Dearth of Memories

                     I
  

Has an ant ever crossed an ocean
Or a swan reached the sun 
Has any flower ever saved a thorn
Or lost love ever won

                    II

I scratched;
Upon the whitewashed wall of my sanctum 
My nails bled
With the semicolons and commas
But the pain that rested
Like autumn in my chest
Stayed 
The heartbeats shifting dark roots and yellow leaves
A raw pulse 
Decaying 
With each bartered breath 
(Perhaps I have written these lines before
Or perhaps I have felt the same
Long time back
When out of the blue 
The blackness took over
Like a bubble of bile)

Sometimes I want to be another man
Someone whose shallow thoughts 
Never leaves his hollow lips
And if I were to dissect myself 
In a cold blue room 
And remove these tumours that I can feel
Lying along my spine like roadblocks
I may perhaps get better
But I do not want to be better 
Not alone and not by myself 
For I know my hand would betray 
Even if the scalpel stays loyal

So I sew my torn sweater 
One stitch at a time
And I can feel at the back of my neck
The mist beyond the window
Hiding a drowsy world
A quiet world
From the memories of Edgar Allen Poe
I don’t know…
For I am sewing my sweater
One stitch at a time

It is easier to break than build
My grandmother told me
Long ago, when my shoe size was half of what it is now 
We were sitting in the veranda 
Watching sparrows without nests
Search for shade
Her wrinkled hands were beautiful 
They knew only to give
To me, to the sparrows 
Her today for our tomorrows 
I did not understand what she meant 
Only that she meant what she said 

                    III

The face of my love
Is an enigma 
A diamond made of star dust
And dew drops 
I have seen her as none have
During hours longer than light 
In dreams deeper than the night 
And yet if I were to hold
A paintbrush 
Her shape would disappear 
In the shadows of my mind
Like fragrance does from a flower

I know her to be beautiful 
Like rainbow after rain
Or an ocean undressing at midnight 
Whispering the tales
Of sailors and their sails
And I often try
In an absentminded earnestness 
That of a child never chided 
To try and catch her featherlight hair
To hold that waterfall 
The obsidian madness as she sways
Like a soft swan 
Without silhouette 

The nights are hard
Rebels and roses
And I write of my love in poems and proses 
As I reach for the soft molasses 
Surrounding my heart
Breaking and bleeding 
From Cupid’s blue dart

She taught me to write, you know…
When all I could do was recite   
And bruise the pages 
Perhaps I with all my innocence 
Was nothing but a man wanted for my own murder 
But with her I am me;
Irrepressibly free
A child dressed in clothes too big for him.
Perhaps I never grew up after 2007
Forever eleven
An Abandoned ectoplasm
Morphed in shape by satire
Drowning in the desire
To be wanted and stay haunted
By the spectre of love

                    IV

I am rhyming the verses 
For I know nothing more
My poems are to the paper
What waves are to the shore

Make A Wish

The sky begins
At the edge of your smile
And I am the star
You chose to find it
Willing to fall
To leave it all
Just to be the reason
Behind it 

Transparent

I painted a white line
Upon a blank canvas
And the people they praised me no more
They could not see;
That the painting was an echo
Of my silence that wasn’t seen before

The Silver In My Song

The broken flowers they fell at my feet
Gold and silver, ebony and peat
And I knew not where this road may lead
Will I find in the end what I need
And I need...
A silence in the shape of the sun
A bit of violence with the face of a nun
And someone who won't turn and run
When I face down the barrel of a gun
But hear now...
I don't have a penny to pay as your price
I spend my nights cold and filled up on rice
And I know my heart is my own greatest vice 
Always afraid that my love won't suffice
You can see...
Out there those houses of princes and kings
Whilst I can only shelter you neath my own wings
And I have no diamonds to tie our rings
Just the hollow of my chest to rest your sufferings
So beware...
Of my sweet words that may seduce and sway
They only ache so to take you away
And keep you happy come what it may
We will be children till our hair turn grey
But I know...
This poem seems just a practice in rhymes
And does not cover the cost of past crimes
But I shall spend every penny and all of my dimes
For our today and the end of our times
So...
Never forgive if you want but don't forget
The magic of those moments we met
And I wonder if it's my heart you now so hate
But wasn't our love written by the hands of the fate?
Thus I say…
The broken flowers they fell at my feet
Gold and silver, ebony and peat
And I knew not where this road may lead
Will I find in the end what I need
And I need…
You

The Nuances of My Nights

            A poet knows
        The name of all places
        And directions to none
           - Not a Poet 


