms of waking up, getting dressed and moving out to work. There, we wont be condemning the unfavorable circumstances, wont be predicting the future, wont be regretting the past. We'd be living each ephemeral moment one at a time, exploring the reception of all of our senses.. Touch of our chests, smell of our breaths, taste of our lips, sound of our cracky voices and sight of a heaven ! We'd be smoking a fag when smoke would clear up our milieu and we'd be talking about importance in various trivialities. We'd watch those tigers and lion stories on discovery channel and occasionally talk about life in space. Along, you'd grab a hold of my thing and start give me a hand but stop before I come. We'd share a laugh and I'd name your udders and would act a fictitious conversation they'd be having at that moment. When your tummy starts to ache cause of the laughter; I'd go down on you tracing your contours and kiss your sensitive lips down there till you exude the heavens and then come up to face you and embrace your hug. And we'd live on..