09 October 2014

It's another usual nightmare that you get


Oh, what is not random, if this is?
Random?

Filling the air with ecstasy
Reminding everyone born and thinks he or she is still alive
Or to be

They contended themselves with something easier and agreeable – then
Grins fall down on us, drench us
And leave us all wet with grins and more grins
Understand, with their eyes done blind.
We get our own doubts.

To places far away, to lands far away
Yes its right, no it’s wrong, no?

Cut to another moment - military style, shampoo your shaven head
Name? What’s in a name? A pose is a pose is a pose

Just because your legs are long and because you have a tattoo on your lower back
Inside the murmur of every secret alibi
When the autumn moon shines above
Secrets need not open up

Just let the rattling breeze be
23 Across: Lumps of mud made into round shape (3,3) M-U-D-P-I-E! Easy!
It’s time to walk away, for you have solved the puzzle
None else but you knows it, but it doesn’t matter

It’s only October
Again, all over again
Nights of endless cups of coffee – from cups that are bottomless

We live the super way
And I still know not how – we can ask ourselves the same old questions
On such endless nights of endless questions
It is the same room after all

We get good at forgetting every face lost
Then we try to put our fingers on the lovely apparition
The shape of everything that went wrong

Keats’s line is just one another thing that hides our secrets
And we both know what it hides, and the secrets
And the code words to open treasures

But that is only one thing
Ducks are just simple birds and the curious rhymes
Just that they are all over eaten on time
Watching people, wanting to talk and all

There were dragons that rode the clouds
Up, above – up and above

And how nothing is all there is
Said he, that it was somebody’s fault but ours
But it was evil

Here now, this sounds good to me

07 July 2014

Uh, oh, oh!

So, who’s going to go?
Go?
Yeah, go, you know?
Oh!
So, who’s going to go?
Why, though?
For a better tomorrow?
Everybody says that, you know?
Is that a problem though?
No?
No!
Oh!
So, who’s going to go?
Go?
Yeah, go, you know?
Oh!
Will you go?
I think so…
Ok, cheerio!

08 May 2014

the wolf and the crane and the moon and the clouds and the night

and then the moon sighs and breathes out a few clouds
the ripples on the surface of the lake cut
the moon into thin silver slivers -
no mercy - the breeze pushes those silver blades
to the edges of the lake

the crane stands on its one leg, looking at the moon
and the clouds and they sing their blue song together
the silver gray of the mindless night hides the tune
with its veils

across the sky jumps the one winged flying wolf
whistling its own song - ooo-ooo-ooo and the world
freezes for a moment, nothing moves

the feathers of the crane all shining a-white, the moon
light and the wing of the wolf that slowly flaps
the crane and the wolf - moving moment after moment -
through their lives, in shades of abnormality

especially on such nights, and quite so often - on
many a day too - with similar thoughts
punctuating their every breath
'why did i do it then?'
'why didn't i do it then?'

it's just
the wolf and the crane and the moon and the clouds and the night

07 May 2014

now

'How, how?' said god
'Bow wow!' said dog

25 April 2014

in between

in between dreams
happens the dream that always happens
in between

05 April 2014

again


Cat at my window –
Burning coal bits for eyes

Diamonds! Stars! Lightning!
Beautiful, yet a little frightening

The night before – there were skies
Lethal stars, similar glow

09 August 2013

not

not a day - and yes,
not a dream &
not a night ~ naked ~
the orange year -
segments seven - plus
plus seven or seven plus
plus - all - wrapped ~
around a nut that fell
shell

15 June 2013

cowngaroo

you
kangaroo!

too
blue?

ooh
deja vu

do
undo

rue
misconstrue

ooh
et tu?

clue?
shoe!

deep blue?
bright blue!

shoo
kangaroo

boo!
boo!

screw
you!

moo!
moo?

how?
cow!

kangaroo?
cowngaroo!

