[ Nothing is Real ]

XIII

2012-01-02T14:49:00.000+05:30

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

2012-01-02T14:34:00.002+05:30

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.

@

2011-12-24T09:40:00.001+05:30

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

7C@9C

2011-12-22T19:08:00.000+05:30

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.

##

2011-12-22T07:52:00.001+05:30

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.

#

2011-12-21T19:12:00.000+05:30

I sat alone on the mountains
For a brief moment

The world had moved
Very far away

wait

2011-10-28T08:04:00.000+05:30

let them fingers rest a while
when the eyes close to see patterns
in moments real or surreal that can happen
to one or many with no time to expect nothing
no more pointless stars, no more pointed agitation
sleepless days and nights over blank sheets of paper
built are my forts on real mountain slopes where you ran
playing screaming laughing crying flying your blue green kite
that once flew high and floated slow in my room gathering cobwebs
i'll wait a little longer than required, longer than usual, to learn our song

before we sing it

Telescope

2011-10-20T20:36:00.004+05:30

An eye for the sun and woolen balls for floating clouds

She lost a tooth

“I’m done with all my youth and a tooth

Is nothing much to lose”

Said the old woman looking trough the telescope
“The stars have shifted a bit - and the moon has a squint

The leaves have wrinkles and the tree is more brown

Beyond the distant hills lies the time with my name on it

I’ll remember the first time I stepped in a brook

When the flowing stream looped around my ankles

That flowed to the sea and is now back again

As rain

I don’t care, I’m done with all my youth and a tooth

Is nothing much to lose”

She said, peeling her eye away from the telescope

escape

2011-09-29T00:08:00.002+05:30

another night of cryptic words, the shape of cobwebs
floating all around, slowly falling
what could keep some occupied would keep one alone -
thanks to that, thanks to this night of everyone's preoccupation
3000 words in 5 minutes, 300 seconds
another five years from now, you should have learnt
to fly away, out of places you don't belong - away from places where
you know you shouldn't be at
cobwebs the shape of words would still fall
but wouldn't bother you no more

helpless

2011-09-27T21:16:00.000+05:30

we left the sun behind us
and walked on our shadows
even the shadow
of my outstretched hand couldn't
stop the flower from falling

692

2011-09-25T22:21:00.004+05:30

6 is the nine on its head
9 sits smug between eight and ten
2 more and then eleven
that about 692, enough said!

out here, now

2011-09-25T11:54:00.002+05:30

out here, now,
a little more than a mile away from here
you are already an old person
the early winter breeze nods familiarity
and the yellow leaves that fall to touch your face
are already familiar
stray dogs at the corner of the street
do not stop to look at you with suspicion anymore
the world is the usual place as it used to be,
few sneezes ago, the same old world
as it is out here, now
where you already are an old person

chamutangete

2011-09-11T10:13:00.001+05:30

he who was the king was a king no more
he who was the king was a pawn
when the winds of time changed direction
when the wind was locked up in cages
of black lines drawn left to right and top to bottom

he who became the pawn was a pawn no more
he who was the pawn was a horse
when there were people and things
to be moved from here to there or there to here
when the war broke out, when more was less

he who became the horse was a horse no more
he who was the horse was a bird
when the world grew smaller and their thirst grew large
when the cage wasn't big no more
to go out and look around when all was nothing

he who became a bird was a bird no more
he who became a bird was a looking glass
when all around was all of what was there already
in the shapes of the king, the pawn, the horse and the bird
showing everything that changed, without a change

tingle

2011-08-30T21:36:00.000+05:30

i see stars, the skies don't hold any

they cut concrete and granite slabs
with metal blades that incessantly whizz
and zzzzzz making my teeth tingle

i can't sleep this night, the sky is
a leaky roof, there's rain on my face
and the clouds bother my eye

i see stars the skies don't hold any

newsqueak

2011-08-30T21:09:00.001+05:30

plusgood - better
than better and the best is
doubleplusgood? that isn't
un-good! ha ha, un-ha-ha can
only leave me sad. "try" you say
and you is not i or not him
un-i or un-him? uni is not two and
that is the un-i-versal truth and it's not
prose. un, two buckle my shoe. 3 four
un-open the door. brr.
it's un-warm or un-un-cold.
newspeak. non-old-speak.
"newspeak?" is that the peak of news?
peak of non-olds? or speak new or
non-old non unspeak or
just plain new-speak? un-fat dictionaries
are thin. what remains?
brr.

