What Remains

Must bury the remains deep,
Put them down someplace,
From where there is no turning back,
No home to return to,
No family waiting,
No God to pray to,
No tree’s to wave to,
And most of all a million things,
That wouldn’t bother the spirit,
With their endless chatter,
Senseless,
Free dare I be?
Forgive me, if this is asking for too much,
I feel like taking anyway.

In an Asylum I must be

If life was anymore complicated,
I would be locked up in an asylum…
Imagine what a place to be,
One could be childlike, downright naughty,
Chase the flies, talk to the walls,
Weep for hours, laugh at them all,
Pluck a flower of every color,
Sing a lullaby to a stray on the street,
Love the first person,
Who helped you to your feet,
Madness is a cure,
To a deadly disease,
They chose to call it monotony.

For Him to Return

In the soft morning light,
She is oddly familiar,
The sound of her gently breathing,
Drown out the tweeting birds,
Her face inches away,
As if bathed in love,
A vulnerable creature in his bed,
He searches in haste to pull her close,
The warm indent of her lovely form,
Swoosh of an empty space,
She was gone,
A death slow but certain,
She had waited far too long,
For him to return,
knowing he never would.

In Prayer?

Praying is never easy,
A sentiment so pure,
Yet, the song eludes you,
Hands folded, eyes closed,
A blind man poised to dance,
Hollering for alms,
The surrender never happens,
The cries become loud,
Why me, why now, why this, why that,
To me that doesn’t sound like a prayer?

The Absolute

Our basic instinct is to survive,
Hunt rather than be preyed upon,
To hoard supplies for a rainy day,
Fear the unknown, move in packs,
Yet, the wise say,
Fear not the unknown,
On this narrow path to the divine,
The sublime, you walk alone,
The climb is steep carry no load,
In spirit, the world is alike,
The hunter and its quarry,
A mere occurrence to amuse both sides,
‘Maya and Mithya’,
Duality, illusion, untruth,
Form the quantum filed of the absolute.

Seed of Discontent

It never stops,
The wish to be someplace else,
The world at my feet,
Yet, the restless spirit yearns,
For the innocence of youth,
To sleep after a hard days work,
To know nor worry
Neither despair its accomplice,
To know not the hunger for love,
That shines in many a vacant eyes,
Longing is a seed that grows,
And blooms into a fine tree,
Without water or manure,
And bears the fruit of discontent,
The wish to be someplace else…

Her Womb

Her tears have dried, heart has shriveled,
Since the little one died,
In her womb,
The hand that held her own,
The father of the child unborn,
Is a stranger in their home,
The tragedy lingers like bad breath,
A hideous memory of the blood bath,
He doesn’t hear her muffled cries,
The stoic silence is killing them both,
No grave to sit by in fond remembrance,
Of a nameless child,
She struggles to let go.

Trees are so Passé

The trees are unusually quiet today
Not in their element I would say
The shameless breeze dare not tease
So lost are they in contemplation
Vagaries of life easily amuse them
Such as the passing
Of an old tree trunk
Axed to splinters… to pulp
Man, the intelligent species
Goes about inhaling fresh air
Morning walks are a fitness fad
Evenings a time to chit-chat
Too much of green is claustrophobic
A jungle fit for animals
A man must aim further than the moon
Trees are so passé,
Giving only shade and fruits.

Apathy

A light knock upon her door,
Brash and arrogant in a gentleman’s hat,
Convenience queues outside,
Bitterness, the brazen mistress of calm,
Need no flowers no worldly charm,
Shamelessly she falls
Into his waiting arms,
A union so potent to bear a lovechild,
Apathy, indifference it’s many names,
If love and hate are first cousins,
Then apathy is the incestuous sister,
Callous, cruel, ugly as sin.

'I" dissolve

Have you ever been robbed of a smile,
Felt innocence light up your eyes,
Stood vulnerable under an umbrella of stars,
Gaped at the wind shaking big-small leaves,
Have felt comfort in the presence of the dead,
Reached out and touched empty space,
With glee gathered pebbles in your palm
To hurl across a stream,
Have you not always known,
Each one is fated to fade alone,
Yet, before fading we must let the , ‘I’ dissolve,
Pray for a hearth in every home,
A meal on every stove,
Revere each one as the image of God.

Stones Don't Cry

They say stones don’t cry,
Flowers in the spring,
May make them smile,
Forget who they are just for a while,
But the rain brings with it the promise of slime,
The familiar feeling of comfort,
The old routine,
The flower blooms, wilts and dies,
The obituary of their love,
Not worth a dime,
Who has ever heard,
A stone weep?
Weep for a flower,
Who loves him deep.