I write because it hurts
And if I scream they will know my pain 
I don’t want to scream
Don’t want to shatter the serene mirror
That holds together 
All false reflections 
The world holds dear
For the blame of it
Would lie on me
And I have enough confessions to pardon 
In my soliloquy 

I slept late yesterday 
There was a tempest inside me
And my mind was anchored loose
I was swayed, buffeted
And at once painted still
As if my soul
Was the albatross 
From the Rime of the Ancient Mariner 
And I thought: 
Every murder is a suicide in a way
Isn’t it?
To surrender the right of your life to someone else
Without a fight 
There are many types of murders
Of trust, flesh and mind
Common massacres
Gruesome
One of a kind…
It’s getting dark

I should have had dinner
But the lights were too bright
And candles too dim
The plate felt soft
And the spoon too thin
Or was it me
Who felt brittle and blind
With so many dreams to dream
And so few days to do
(Now that was a lie
For I cherish my own incompetence 
Like a child does it’s once favourite but now broken toy)

I am afraid I have found
The edge of my reason
And the world beyond (And would you believe it?)
Is a mirror…
It seems me and this mirror
We are obsessed with each other
In finding faults
In pointing out to one another 
Our own shrinking horizons 
Until one of us agrees
The threshold of our limitations 

I slept late yesterday 
(No, I already said that
Pardon, it’s the mirror reflecting my memories
God I am tired)

Good night

The Mist of My Mornings

Why cry about things you can laugh at
Said the quote on my bathroom mirror
It wasn’t funny
I thought 
And smiled to myself

The nights have been short
Or perhaps it was I who has been stretched thin
Between two impossibilities 
Of being here and being there
An almost everywhere 
Every thought of mine now
Feels like a bullet through the brain
The very last; and in a way everlasting 
But new ones creep out
Out of this philosophical yeast
Growing in the dark keeps of my mind
Nurtured with cold sweat
And self taught paralysis 

The toothpaste tastes funny
Like old age
These are those days of winter 
When sadness feels warm
Like a hug or a cup of coffee 
Something to snuggle into and fall asleep 
Sadness; the elixir of a dying man
Sadness, yes
And melancholy (Pretty word) 
Made of me and the unholy:
Thoughts, dreams, desires 
Snails creeping on a wet wire

I remember a time 
When I dreamt of being a dog
And lie on the carpet 
Of fallen leaves
Dogs can dream, can’t they? (Yes)
And so I dreamt of being a dog
To come full circle 
A perfection 
My being complete
A zero

The wind from the window
Touches my face
And I blush;
Love is in the air
Or is it despair?
How can one compare?
When being utterly unaware…
(I rhymed on purpose
For they say poetry must taste like a painting)
I gargle and gag
There is blood in my spit 
A rose line 
Branching out like a symphony 
Clarinet and timpani
Violins and bassoons
Bach and Beethoven 
Mozart who died too soon
The tap turns
A thunder
The tap turns
All silence

Good morning 



 

December

My finger on the window 
Made a rainbow in the dust
And I could see my watered down mirage 
Gasping in surprise 
Laughter; a dry mist 
From the flesh of my throat 
As if my heart knew the humour 
Was the one that I wrote 
(I wonder if the people sitting at the table
Can hear, discern, decode, confirm)

I should have worn socks
It’s cold;
The floor, the walls, the ceiling 
The curtains, the furniture, the feeling
Should I wear it now?
My toes are already numb
And the ankles ache 
Yes, a mistake
To wear it now
Better to regret not wearing it at all
Than knowing the comfort I lost
It won’t solve 
Anything
As such

It is December 
I do not remember the last December 
Or the one before 
All the memories of past winters
Are glued together 
Indecipherable 
I was alone then
In more ways than one
Incomplete, high strung 
To come easily undone 
But not anymore…

She came from far
The horizon was her home 
I knew her reflection 
Was same as my own
Yet the ocean between us
This sapphire separation 
Was daunting, nigh haunting 
With adrift ships and lost anchors 
And mad sailor men upon the shore 
And lighthouses blinking 
“Advance No More”

We sell paper boats now
Made of torn poetry 
And write poems upon onion peels
And ripe tomatoes 
It’s beautiful 
The fragrance of homemade chicken
And her smile 
And that nodding head
And the dancing waist
She is happy 
So am I
This December 
So am I…