stiletto

2011-08-19T20:40:00.001+05:30

angels walked,
flew around my back-yard
their warmth, still warm on my bean-bag
the shape of their bottoms.

when gone i see
my floor littered, mud stains
the shape of foot-steps
in lost order.

i wake up
and one look around tells me -
that sure was one night i lived.

ping-pong-ping-pong-ping-pong-ping-pong-ping-pong-ping-pong

2011-08-15T20:57:00.004+05:30

and tonight, they'll tell you stories of monsters
one eyed ones, three eyed ones and rare occasional two eyed ones
like the ones you drew in your sunday notebook
they are supposed to play ping-pong with you
first they ping and then you pong and then there is
ping-pong-ping-pong-ping-pong-ping-pong-ping-pong-ping-pong
till the end of eternity or till the border of either's boredom
whichever comes first
the monsters are friendly, they say, they make you laugh, they say
and make you fall in love with them, if you're not afraid, they say again -
if you think twice to walk through dark streets, the game is not for you
monsters wink and monsters stick out tongues
or monsters grin at you with their mouths open like capital Ds
and when you think it is a decent time to ignore monsters
and that you should get back to your not so abnormal life
then in between they ping and then you pong and then there is
ping-pong-ping-pong-ping-pong-ping-pong-ping-pong-ping-pong
till the end of eternity or till the border of either's boredom
whichever comes first

flip book

2011-08-15T12:37:00.003+05:30

to
to stop
to stop at
to stop at a
to stop at a frame
to stop at a frame of
to stop at a frame of a
to stop at a frame of a flip
to stop at a frame of a flip book
to stop at a frame of a flip book there
to stop at a frame of a flip book there by
to stop at a frame of a flip book there by stopping
to stop at a frame of a flip book there by stopping time
to stop at a frame of a flip book there by stopping time then
to stop at a frame of a flip book there by stopping time then and
to stop at a frame of a flip book there by stopping time then and there
to stop at a frame of a flip book there by stopping time then and there with
to stop at a frame of a flip book there by stopping time then and there with nothing
to stop at a frame of a flip book there by stopping time then and there with nothing to precede
to stop at a frame of a flip book there by stopping time then and there with nothing to precede and
to stop at a frame of a flip book there by stopping time then and there with nothing to precede and nothing
to stop at a frame of a flip book there by stopping time then and there with nothing to precede and nothing to
to stop at a frame of a flip book there by stopping time then and there with nothing to precede and nothing to follow

caught

2011-08-15T10:26:00.000+05:30

the time it takes to run and to hide
is only the time that is required
for an electrical signal to move

from the eyes to the brain and
for a similar one to move - from
the brain to the feet

a delay here or a delay there
(lest the world stops still)
is all it takes to get caught

last

2011-08-13T11:05:00.000+05:30

the first and the only thing is not the last
if snakes are to be included too
with apples ripe juicy tempting
that fade till tomorrow to come
back again to tempt

learn a song and sing a lesson
draw a few faces in words
for the first and the only thing is not the last
and it is not to last till eternity
or at least till tomorrow or the day after

the river

2011-08-12T21:02:00.001+05:30

pen knives, cuts, plasters, blood stains, old books, sweat, tears
old men, pens, pen holders, ink-stained-thumbs, another poem, another day
shaggy hair, pock-marks, lectures, comic books
coffee mugs, africa, jumping goats, the lean one that should not be named but thought about
twins, jump and bounce, coca cola
thick framed spectacles, howl, one breath, dynamo, stars
the road, perception, jump, hop, step if you should
ruins, forts, orange red skies, why not
green lights, zebra crossing, oh look out, ah?, aaah
screech, oh that poem unwritten, oh what woes
leech, petrol, rain water, rainbows
a room alone, you, i

ends

2011-08-12T20:49:00.000+05:30

"oh well, your spectacles can use some cotton
lest you like your vision with clouds"
were the last lines that were spoken
before there were creaks in the dead silence of the night.

"oh the neighbours!"
"oh they are at it too..."

and then after a few dizzyingly impossible almost dreams
then there were difficult faces
that changed shape with the blinding light.