Arms of the Unknown

Through half closed eyes, folded limbs,
Wading in the dark alleys of dreamland,
Searching but never finding,
A story that is mine,
The golden harp lures,
The naïve heart down the road to love,
Caught in the reel of tomorrow,
The scent of desire,
The air feels warm,
Naked in the arms of the unknown,
The big mind rests at last,
At peace with the grand illusion of oneness,
A smile flutters on those moist lips…

Who is Love?

Once, love was a restless traveler,
Wandering in the desert of his own creation,
Climbing one sand dune after another,
In search of fulfillment,
Everywhere he went,
He saw beauty, perfection,
But no one to blow his trumpet,
Sing his glory,
Incomplete was love,
Faceless, nameless, wordless,
Until we came along,
And Love became you and I,
Every other being that came to be…

Someplace Else

Silence of an empty room,
Memories of a wistful mind,
Laughter of fun-filled times,
Torment me late into the night,
Dark, asleep, dangerously quiet,
My dreams are strange,
No head, no tail,
No sweeping romance no fairytale,
Simply a yearning to be someplace,
To snuff out this empty space.

Our Story

Are we saved or He saves us all?
I am yet to appreciate His writing style,
In which He writes my stories for me,
Each chapter inked in blue,
Fading, on the verge of yellow,
A lifetime of storytelling,
And He still can’t get the ending right,
Snow-white and Cinderella don’t really appeal to him,
A bunch of silly girls,
Hankering after a prince,
Where is the sense in that now?

Twisted is his favourite genre,
Where nothing comes easy,
The closer you get to the middle,
The darker it gets in print,
There are no hands to hold,
You probably butchered them on the way.
The irony is,
In anger and even in grief,
His stories, the world believes are about hope,
I hope too,
For once the world’s right,
In this hapless existence there be hope shining bright.

To Life

Come be by my side,
I ask nothing of you,
The union of two minds,
tainted... maybe,
Scared nevertheless,
Valuable lessons in life,
After all one must progress.

The sky won’t fall on our head,
And should stones rain,
I’ll keep you safe,
Soothing the touch of my hand,
A balm I often use,
To let you know that I love.

The faint smile continues to grow into a grin,
The vastness of this creation,
Is as much outside,
As it is within,
Sleep walking are men and women around us,
How nature fails to inspire them.

I wonder,
Will years be kind to them,
As they have been to us,
Will they ever know that nirvana could very well be,
Standing under the blue sky,
Being caressed by the wind,
In that moment be so in tune,
Oneness would then be your truth and mine,
And that’s all there is...to life.

Black Tea

I long to sing your praise,
Mostly in the quiet morning hours...
Probably a habit left behind by the great man,
Sipping black tea,
Eyes closed, humming to himself,
A groggy good morning would fetch a nod,
Sometimes a wink,
The world with its worries and disappointments,
Didn’t weigh too heavily then,
The attempts to chat him up,
Almost always failed,
A finger to his lips and the forehead creased in devotion,
In surrender the day began,
I was a poor companion,
But, I now believe,
The company of God is all he sought,
The prayer of the heart,
Drowned in the soul stirring music,
He played every morning...

In Prayer In Love

And she vows to catch,
Every single grey in his hair,
His head tilted to the side,
Through her eyes,
If he could see,
He would see a man slowly beginning to learn,
How to breathe,
To soak in the morning sky,
Hear the high octave of the nightingale,
Brush his lips against the dewdrops settled on fallen leaves.
Greatness in that moment,
She could foresee,
For a man is unstoppable,
If he chooses to rise above,
The tight rope he walks,
Invincible.
The trivia that plagues his spirit,
Knows the soothing fingers of a woman,
Every moment worth in gold,
Savoured.
The space between is no space at all,
His grace is such,
That a glimpse of heaven he makes allowance for,
The chance occurrence is beautiful,
When the twine embrace,
Passion has long been mistaken for love,
Love is in the aftermath,
Like a prayer that may or may not reach God,
But it originates in the heart anyway,
In prayer, in love the twine shall meet.

Not Every Man's Keep

Rarely does light fall,
In the darkest corners of our heart,
Uninvited,
The light can be seen only through the eyes of hurt,
Now, hurt is not every man’s keep,
She sings, dances and seduces only the weak,
Weak in love,
Till they grow strong in spirit,
And know hurt as she lies naked,
On an unmade bed,
Many a nights of agony,
When you hold her still,
Feel her flesh, caress her mane,
Watch her writhe about in pain,
To the helpless then an epiphany comes,
Hurt is not separate from man,
Her heart inadvertently beats for him,
And why shouldn’t it throb,
Hurt is the feminine in every man,
Who has unwittingly fallen in love,
Like an open field,
The soul will soar,
If only a man would allow,
Hurt to walk out that door.

