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Showing posts from 2019

Having Said So

The trajectory of your joys go through the compost of unlimited smiles, nostalgic roads and the chords of love if I have to chronicle the metaphors that speak of your calmness I may have to sleep hungry or remain satiated without food
Your subtle intelligence is the food for my soul I just look at you, talking and being joyful in the words your reveal it is like a sensual romance with the language you restore through your curious, glasses framed eyes and a charm of innocence
Your lithe frame the feather light persona and the unbound tranquil energy if it isn’t a template of effervescence nothing else can be
as the theme of my verse is “joy” it is a visual, sensory and imagery delight when it comes to being with you or while feeling that feeling of closeness even when you are physically in a different plane or emotionally even in divergent thoughts
Having said so Can I translate in few words? You give a new meaning to my joys every moment of the day in an astute, resplendent way

On a special note (Haikus)

She crosses many paths
And the Sun is down
Her hands are curious

Laughter reverberated with ease
The sound of a window opening
Sky is lit

Love, an enigma
She looks at her glasses
Who is smiling now?

Richness of the emotions
The eyes look benign
Realm of endless thoughts

Great is the morning
The book falls
She touches her mind

I may be in love, but cynically so

I hate to say it
but I say it nevertheless
that I get cynical
in thinking that I may be
in love with you

this story that I build
has a history to it
when I remember abstract things like
the movement of your eyes
when you looked at
your favorite dessert
while it rained
I believe that it would not be love
of the template, of the notion
of what it is
to be in love

Merely contemplating
and being nostalgic
are the constructs of
deep attachment, perhaps
is it love then?
or just a passing phase
or a yearning
just to see your face?

I have many other reasons to say
that it could not be love
as I am still searching the real meaning
in knowing who am I
If I am lost, what is love?
Is anyone capable of truly loving?

You are surely inspiring me
to write these words
this serendipity is baffling
on one hand I am still thinking
and being cynical
and on the other
I am transformed into
endless thoughts of calmness and compassion
when I think of you

will I think like this, forever
like a imbecilic philo…


My coffee chides me
a kind of motherly triviality
as if I was born
to see caffeine
as a lullaby

Piano sounds on the earphones
and mind drifts
to the childhood
of glasses of milk,
bland omelettes,
ophthalmological problems and power cuts

old houses of memories
of Eastman color frames
pale sunlight
and now,
the coffee

coffee is a healer
from blind dates
to old age cynicism
it seems like acting on some nerves
even though I may love
the capabilities or the taste of the tea
coffee reminds me I am getting
older and crispier

the rustiness of my affair
with this brown drink
tunes me inside somewhere
the dark clouds outside the windowsill
and the coffee starts
melting me

I miss you

I miss your gargoyle laughter deep throated, vocal cords high and the voice that had a resonating charming quality and I miss the way you would create funny acts in the play of life whether there were dark clouds, shades of serendipity or the pains of limitless proportions
I miss the way your eyes dance not static as mine would be they would wonder towards the curious realm sometimes on a page of the book you would read and mostly outside the window towards the afternoon lull your eyes tell eternal stories of past pain and all the rest
your abhorrence towards me now is kosher and instinctive it talks about your love that has broken into fragments my ways had been reckless and decadent and I accept that I shouldn’t have said what I said I know it would be too late now I miss the times of enchantment and I wish to be the earlier me
Without you, the world around is just a routine masquerade sounds of cars honking, the heat of the summer the nasty winds and the dubious neighbours they all look more omnipresent then ev…

We met in a state of trance

Iniquitous differences apart or whatever sets me in I meet her when I start the fire
She gives me a wholesome peck and not so mellow trespass of a kiss the lips cannot swallow the heat I hold her and I see her melt I upstart another thaw and we celebrate temporary-ness this is the moment of infectious insanity and of intense touches of the soul
Over beer mugs. I watch her move around creative with the taste making her move makes me hold her hands and make her melt with the rejoice of lust
Am I wicked? and the raging fire Stalls the insights Of facade of life as we know it All barri

The heartbreak and Leonard Cohen

Leonard Cohen sings waiting for the miracle while I get a message and my life gets broken she says that she can’t fathom knowing me and my foibles henceforth
the words war was my subconscious fallacy I could not convey that it was a different me sitting in a lonely corner of a heated parapet while I said something to terrify her trajectory, with me
and Cohen sings, You wouldn't like it here
There ain't no entertainment
And the judgments are severe

I didn’t have to say What I said the other day I didn’t have to measure up my words to say something I did all I did was trying to play safe and I ended up hurting my space I was some actor on a play where the audience dreamt of a lost plot
The message was clear from her side I am the bedrock of her hate and I deserve the fate of surreal accusations, and the desolate acceptances I don’t deserve her in the notion of my life which has more half-truths than fantasies
while I hear Cohen now his sad verse cannot say or feel what I feel, at this moment

The Third Side

I am so lame and insane I give up my defenses and bruises