Looking at Life like a Chagall painting

In the sugar-coated motion of everyday life,

The crystallized lips--they do not speak.

Passers-by look distorted through the looking glass.

A little like: Looking at Life like a Chagall painting.

Stripping life down to the mere basics,

Letting the old spirits float around you.

The sound of the rain hitting the window pane,

And the wind howling with the wish to enter.

Remind you how Life is in its actuality.

Ready to take you up on a moment's notice.

And not let go of you: Till the eyes are sunken,

And the smiles are gone, the bones jutting through.

Till the dreams die and the soul fades.

Life takes the twinkle of eyes and the dimples.

And promises nothing, but the precious gift of Death.

For Death is reality and Life a mere illusion,

However ghastly she may be!

Nothings spells I'm fine better than coffee

The white cup balances itself so neatly on the edge of my bed,like a beautiful ballerina about to take off into a graceful leap.

I wonder if I notice because my emotions are stacked the same way?

I have managed to surprise myself so many times.I laugh a giggle and wonder if that's even possible!The heat from the coffee makes my hands warm.

These little things make me smile; I am happy. 

The old gray tree outside stretches its fingers, nodding its head in time to the much older wind. Words keep poking around inside my head. Asking me questions, prodding my heart.And I can smother laughter to say: "I'm fine"

I really am.

Spread-eagled on regulation white sheets,a marbled blanket for company.The phones give off a eerie white glow in the background. I stare at the unfamiliar ceiling and think that the smoke detector looks like an alien spying machine. My imagination had always been iffy. I thought of all the boring classes it had saved me from. Of all the things I could be grateful for, I wonder why my imagination had never featured quite on top of the list. The coffee is still warm, it wont stay that way forever!

Wet Eyes

Shove all the booze aside,
Today all I want is to get drunk..
On life, the stupid stubborn witch.
She entices with a few moments,
Only to drag me down with tears.
But still like the best of friends,
We meet and crib from time to time.
I reach out for him in the middle of the night,
And then I realise I've forgotten...
His smell, touch, the roughness of his beard.
Only memories of scratches line my cheek.
And the tears that had followed,
But they were kind, they left no mark.
I want to drink on life's mirthless frivolity.
When it takes my breath away, in shock..
And just sometimes, in surprise!
In its stupor, I want to dream.
Of endless tommorows, survival, and existence.
How I exist just by breathing, just by being.
But mostly of my dreams, the soggy ones.
The ones I'd shoved under the carpet.
Like dirty litter, thinking it'd be forgotten.
I want to cut my hands in picking those broken shreds,
And lovingly put them to sleep on my pillow.
Next to my drunken head and wet eyes.

Bamboo Shoots and Flights of fantasies

My aim is to be like the bamboo shoot
So strong in its roots, and so flexible above;
When a Strong wind blows, it bends,
But never breaks.

It gives the strength to wild grass to grow,
Carefree on its roots; around it, enmeshing it.
Little pins and needles seem stuck in my heart;
Bleeding it at inappropriate moments.

The more they push themselves in,
Like a bamboo tree, I shall grow higher;
Reach towards the skies, touch the stars,
WIth stars on each of my fingertips.

I shall see dreams of fairies and love.
Somwhere beyond the horizon,
My dreams will take flight, like birds.
Then this simple rooted thing,
Would have taken flight.
No sudden pangs of heartache,
Will then caress that dream's heart.

Smoke

She looks on the passing traffic.
The whizz and the busy honking.
People in their normal pursuits,
Going noisily about their business.
She looked at the milieu,
With mildly curious eyes.
Drawing smoke into her lungs,
Closes her eyes against the sun.
Not feeling its warmth, nor the noise.
For one sublime moment...
As the smoke curls inside her.
She keeps her words locked inside,
Too precious to be shared...
Treasured inside, away from sight.

Hey stranger!
Wont you ask her what they are?

Happiness

I read and see so much that it bleaches my insides,

there is just too much theory and too little soul.

All I want is now lost in the ashes of time.

Grey with ages, floating away like dust,

they crumble on the tips of my fingers,

As I shut the old book with a firm thud.

Only you can hear me through the silence.

In your eyes, I see the reflection of brilliance.

The dipping orange glow of the setting sun,

against your profile, the happy twinkle.

Strange as it seems, I'd find comfort in darkness,

but now you make sunshine so mellow.

And now that I have found you again Happiness,

I promise to never let you go, till death do us part.

A moment, A lullaby.

There is a short moment when I wake up…

When the line between reality and dreams is almost blurred.

There is a short moment of absolute peace…

Before the troubles and long forgotten woes come rushing in.

A minuscule moment of bliss, so sweetly sublime…

Where I feel that alls right with my life, the worlds just fine.