A Lot Less

The less I knew,
The more I rebelled,
Wanting to solve life’s mysteries,
When all lay unraveled,
Discontent grew,
Now, I don’t wish to know,
How do we end up,
Where we end up,
A reality that could only have been fiction,
Stares at its reflection,
Of the hand on the head,
There are no memories,
Only what the old melodies bring,
A wistful expression,
What if you were here,
How different life would have been,
To run into daddies arms,
While the world around kept burning,
No safe haven like yours,
Only borrowed, stolen,
Short-lived,
I make do with what I have,
A lot less than when you were here…

Night Turns My Head

Oh, the dark night is here,
I shall rant and rave,
Till heavens fall,
And the loved ones run,
When there is no one left,
Laugh and cry I will,
What else can one do in lonely places,
Where no one comes…
Laying down,
The tears gather,
In the crater around the eye,
Like rain water in a hollow tree trunk,
Soothing to the skin,
The salt stings but just about,
Many nights have been spent sobbing,
In the cocoon of your arms,
Unaware you sleep,
Well, at least one of us can claim to be sane,
For the night turns my head, yet again.

Fill in the Blanks

Forgive me,
Far too many blanks that need filling,
Someday, I shall fill them all,
Till then let’s look for answers,
Thirst for the meaning of life,
If any,
May be living isn’t the key,
Togetherness is,
To know the other as yourself,
Not in vain did Jesus say,
Kingdom of God is within you.

Well, my sense of direction is poor,
I never really get anywhere,
Or perhaps, He wills,
No man shall reach His gate,
Till they tread through muck,
Cut a few corners, tell a few lies,
Nurse the confusion welling up,
And know they are not,
What they are made to be,
The fragrance of a flower,
The seasons can’t meddle with.

Unexplored the virgin territory,
Misguided the lofty mountain of virtue,
Abused the river of life,
A lesson learnt the hard way,
His reign begins on humbler grounds.

And I Miss You

Of all the voices in the head,
His is most dear,
In the quiet-chaotic moments,
It rings clear, His voice,
Through the mindless wandering,
His presence is felt,
Deep within,
Strange how one misses God,
Every now and then...

Inspired by the Song 'With or Without You.

I can’t be my greatest love,
Unless,
You live through me, with me,
I can’t be your greatest love,
Until,
You set me free.
Eyes closed I walk to you,
The cup of life brims over new,
I could sip and tell,
I now hold the best of you.
In your wildest dreams you make love to me,
I won’t shy away,
Grab my hand,
As you let me go,
I am coming home right now.
On wings of time,
The devil flies,
We fly with him,
Where the wile night ends,
Battered so long,
Sweet the lullaby,
In those sleep filled eyes early morn.
If only you understood,
My heart isn’t yours to keep,
It is for keeps,
And you could be my greatest love.

Puppy Love

If I could ask God for something today,
I would ask for twenty of the best years of my life,
And give them away...
My puppy is very young,
And there is much to see,
Though the wise eyes tell me,
He has seen all there is to see.
Death doesn’t pain me,
We are all headed to the same place,
The loss runs deeper,
I long to see my puppy’s face,
Hear the sound that wouldn’t pass muster as a bark,
The tiny milk teeth that would chew just about anything,
I laugh,
I don’t know if puppy understands my world,
A life that tricks, treats and teases endlessly,
Frightens with choices and cajoles with comfort,
In this crowd,
Often, I find myself lost,
Walk with me a little longer,
Puppy,tug me home,
Who knows we can play forever.

Hell of Your Making

The scales never balance,
Wait and you shall see,
That which topples over,
Falls to the ground and solidifies,
Bleak its crust,
Dim the light in the twinkling eye,
Nonchalant the breeze that hurls the solids into the air,
And places on a pedestal,
It rains then,
Dissolves into non-matter,
Disappears,
Reborn, the bud blossoms,
Tricked into life,
With promises of happier times,
There aren’t any, are they?
Only a certain randomness,
That the seers explain as cause and effect,
Detached the mind that feels the mystery,
Rest, toss and turn in the hell of their making.

Cheap Thrills

I smoked the noise away,
Softly at first,
Then a few quick drags,
Heady, the twirling smoke,
Slowly running up my neck...
For much less I have sold my soul,
I won’t haggle now,
Lungs enjoy the tobacco,
The throat coughs in disgust,
Close to my lips,
The cigarette gently burns.

Bliss by My Feet

The candle’s been burning so long,
The fragrance is sandalwood,
I know the music,
Have heard it many times,
Eyelids heavy with sleep and something else,
Follow flickering shapes on the wall,
Blank, the ambition of the restless soul,
Surprisingly no one is missed,
Bliss, I find,
Sits by my feet,
Softly resting her cheek,
A sweet smile spread on her face,
I lay back and think nothing of it,
There are days like this,
When you is all you need…