"oh did you see it?"
"oh yes, did you too?"

if only it was another certain morning
it would have been epic
but there were cats to be fed and monsters
to be shown their way out
oh what beginnings, oh what ends!

high octave c

2011-08-12T20:35:00.000+05:30

with the society kept aside
alone inside a room with cobwebs on the top left corners
the high octave c note that comes to stay
inside the ears, 'hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm'
as if after a slap on the left cheek
is the hum of a bee (or nottabee)
but just painful existence -
yet so joyous for the sand that flows through the hour glass
and a few hands that rock back and forth
the boat that sails through the seas of solitude
would play the black and white keys of the moonlit sky-walk
when the way is unclear and uncertain
72 should be an easy number to live away

seas

2011-08-06T21:45:00.002+05:30

A thousand stories have been told ever since the seas dried up.
Where are the rain clouds that sucked the seas dry?
There is no sea blue no more, no aqua marine.
There is sea brown but there is no blue.
Blue?
No blue.

The forty fifth story was about a crane that digested a droplet of the sea and flew.
It looked like a cloud they said.
The sea was never to be seen; fishes bought new walking sticks and walked the land.
Story seventy seven was about a mother who couldn’t cry anymore and that the sea dried up in shame.
Blue?
No blue.

Story nine hundred and seven is about the gigantic plant that grew from the ground to the sky that sucked up all the oceans.
Another story - five hundred or so said the seas migrated to mars on an autumn evening.
Sleepers slept and those who woke up woke up to a land of no seas.
My windows face not the sea.
There is no sea for at least a hundred miles from here.
Our camels walk on sand with hardened feet.
At the end of the world where there were supposed to be seas, there is more dry land that brings you back to where you started from.
Blue?
No blue.

4x1, 4x2

2011-08-04T22:02:00.001+05:30

peach walls, pink gowns, smooth legs and calf muscles.
a woman with a mole on her lower lip passes by.
the room shrinks a little, and then a little more and then a little more till it is the size only that of a match box.
'am i better than her?' the other she asks and says she started thinking about it the very minute she saw the woman with a mole on her lower lip.
by the side, coffee noisily brews in over priced machines.
'i should think so too, that i am better than her' he says.
the picture on the wall opposite in time comes back to life and smiles and then laughs.
raven reflection on the sea surface and at the end of the sea where running streams join the ocean.
'oh, i only overflow this morning' - somebody screams.
the skies get clearer and the weather, more pleasant.
mornings can feel like evenings and dawns are dusky.
the sky can be gray or blue or black, but that morning it was green.
purple dreams, pink thoughts, oh when is it the time for bed?
someone steps on an empty matchbox and flattens it.
rain washes away debris and crushed cardboard boxes.

a garden imprint, a garden in print

2011-07-31T09:23:00.003+05:30

only two nights old in the new place, he felt his insides turn all floral printed with the sweet scent of wild gardens, grass and pale lilac flowers that peeped out of polythene bags till late in the night of the next morning of tuesdays on the mountain whose steep uphills were scaled by the king's men who played their drums that sounded like leathery foot steps with painful wheezy breaths that were notes from an ill played flute, oh my god, oh timid brother, where would you be now, if not here and if not now?

wham

2011-07-31T07:26:00.001+05:30

with a hammer
wham wham wham wham
and another, one last, for sake
of satisfaction
seven blows at least
wham wham wham wham
through the head of the nail - through
the head of them (all) who should
think alike
a lesson learnt and a lesson taught
in driving nails through hard wood
wham wham wham wham
a lesson sent deep inside a head
wham wham wham wham
4 more whams and a wham

unruled

2011-07-31T07:01:00.001+05:30

bound unruled white paper
notebooks
four rupees a piece, for no rules -
rest all
have at least 25 lines on their faces
page after page!
but these new ones where the faces are
loosely bound to the
spine - have no rules at all, and they say
it is immoral to be so, free love.
that is me. that is us. that is how
we and the things are.
who do they think they are? endless and immortal? not me
oh no. never.

a fault and 12 lines (or 13)

2011-07-31T06:56:00.000+05:30

i woke up
this morning hungry
a growl in my
stomach

it's nobody's
fault but mine
so nobody's problem
but mine

so for this morning
not just hunger! i got
a fault, a problem
& 12 lines, all mine

bird eggs and beards

2011-07-30T08:53:00.002+05:30

oh you should know me, don't you think?
i see you've grown a new face
and i bought a new face for myself too
so you see if it is hard?
see, i was able to see through you in
no time at all. your beard let me see
through and showed me
a face that i knew from before - after
keeping aside time and the dirt
that it brought with it, unto faces.
oh do you rememeber that little
egg that we hid inside that tree hole?
there are little pieces of broken egg
shell there now, for the bird flew away
long ago and made new eggs in other
distant tree holes when beards grew dense
on faces yours and mine. but still this dawn
i can see you behind your new face
oh you should know me too, don't you think?

