tea

if you could do anything in the world…

would we really do it?

i might just sit with it for a while…

and maybe make some tea.

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self-portrait on shaky waters

I can see me in your eyes…

distorted,

how I seem is hard to say.

pieces of this puzzle lay in a heap

in time I pray, will fall in to place.

 

the rising moonlights’ trapped in darkened clouds,

pure water seeps the folds of my brain.

to leech out or rejuvenate

or to cleanse my core,

be born again.

 

a quiet capsule,

the eye of this storm-

living womb or dry valley of death.

time that is mine, static like the stars…

yet a forward step, I fear-

might blow my mind miles away.

sleep for dreams

For just a while, let me

Rest my lips on your sleeping eyes

Softly…

So your breath doesn’t quicken and your heart doesn’t race,

cold sweat doesn’t flood your temple and hair.

Let me rest my lips…

But wake not till the day is bright

and the light is right

to lure you away from your dreams.

The clockwork of a traffic jam.

Cochin in the afternoon… Dusty, hot, humid and if you are out on the streets, it’s rush-hour that never moves. It was while I was in one of those I heard the blaring of an ambulance coming from behind, getting louder as the source of that sound got closer… In a rush-hour that usually never moves. Turning around I saw movement ! Cars, bikes and to my surprise even bus drivers seems to me doing something astonishing. The vehicles rearranging themselves autonomously like a self aligning rubik’s cube as the ambulance moved through a rapidly and spontaneously forming maze.

Like a precious egg being pushed out of a bird so that life could continue. I watched the miracle unfold as the white little van made it’s way through, twisting and turning as it went past me and then slowly disappeared in to the distance, to a sea of smoke and dust ahead. The lights were still red. I had witnessed something truly satisfying.The ever so elusive magic of a rough city.

 

ode to women

Her hair,
like tongues of fire smouldering
Smother the beholder
Till it aches like the pain,
To infinities these glimpses last.
Her arms that are branches,
Gulmohars in bloom
Leafless bundles of red joy.
Ignorant of heaven and earth
They spread
like spilled milk on a marble floor.
Her skin,
Like my niece’s in the cradle
In the sun, would sublime.
Beneath the Red flesh
Pulsating with every beat
Would be beautiful.
Yes,your flesh would be beautiful
So be your gut and bones.
For your beauty sank
deeper than your skin.
Sank through
till it drenched men’s hearts
Sank through
And soaked your core
Ending world’s wait for beauty,
for beauty is here
Beauty is now.

growing in reverse

Our eyes closed,flying back and forth on the sweet swing
as it rained on our red faces, we were children…
Standing flat footed,                                                                                                                                         in the stream of endless time we learnt to fish,
unhook painlessly
and weep…
for the dying fish in the grass.


Our eyebrows bled with every stone we took
We laughed out loud then we sat and cried
Our cheeks were valleys
Riddled with dried up streams
Our mouths were joy
that we spat at all our friends
The nights separated
Our days of fun
noon naps and tea times
were all we worried about.

Twisting like a child
Yet to be born, bathed
In sunshine of the womb
My memory twists,
Flipping back on itself
Recurring like a dream too sweet
Flipping back,
falling face down
I search for black holes unplugged
Scabs and scars.
For answers…
And questions unasked.


Why ?
I want angels and shooting stars
True hearts and philosopher’s stone
Listen as other people dream
Listen as I myself scream
Listen,
to the sound of silence and fun.
Listen to lovers,                                                                                                                                                  
to the bleeding and the bled out…
Curious,
And live like children
For children we truly are

impetus

Run slow enough
To see what you leave behind.
Fast enough,
To care.
Close your eyes
Let your feet carry.
Close your mind
Pray it gets you somewhere
You are young,
Will be old very soon.
So leave the doors open
Let the seasons blow in.
Springtime and autumn leaves.
Leave the doors open
And your French windows too
So when you kiss as it rains
The mist of the first monsoon
Would wet your glass face
And the air would lift your hair.

Are you awake
Or are you lost in slumber
Your clear face,
Honest as shattered glass
And your nape
In a sweat against the sheets.

It’s beautiful,
to live when you are alive.
Longing,
To live your age or you to mine.
Your world enormous
In your nimble arms
And I,
I a calm seeker
Simple observer
Witnessing the spectacle that is you,
Lost at see.

state of being (circa: lifetime at hand)

what is it that i want ?

on this breaking winter’s day…

calm and bright

like the best summer day.

 

persistent dry leaves rattle,

like a lite heart full of love.

as the ancient wood lost water,

creaked and shrank…

as the cracks formed explode with life

and eggs of unknown bugs.

 

the core of all shrank,

grew lite and bent.

an oddity, my heart…

was that swelled, each time i blinked

and each time grew wide with blurred light.

 

what more is it that i want ?

the need to breath and move.

being happy cant be terrible after all.

worth of words

from the eye of the storm rose no empty words.

No faint whispers,

No shuddering roars…

Like the northern lights gleaming silent

Your whistle invites,

But you fear the worst.

Its no nightmare or dream,

Im palpable flesh.

Words tangible, proof of my beat.

Question yourself but never deny…

What worth are these words,

Lest faith flitters away.

perishable self

We are nothing

But a tuft of hair undecayed.
A face,
Replaced everyday
for every face we meet.
We are nothing
But three meals a day
And the clink
of spoon on metal plate.
That how we keep track;
The clink on metal plate,
Wall calendars flapping in the wind
And a very horny self.
We are nothing
But someone’s memory.
Thats how we learn ourselves,
From someone’s memory.
the doors we closed,
the bugs we smacked
And the love we dint return.
We are nothing,
But a tuft of hair,
nails and teeth
And maggots feed-
The rest.
We are nothing,
But twenty fingers and a heart of glass,
Pursed lips and parted eyes.
We are nothing
But rabbits, fucking in the sun and shade,
Stardust and fake leather shoes.
We are nothing.
This is what we’ve become.