08 June 2013

tv rainbow

i didn't ask for a TV rainbow
but for a real one - the static only
makes it worse - on TV or in real

life?

amen


I like this day the way it is –  ah,
It’s bright, it's pleasantly cold as the
Cool wind blows, the leaves move

I feel good, I feel blessed
To be me, in this day that is
Bright – ah, I’m alive here and now

Suddenly at a distance, from
There near the horizon a large
Form, ferocious – takes shape

And it grows larger in size
It moves from there to here –
Straight here, where I am

It can’t be me anymore – so, sorry –
It’s you, who sees the large form
Moving towards you, you’re afraid

It grows larger and larger, the
Same wind blows but you don’t
Like the day or the wind anymore

It’s a dragon, an angry one
(What is worse, than a dragon to ruin
Your good day, is only an angry dragon)

And so you run – you run
For your life – away from here –
You run and you run and you run

The dragon chases you – you
Run hard and fast to escape the dragon
Your day is not so good anymore pant, puff

In the end some miracle happens
And I am saved – the dragon
Slayed – some miracle, oh well

My great day is back again
The brightness and the cool wind
And it’s not you anymore, sorry

19 May 2013

Face


A bare wall, badly broken – patches of white paint here and
There

There she stands with her world of worries in thought bubbles
Invisible

Inside her head and there behind on the wall to her left – a black
Broken square

Almost a frame to a spray drawn face – half alive on the wall and
The other

Exists somewhere else, not on the wall, not in the thought bubbles
Invisible

Inside her head but out of the black broken frame on the wall
Behind

18 April 2013

worlds

your world, as you say, is inside your head
and the world mine, is inside the head, mine

the world ours -
is nothing beyond the worlds - yours
and mine

our world - is what we made
for ourselves - inside our own heads
and of none besides - removing us

from us, there is nothing else that
has to stay, but us

they are nowhere there, in there -
their world theirs,
made inside their heads

recreating our world, when we make it -
worlds - yours and mine
they have their own worlds - inside their heads

alone and together

27 February 2013

stars

you can do it once again, tonight -
to look at the stars of this night and search
for your name or the other name -
the stars don't really care - for
twinkling is their duty and so they'll
twinkle on - the way they did the night before
or the night before that, when the world hadn't
changed much with you

when the sun rises and then when
the stars disappear - the names that you had
searched for, may become invisible for a while but
they never disappear - how many names could
one night write on its sky, with the stars and how
many could be searched for, and read?

names searched for in stars become invisible -
they don't disappear, neither are they forgotten
somewhere or the other

the night skies of waking moments - and the
night skies of dreams when you sleep
are essentially different but the stars
that twinkle - they always feel like they are
all the same, night after night...

10 December 2012

a semicolon and the end of a fish

Pigs don't fly, they say -
But I've seen fish that do
Flying fish run across, flitting away -
Neon purple wings and fairy feathers
Sundays on to Saturdays and on once again
Tuesdays have always been full
Of promises of grand lunches -
To forget the profundity and then the profanity;
That ensued; time flew by - standing
By the fence, forty percent
On this side - with no room for a period
A full stop was only a possibility -
But not a hope - a semicolon has always stood
In between - separating parts -
Indicating pauses longer than a coma -
With one missing m, the state
Of prolonged forgetfulness, but shorter - than
A period at least seven years long - as
The dictionaries say and try to explain -
Fish fly and on to the other side
Of the sky, where flying fish are no miracles
With no periods and no stops that are full
There on the other side remain till the end
Are only a semicolon and the end of a fish

06 October 2012

end of rainy evenings

late evening rain
writes a thousand letters
on the outside of a glass window

on the wall of every room

when seen from inside
the little bits of poetry from behind
can make one cry

or make one just ignore them

when in a hurry
to not think of many things, anything
and thus ends an evening

05 October 2012

N

i can say 'nothing' in seven languages
 - i said 7 in seven different languages
they all meant nothing, like they should
 -  they meant what they should have meant
and what they could
 - have