A moment of dreams so real, that I can almost reach out for…

That tiny split-second moment makes me want to go to sleep.

World on Pause Button

Life dances with her shiny twinkled toes.
Madly round and round 

                                             ................a carousel.

The melodies play on a bitter sweet mode.

Lovely tinkling noise

…..….a murky brook.

They go around from mouth to mouth.
Words don’t matter much

.............sinking sand.

People have their colorful masks.

They say "I do"

                                                      .........they don’t.

Sitting on the cold park bench.

Watch the world go by

                                             ........…..a mad rush.

Felt you when I wrote the last line.

In white moonlight glow.

  ………..was sleeping.

Have the world on a pause button.

Coz my world is bigger

                                 ….than you can ever imagine.

For some romances last...even after they are over.

I'm saying goodbye even before I say hello.

Every time I am just walking out the door,

When I haven't even tried turning the key.

For it is only in my loneliness do I find you.

It's in the whisper of time that I hear you.

Softly brushing against my skin in light teasing,

Of memories--dark and light, sad and pleasing.

So many sunsets, twilights and open endings.

Drinks that burned the back of my throat,

Cannot even compare with the unshed tears.

For I am loathe to part with them,

Now that they're all I have left of you.

A lifetime is too little time to get over you.

And the reason is simple, I just dont want to.

Hoping that if one day on passing each other by,

You'll find it in your heart to smile once before I die.

It is indeed so hard to die when there's beauty around.

Dark shadows cloud my eyes-what's lost is once again found.

Burn

I am going to burn this town tonight.

Before the moon is high over yonder.

In the raging flames I shall find perverse delight.

Those orange flames will show my candour.

The ‘me’ that I’d lost and the one that you broke.

Like a thousand mirrors, they reflect your sins.

A thousand eyes look on the fires I stoke.

Ashes of dreams and rage-the inseparable twins.

And I shall see how you laugh today…

The moon will be red tonight, serenely murderous.

PS: Rage is powerful but very much like a katana, cuts both ways.

Passion

I have been fighting these tears--on the brink tears.

Fighting all the too loud questions and the fears.

It seems to be déjà vu all over for me again.

Just after flushed happiness comes the pain.

I’d said to myself a long ago that I wouldn't do this.

But here I am, betrayed by my latent wishes.

The questions stay bottled up inside.

Pounding my head; relief only when I’ve cried.

All the doubts in my mind are killing me.

What keeps you silent? When I need you to feel me.

Slowly a yawning hole is opening in my soul.

It’s only a matter of time before its shows in my eyes.

I hope you know what you want, no mistake.

Its only love that lasts, the passion pales in its wake.

When you’ve made up your mind, knock on my door.

But the door closes behind you, so you gotta be sure.

If it isn’t love, I won’t hold you to anything

But beyond this point, there is no going back.

Jaded Naivety

I got so tired of these damned clichés in my poem,

So thought of getting rid of every one of ‘em

What are rules made for, if not to be broken?

What is a heart made for, if not pieced apiece?

So I say: ‘what the hell, grab the moment and run free’.

There are things like deadlines, priorities and commitment.

And then there are things like strawberry wafers, things pleasant.

What are rules made for, if not to be broken?

What is a heart made for, if not pieced apiece?

I’m done with the ‘what if’s and the ‘why not’s.

So something’s gonna hurt. But you still do it anyway.

Coz it’s forming a part of now, tomorrow’s memory’s cachet.

What are rules made for, if not to be broken?

What is a heart made for, if not pieced apiece?

Giving free run to my imagination, the string-less kite.

And he made it so that we couldn’t even be friends.

And she’s become a candle that burns both its ends.

What are rules made for, if not to be broken?

What is a heart made for, if not pieced apiece?

So I am letting go of both, hope it gives them hell.

Not that I hate, not that I love; its just that I don’t care.

It had in actuality become too much of a burden to bear.

What are rules made for, if not to be broken?

What is a heart made for, if not pieced apiece?

Something’s remain unbroken, unfortunately perhaps.

Like hope for a new beginning, thinking things will be better.

Knowing most probably they won’t—tomorrow is today’s daughter.

What are rules made for, if not to be broken?

What is a heart made for, if not pieced apiece?

What is life if not spent on foolish naivety?

Shooting for the moon

Its been a long time that I have seen stars in the sky,

This thick grey cloud clogging up the city nighttime,

Hiding so cruelly all the precious diamonds in the sky.

Or is it that the cloud is in our minds, fogging brains?

Of materialism, of egos, of cunning, of always wanting more.

A disease permeates our generation—shooting for the moon.

And shoot some people who stand in your way too.

Where friendship is obsolete, its all professional here.

Black coats, black trousers and blacker hearts.

Its been a long time since I saw the sun set over the Ganges

But I still see corpses floating down everyday.

