@ office !!

A few translucent blocks

The trapped bodies and their mighty souls

People move in blocks

And a glass separates lovers

That is me in that cabin

And I listen to music

The background score of my life

Baked clay

Its smell and harsh texture

Is all over my body

Cold heat sweat

And junctions of passion

Divisions on morals

And critics fucking the stories

I sit on all these

Or may be somewhere in between them

And emit that thing called vigor

things to do and done....

Sitting in room
I wonder and still wonder
It gives me goose bumps
And I turn deaf
To the sounds around
Have I lived my life?
Did I dream last night?

I am an addict
I am bonded
I am a slave
And I cry over my love

Fake orgasms
And Victorian mannerisms
I sit and relax
Watch the head going up and down
Captain on the ship
Drives me to the lonely island

Celluloid maddens me
And I sit fingers crossed
And eyes wide open
I need to kill a few animals
Nerves in my brain
And those in my legs
Entangled computer wires
All look the same

colors

If I could suck the redness
Of a rose
Or if I could have washed away
The colors from the feathers
Of a peacock

If I could understand
Why the beauty touches
Me so deep
Why the blood does not smell like a rose
Why peacocks beauty is flawed
And why we desire, the forbidden

Questions to answers
Don’t come easy

For when do blood stains become a beauty?
And when do you see beyond peacocks feathers?
And when do you realize the catastrophe of love?

You are an intellectual
Mr. Know all
Play with words and metaphors
Hide your filth, skin deep
For you, such answers come cheap

Blood stains from a virgin’s fuck
Look beyond the beauty, why does the peacock cry
When you are in love, too late a realization

Your answers explain
But can they slay the pain

Whose pleasure becomes the beauty, or that first sting is the beauty
The peacock cries, is it joy or the pain
A realization of love, isn’t that the eternal pain

tea in office

killing myself

When you tell me to kill myself
I listen
Dreams that come from undying moments

A round trip in the train
Silent conversations
And same T Shirts

If you say no,
I will have to leave
And go away

Will you ever understand my poetry?
Or that letter I wrote in my diary
I want to leave you
With the guilt

Of those endless nights
And those long lonely walks
I go away

------------------------------------------------------------------

Now
I kill myself everyday
I get immense pleasure from it
My love has made me insignificant
I am in fits of insanity
It’s only your rejection that I see
It’s only the fire I yearn for
This is the decision of destiny
The script has already been written

The acts change, and so do the costumes
Let’s sell this show better
Serve the liquor and make this a whore house

My gods tell me that I can be one too,
I just need to know the rules
And understand the psyche
Of the masses

You rule my senses, thoughts and dreams
You live in my memories and words
You slipped away few months ago…..
I still look for you through these corridors

blues

blues


My tale will never end
I will write more
For you
Today you are gone
But I still walk to your house
And romance with your furniture
I try to smell you on your phone
And sit on your chair

It’s the nearness to your belongings
That is my poem for you
That makes me sad
Yet content
Because I can still touch you

I wonder sometimes
If you can sense me?
When I leave
I wonder sometimes
If these small things make a difference to you

Writing Histories


Do people know
They write the history
When they pick up their pen
Late evenings and smudgy rooms
And uncomfortable postures
One pain and an era to un-love

The wait for “The End”
A hall full of applause
Fame comes handy, godfathers and
Their bitches are loving it

Where do I sell
Myself, my story
My pen and buy my name
In the history…..
Late evenings and smudgy rooms
Seven year old paper
Becomes more dull
When I write with a stolen pen

I wake up at the sunset
And sunrise takes me to bed
How much I sleep is not important,
Or let’s leave that for another poem

Living on the other side of the world
Dramatic but just another impact
Of the chips getting smaller

Lost, shit and blah blah...

How will I find my
Way, for lost am I
I have tried and tried
Even gone back in time…..
It doesn’t help
Vodka and lime

I will not tell this secret
To anyone other than you
You are the only one
A seed of nostalgia
In my soul

A knife of ice
And a grave full of smoke
The endless and sleepless
Nights on the other side
The dawn and the dusk
Sometimes kills the life

Somebody sits and watches
Steps and chairs
Cubicles and stairs
Second by second
Tik tock …tik tok
The mighty hand on the clock
It will go
And run a new show, somewhere downtown
I forgot my guitar today
But it might snow
And then I will run home
Bare feet
To take out my leather shoes
This time the New Year will go right
I will set the pace
New glasses will be ordered
And the liquor will be measured
For every inch of body

I have started killing the turkeys
For the feast….
There will be plenty
Of meat
Bring friends and foes
Because it will be a large gathering

Blank paper’s itch

When I try to study
A blank paper, on a crossroad
Time eats me up as quicksand
I am volatile without a coffin

Fluttering eye and siesta in my veins
A night of pain
And a heart so distant
Too many pictures around
Portraits of strangers
And off season discounts
Flash through the whiteness
Of the blank paper
Stories, poems, songs, sketches
Memoirs and diary entries
Epistolary, novels and sonnets
So much and too many
All in my eyes or just the paper’s itch

I wait, I wait
To understand the mystery,
Of body and mind
Sex and love
Siamese twins

Ciphers disdain these questions
Some ambiguities can’t be deciphered
By a mere itch
Blank paper is just as susceptible
As a crossroad