The Cold Sun of Midnight

I sleep upon the windowpane 
And the glass cracks under my face
Like lightning from my breath 
The night below is strange;
Captured stars howling
On streets and in houses 
As people dance
To hide the shadow of their shame
I can smell their perfume here
Thirty stories high
Scent filled with lost sleep and sadness 
It numbs me
My throat, my voice
And I choke without a choice 
(Should I shift? Should I turn?
I do…and the thunder swims to my belly
The glass gasps
But the shattering never comes)

Sound of a million footsteps 
Collapse into a single chord
Time’s thread
This linear, pinpoint eternity 
Do I merge or do I dare
Far foolish when being aware
That there are no ripples in the ocean
Just reflections of the air
Lives, candles 
Last days in wreath
Desire turned dream
Dream turned to death 

I now see the eyelashes 
Left by a lost time
For cinders on the shore
For hearts saying no more
For children born sans choice
Once people now toys
And so the dying swans dance 
Vying for a chance
To nibble the breadcrumbs 
Of broken down plans
And I, this vain, stitched flesh in pain
Lie supine, and divine, my tears through rain
And sing against the chorus
Those verses that say
Ask and you shall get
And to get you must pray
As if prayers are questions 
As if questions would find a way
As if ways would take me home
As if home is for what I pray

So I await
Under the cold sun of midnight 
Watching myself
Falling out of sight
First a man
Then a memory 
Now a stranger  
Forever a stray
A silhouette 
Some shadow 
All silence 
Is what I say

Ether

I rest my faults on my tongue
And though it is textured as glass
The taste is of raspberry
Or blood
I fail to distinguish
My throat hurts
From the cuts
The bed is warm
Like unwavering ash
Like a tired pyre
And I search with numb fingers
My eyes; closed now
For this is a dream
I am not dead
For this is a dream
There is no bed
The room I wake up to is all ochre
And I am naked waist up
Breath fills my belly
And I shiver as the cold air claims my hunger
My lungs, this ribcage holding together
Heartbeats tearing to escape
Stands out 
Like fingers from my skin
I am a man no more
Just random thoughts on a paper
And my infinitesimal existence
Like rings of rising vapour
I remember being beautiful
I remember being a being
I remember writing those lyrics
Which no man could ever sing
But it is cold now
And I feel I am too old to be young
Now it is cold
And I know I am too young to be old
The winter is at the window    
And it is not going to wait
The fire is long gone
Now I am just a butterfly under the blanket
And I would have closed my eyes
Had the pillow not snored back
Whispering to me
All the things that I lack
Privy to my dreams
It does so on my behalf
So when my dream does shatters
I am not alone when I laugh

Razzmatazz

Dry twigs wrestle the wind 
Shadows burn on the ground 
Here I stand in the center 
And the world turns around 
With yellow leaves laughing 
White sand dyed brown
In Nameless nothingness 
I named a pronoun 
All of me
All of me
At the bottom of this sea
Sand dunes shrunk to seashell 
Like past framed into memory 

I watch dazed morning 
Walk drunk upon the shore
Where my footsteps on the sand 
Leave footprints no more
As if all of my life 
Was a mirage from the start
A mirror holding together 
A man falling apart 

All of me
All of me
At the bottom of this sea
In the sky a sun wrinkled
And stars breaking free
Am I drowning 
Am I drowning 
Should I breathe this darkness and lay
As a dead man in a dying womb being fed everyday 
The same old desires 
The same old silver songs 
The same old praise and promises
That nothing would go wrong

And only if only
I could no longer be here
Be a past that never happened 
And a future always near
But never coming together 
With the rhythm of our heart
An end that is unending 
A beginning that never did start
You and me, you and me
The Sand and the sea
Away forever 
Our little infinity 

The edges of the world 
Like pages from a play
A Recurring razzmatazz 
Occurring everyday 
The blue’s beats
Jarring jazz
And ballads on the way 
Razzmatazz, razzmatazz 
As Liquored lovers say
“You be thought and I the mind 
To reminisce and remind
That love is not litmus
To be tested everyday 
Let it flower, let it grow
Be careful what you sow
For the soil takes it all
Your flight and your fall
And it’s the way of the crowd
To take as truth what is loud 
While our love is all silence 
Strong sans the violence 
So take care of the petals 
They are flesh and not metal
And do not look for reflection 
Till the water; it has settled”

Dry twigs wrestle the wind 
Shadows burn on the ground 
Here I stand at the edge 
And the world is not round 
Black leaves moan 
Under heels; trodden down
In Nameless nothingness 
I named a pronoun 
All of me
All of me
At the bottom of this sea
Falling nowhere
With two skies above me 
All of me
All of me
At the bottom of this sea
Fading in the distance
Once man now memory