black and yellow

2011-07-24T09:48:00.004+05:30

black and yellow
       (oh hi, hello!)
as on a banana peel
the way they can make you feel
   of yesterday and the rest of the past
                              the striking contrast
        beautifully slippery
head to the ground, feet flippery
                       out of control too
      (ah how do                                              you do?)
                                   and the memory or shadow
of anything yellow
                                                                      is black
(are you as yet, back?)

blast

2011-07-13T12:41:00.000+05:30

momentary madness after
the first two hours -
that steers one through
the rest of the day.

when it rains, it rains
thinkers know it is not
a monday when it is
if it rains, it pours.

play day

2011-07-11T20:43:00.001+05:30

balloons play me
when it’s the day
to play hide and seek

Bombay, July 2011

2011-07-10T10:03:00.000+05:30

This is not the best of times, not the worst
But this is just time, time and time
The best and worst are already past
Or are on their way here, but it’s not now
Because here has shown me some good
And some bad somewhen and then there
Are they that were there in times
Of good or bad

I mind not the rain outside the window
Or the mist on the insides of the window pane
Of this air-conditioned room somewhere here
On the highway with perpetual horns blowing
Through my head, and inside alone I
Only struggle to answer my question –
Libido or Libidon’t?

one night at the bookstore

2011-06-18T11:34:00.000+05:30

one night at the bookstore
is all it takes to get the pages turn
there will be book marks old and new
that stay put, pegged in time

you'll find pages dog eared - not by you
but by them, for them to come back here
land on that page, turn around time and
go from there again

but once the last page turns
there is nothing more, but for a few creases
at the edges of pages and impressions
of book marks. the book isn't the book anymore

okay?

2011-06-13T21:55:00.000+05:30

o k a y
k
a
y

so both ways - say this way or that
across or down, we see what the clues
lead us to

let us make the clues more cryptic
for ourselves to understand
'4 letters, spelt o-k-a-y' is more than lame

it can't be that easy, ok? okay?
let us make it difficult. try a little more
i don't know. this is a difficult puzzle.

it's only crossword
left to right across, top to bottom
down. leaves me cross.

For-yes-t

2011-06-10T21:25:00.005+05:30

Last time it was when the city was flooded and drowned in wine
When wine tasted like salt water, the Bay of Bengal
Fishes swam through wide eyes opened wider in wonder
Black brown of the skin melted into the late evening skies

Remember what they did inside the glass rooms, closed doors
Radioactivity: why was he thrown out of his clan for taking his
Eyes off the things that they said he should have had his eyes
Unwaveringly fixed upon and keep their tomorrows in his eyelids?

His pet deer was digested when he was sleeping and his teeth
Turned another paler shade of brown darker. He did not snore
And spoke words when he dreamed and offered cigarettes
To make friends. I’ll forgive him, for I liked him, doesn’t

Really matter if none really cares. I do, care in a way and
Care not the other.

know it's tomorrow when

2011-06-04T10:42:00.000+05:30

along with the doors that were brought down shut
came down every possibility of flood and chance
encounters.

not to think twice to get down, hurry and get out
the faces at elevators have faded when the doors
came down.

eight bit digital displays cannot write every letter of that
name, could be tried, yes, but cannot be the same and
it's well known.

a strange relief, a strange sense of sadness, a strange
sense of how it would be to get down and out without
apprehensions.

but time will tell and only time can and sure will tell
when days bloom, mondays and thursdays without
green lights.

Walk on water

2011-05-22T22:10:00.000+05:30

Saturday morning I bought
My new shirt with long orange
Sleeves and wore it the next
Morning. There was a missing
Sunday in between that none realized.

Then there grew a sea outside my door
Salt water and lots of sand at my
Doorstep. The sky became more blue
And the clouds, more silver fluffy.

I wore my weekend slippers
Blue strapped, light rubber.

I stepped out and walked on water
Without a thought. Only half way through
Did I realize the water I walked upon.
Quickly I drowned and swam my way
To the next door.

Walking is easy, and on water, till I
Know it is water beneath.
(And I remembered stories)

Moses got the sea in splits
& made his way through.
Had he walked on water,
He might've become big
Bigger - a god, even!

poles

2011-05-17T19:53:00.000+05:30

night. motion.

2011-05-17T19:52:00.000+05:30

rain. needles.
the moon. clouds.
beautiful. eerie.