29 September 2012

38

some days
last a lifetime

some weeks
are seven years long

a life time - less
than years thirty and eight

the end
is a little less than a second

dreams last
only till he wakes up

the dreams last
only till he falls asleep

17 June 2012

_*_

last page of my book
the candle dies
the end
no more shadows

i fall asleep

16 June 2012

last night

i left my windows open last night
there was moonlight on my bed

i pushed my sheet away
i shrouded myself
in the silver light that spread
all over the bed

the moon didn't let me sleep
i didn't let the moon sleep

through the night we spoke -
me and the moon, i think it was
just us, who were awake
the last night 

talking about everything
that slept

june

so there has been a face change
'ah worry not, it's just a phase' i hear them say
what gently falls down from the tree is not just a leaf
well-worn faces, faces, faces they fall
it's june, like it was the year before and the year before that
it could have been may it could have been november
it just happens to be june
it's not just now, almost always - out of tune
pieces of broken faces lie scattered there
below the tree
they still say 'ah worry not, it's only a phase'
his face too, her face too, falls slowly, from the tree

10 June 2012

now

i want it now.
what? you want it now too?
ok. we want it now.
but you do know that we won't get it, right?
come, sit here.
say 'i want it now!'

we won't get it, but asking for it never hurts.
say 'i want it now!'
i've been here since morning.
i've been chanting ever since -
'i want it now!'

go on, you say it too.
i want it now.
i want it now.
i want it now.

ah, if you get bored - somewhen in between
just look up at the sky, for a moment or two
and continue.

i want it now.
i want it now.
i want it now.

10 March 2012

^o)

aimless fish fly the sky having lost their way
oh it's another day the restless dogs bark
bent spoons reflect your moon and eye
sit by the fence afraid of the dark
on Y branches near the junction are nests
inside which sleep little birds yet to fly
mother beaks with dead worms hover above
isn't it a song worth remembering
isn't it a sight worth a day past, to last?

02 January 2012

XIII

december was long.
the fog blinded everyone when the head-man shouted for help.
january is not mine.
the sun shines hard and hot all day long.
february in the beginning is full of promises.
the rest of it is a war against boredom.
march only shifts positions to shadow venus.
pluto no more, not to mind neptune and uranus.
april would be a new thing again.
a flower is all i can make, call me god.
may the uncertain, make hay.
get a pen and a thousand new words for the world.
june, bring in the clowns and dancing monkeys.
that is only half of what one should expect.
july, should be the time for a breath.
time to see eye to i and say 'it's not me'.
august gathered dust.
stacked upon newspapers, time to let it be.
september will rust.
iron men, steel willed walk the streets of the forbidden city.
october goes so fast.
before one knows, the present is past.
november, thank you very much.
you can keep it for yourself, in bards we trust.
december is long.
read - read - read; white and red.

#732

it's the last droplet of coffee in the mug.
the news in the papers is nothing new, retelling the way the world has been.
it was the same sun that shone yesterday that heats up every window now.
silently i pretend to ignore the change in the air.
with the pretensions spelt out, nothing has changed.
the promise of forever waves its flag in the wind that blows.
a song scribbled on scrap bits of paper is the sweetest.
there is no single word for the end of everything.

24 December 2011

@

when you know it's not a cat, where are you at
when you dust your door mat, where are you at
when you know not where you sat, where are you at
when later is now is nowhen, where are you at
when there is here is nowhere, where are you at
when there's a new question, where are you at
when you ignore question marks, where are you at

22 December 2011

7C@9C

cloud nine floated through the open gates of heaven seven.
sitting on the cloud, he floated effortlessly.
cats that stood below looked up and mewed at the cloud nines that moved.
after the thirteenth cloud nine moved in, the gates of heaven seven closed.
she woke up and when it was time for her to peel her eyes away from her dreams, when she looked up it was too late when the gates had closed already.
one of the cats in heaven seven that looked up to see moving cloud nines was her cat, that had disappeared.
because the gates were closed and also because the cat had forgotten her, they both remained strangers forever.

##

ok, so we've got shining tiles on our floor.
after a few months of chasing deers we come home and when we open the doors, there is a thin film of dust on the floor.
the floor still reflects our forms standing at the door, reflections with hazy edges, like our images in some memory where we have already started fading.
last time we saw ourselves on this floor, we had lots of hair on our heads.
chasing deers can be very tiring and it makes people grow old sooner than they really do.
we walk on the tiled floor, leaving foot prints on the dust film and also let a few strands of our hair fall on the floor with every step.

21 December 2011

#

I sat alone on the mountains
For a brief moment

The world had moved
Very far away