Only this time, its not just decomposed dead bodies.

It is the stench of decaying decadent souls.

"Sapne"

Aaj fir humara ek sapna toota.

Sapney to toot te hi rehte hein.

Aur hum bhi unke sang bhikhar te rehte hein

Nadan yeh dil jane sapne kyu dekhta hein?

Aap hume chor kar itne door nikal gaye...

Aur socha ke hum wohi pe rah jayenge?

Hum un me se nahi jo roye aur bhul jaye.

Hum un mein se hein jo hanse aur yaad kare.

Zindagi ke iss safar me kitni choti si zustajoo thi,

Hum ko pata bhi nahi chala aur khatam ho gayi.

Par jo bhi thi, bohot pyari si thi, thi bari hanseen.

Ab agey kya hoga woh to hume nehi pata,

Zindagi aansoon se kahan rukti hein?

Jo humare liye na ruka, hum unke liye nehi rukte hein.

PS: Forgive mistakes in Hindi, not very well versed in it. This came naturally in Hindi, I dont know why. So I wrote it down the way it arrived in the world.

A Chance Meeting with You.

It’s funny how you and I are alike in our vulnerabilities.

We actually have the very same debilitating disabilities.

And yet we are so very different at the same time.

You are a guy, and I mere woman; so feeble I’m.

While your eyes blink and you have a nervous stance.

I sit there with barely an eyelash batting, lost in life’s dance.

With hands as steady as rock that lifts up the glass.

I look into the eyes of your mind—you know I trespass.

Yet inside I am screaming too, just like you are.

I don’t have the permission to speak, its just bizarre.

And true to myself not a word passes my lips, I feel dead.

Not numb, dead, like something’s gone away, has bled

And it’s never going to come back ever, gone forever

I wish I had a rock to stand on today, when everything’s a blur.

But how can I forget I am my own rock, cruel Irony.

As I dash against myself, its me cutting myself vainly.

Like always…

For Jazzy

I dreamt of your little innocent face last night.

I saw you taking your laborious gasping breaths,

I shook your lifeless body again and again.

Countless times (and I tried to count) in my dreams

Hoping against hope that you came back to us.

But you had already gone onto a better world,

Leaving a little hole where you had occupied,

My heart and ours for one whole week.

You are not forgotten and you will be loved.

We hope that your sojourn to the after-life,

Is filled with pink bows, milk and kisses

And maybe the fishes you never could have.

dance of life

I want to go dancing tonight—

Maybe on the clear drops of dew,

That the night arrays on the grass.

Under the moonlight when it’s cool and dark

Or maybe on the cobblestones without shoes,

Feel the cool round stones make love to my feet.

Hearing the music of my heartbeats,

As I silently dance the night away.

Or maybe on the beach where the waves hit in ripples.

To the rhythm of the roar of the sea.

Hearing the tap of my moves mark the mighty sea.

Or maybe in the storm when the rain beats fast.

To the changing moods of zephyr and wet with thunder.

Pincushions Etc.

Why is it that when you hand your heart on a platter,
They think that its just the thing to use as a pincushion?
And its such a pain later to sit and take each pin out.
One by one, with nary but a sigh allowed to escape.
All this and some hit me when I was in mode introspection.
That in this day and world there is no place for affection.
And so, I am cynical of my abstraction.
And bored of being called an aberration.
Disenchanted with the word called love;
Merely a word, apparently denoting a treasure trove,
Of emotions so flighty that they are a myth.
So I am giving up on this business forthwith.
From this moment forth my heart shall bear a sign:
"Keep out,  Trespassers prosecuted on crossing this line".

Insomnia

As the night rolls on, turns midnight blue.

Blanks stars one by one; they were too good to be true.

Catching stars with fishing lines seem flimsy.

Seeing dreams with open eyes is just another whimsy.

And as dawn breaks horizon with its shattering golden light,

Lending to the dark soulless night daily sight.

Sleep has hidden a tired weary soul in its gossamer veil.

Dreaming with closed eyes; dreams of any other kind seem to pale.

And when the sunlight tickles my eyelids with her playful rays.

Eyelashes hug each other; fervently wishing nights were its days.

Battling a losing fight, squeezing my eyes tight shut.

Demanding the rather lovely dream not be so cruelly ‘cut’.

But all good things come to an end, and repose is finally lost.

Blank Noise

The red string has snapped at last.

My boat is docked safe in harbor now.

Rubbing my slate clean mind-numbingly slow;

Looking with eyes of stone on the setting sun,

Wondering when the next storm is about to come.

There have been too many things to deal with lately.

A crazy crazy time, life’s been a turbulent sea.

My head is speaking a language I don’t understand.

So I rest safe tethered to the dock now,

And here I shall stay till the noise dies out.