Brevity

2011-05-08T23:10:00.001+05:30

To describe a day in four lines
A lifetime in four whines
Brevity is the essence
They say
To complain of existence
Every day

the clown

2011-05-08T22:47:00.001+05:30

the mc donald's clown laughs all the time
in yellow and red and black

he sits on the bench near the take-away counter
with his natural perpetual grin
with one arm stretched out on the back-rest

people sit on the bench
next to the friendly clown and get
their pictures clicked
the clown laughs
even in the pictures

it's impossible to believe
that his grin would stay on his face
& that he'd keep his arm stretched
on the bench back-rest
in the same friendly way
awaiting someone unknown
to sit beside him and pose

when the lights are gone late in the night
when no one's watching

blf

2011-05-05T11:46:00.002+05:30

amply, fly.

2011-05-04T21:16:00.000+05:30

a silent empty room
a blank page in front to fill

silence is never more loud
blank pages, never more blank

being alone, amplifies
this and that

L

2011-04-11T21:41:00.000+05:30

Not a Monday

2011-03-20T09:46:00.000+05:30

on blessed nights of late saturdays
moons grow brighter and larger
33% they say
and it isn't hard to believe

and a little earlier, it was time
when friday nights ripened
with bamboo poles that could
take unwanted liberties through
wanted windows and news
of the world that covered
the outside of an all too familiar
world from the inside

it was time for short-hand
recipes for baby faced angels
or angel faced babies

Scrabble

2011-02-12T11:26:00.000+05:30

have you ever thought about it?

2011-02-09T22:32:00.002+05:30

since october we have spent our days trying to be proper.
remember all the words spoken with much caution
and all the things done with utmost care?
february now, and still haven't we mastered
the art of being ourselves with ourselves.
if it is the fear that should keep us well behaved
(the way we would want to think of, as the way to be -
not to hurt nor to cross the boundaries of personal space)
we might not have to take these fears seriously
for what lies in real without the put on proper-ness
in the absense of unspeakable fears
beyond every definition of perceived reality
could be much more brilliant and vibrant.

have you ever thought about it?

nexpect

2011-01-26T10:41:00.000+05:30

restlessness fills the insides
of the hollow shells of inspiration

hollow lightnings too
shine on the surface

something soon, at my door
will be at dawn

something soon, at my door
will beat me down

red

2011-01-13T23:45:00.003+05:30

when it took off from my thigh,
the fat mosquito's stomach
was B positive

thinkers

2011-01-10T20:01:00.002+05:30

brothers of the night

2011-01-08T23:38:00.001+05:30

my brothers of the night have gone walking -
wearing stars on their flowing streams of hair
and moons on their heads

through the woods of darkness
where there they harvest joy and sorrow

softly they walk
on grounds green and grassy -
dew droplets bending the leaves of grass

wet the soles of their feet
and harvested joy and sorrow, their souls

come back they will, having seen it all
having done it all, knowing everything
learnt they would have, painting goodbyes

on the canvas of the days of their lives
come back they will and say goodbye with a smile

my brothers of the night when they come back
will know how harvests of joy and sorrow
help everyone to learn to leave behind a fear or a droplet

of tear and to close one's eyes to
yesterdays till tomorrow, and see todays with eyes open

wide in wonder.

Heh

2011-01-08T23:22:00.002+05:30

Vortex

2011-01-08T22:15:00.000+05:30

What did you thought, ya?

2010-12-27T23:13:00.000+05:30

"Did you got my mail?" He is asking.

I am not having any idea which mail this man is talking about. So many peoples are mailing me everyday and I am having so much work to do that some days I'm not even getting time to eat my foods only.

I cannot tell him that I do not remember which mail he is meaning. No, that will spoil my imagery. Then I get an ideology.

"I could not able to open that mail" I said him, "can you able to resent it?"

Sometimes, I find it more easier to do such things and all, so that I get time to revert back to queries.

What to do, ya? At least with this escaping done, now I can go consummate my lunch in piece!

Sleep

2010-12-23T23:26:00.000+05:30

Half an Octopus (almost)

2010-12-20T21:13:00.002+05:30

2010-12-19T23:05:00.000+05:30

31

2010-11-29T23:39:00.000+05:30

hmm (shades of)

2010-11-24T23:07:00.000+05:30

hmm (nod head)
oh I see

hmm (shake head)
no I disagree

hmm! (smack lips)
ah that's good

hmm? (take mind trips)
something misunderstood

hmm... (look away)
a tough decision

hmm (just say)
a promise broken

hmm (a firm nod)
a decision made

hmm (oh my god)
the thought of something that did fade

hmm?! (eyes wide open)
something hard to trust

hmm!! (oh captain!)
another hard thrust

Rainbow

2010-11-24T22:34:00.002+05:30

Just like yesterday
Very same colours, seven
Today's rainbow too

yawn. clock.

2010-11-18T21:58:00.000+05:30

smudge

2010-11-16T21:37:00.000+05:30

e.m.i.t

2010-11-13T23:02:00.001+05:30

scratches and a dent

2010-11-13T16:25:00.003+05:30

i had almost forgotten
the yellow taxi, (almost an over sized soap box)
that was parked outside the row of doors
green, red and blue

this morning i saw that again
at the same place and on its side it had
three new scratches and a dent
that i do not remember seeing - when i
had seen it last

until next time, when i'd have almost
forgotten it again, if i am to remember
that yellow taxi, (an almost soap box)
i'll only remember it with the

scratches and the dent

(yay!)

2010-11-06T06:25:00.003+05:30

at least in my dream the night before, i got a hole (yay!) with my newly bought shirt and skirt, at no extra cost.

'free, free!' i remember the wrapper paper screaming, about the hole that came absolutely free with my new shirt and my skirt (yay!)

once worn, the hole along with the new shirt and my skirt, i remember seeing the green (yay!) of the next layer of clothing below or just pale brown (yay!) of the skin - that depended on where i chose to wear the hole that came

absolutely 'free free' with my new shirt and skirt (yay!)

M

2010-11-03T16:01:00.000+05:30

L

2010-11-03T15:59:00.000+05:30

label analytics

2010-11-03T15:58:00.000+05:30

and then to explain

2010-11-02T22:04:00.005+05:30

“You shouldn’t eat two many choc-o-late
s every single day!”

“But I should like to know why -
Can even make do with a lie!”

“Oh you’ll get to know, I’m sure before it’s too late,
And that’s all I for now can say!”

“But why oh why and how
May I not know that now?”

“For it’s too much pain
Ful, to, to you, explain!”

“But then what fun
Do you get
By not answering this one?”

“Well, don’t be upset
What you know, is what you get
(And it’s not yet done!)”

the end of the beginning

2010-11-01T21:58:00.000+05:30

the bright red side of the rainbow
(that always shows somewhere)
the topmost unseen rung of the ladder
(that always goes somewhere)
the silver lined edge of the horizon
(that always glows somewhere)
the pleasant cold end of the breeze
(that always blows somewhere)

nothing begins - for it's
only the end of the beginning
(that always burrows somewhere)

salt

2010-11-01T21:19:00.001+05:30

beside the dining table
with candle stands and wax candles, that melt
(plates of food, left untouched)

blessed be the darkness of the night
(or the ear marked pages of the book
or the end days of a week)

the rushing cars mean nothing much
(while the world doesn't really come to a halt)
i only sell salt

Variance

2010-11-01T20:44:00.003+05:30

Lazy afternoon, diffused sunshine through the pale brown curtains
Fills the room and flows on to the bedspread blue
Silenced sniffles on a double bed, and an invisible tear drop or two

Afternoons resemble each other, in past and future, and situations
Similar, oh so alike, that did or would mark an end
Of a few moments’ memories – while questions unexplained, suspend

“You might not get something you waited for, would you still stay?”
“But someday soon, you sure’d go away!”
And a sigh and a kiss

And everything amiss
“Upset you be not, for it isn’t so easy, do you hear?”
The old question of a few nights before echoes “Will you disappear?”

And with all the words spoken, framing a difficult puzzle
While the meaningless possibilities howl out and inside, wrestle
“Go figure! Nothing much to say! There, let me show you your place!”

It’s only hard to hide your tears on some chosen days.

songs

2010-10-29T19:00:00.000+05:30

while some songs only resemble
the tomorrows that I do not care about
the songs still stay on my lips
like they did, yesterday or the day before

while no song resembles
the todays that I should oh-so deal with
the songs never sing themselves
like they didn't, yesterday or the day before

while almost every song resembles
all of yesterdays that I wish to care about
the songs play hide and seek
like they did, yesterday or the day before

the difference

2010-10-22T20:03:00.002+05:30

eyes, four
moon, one
thoughts, two

clouds, sky,
infinite.

faces in blue and brown and a tiger half done

2010-10-21T22:25:00.002+05:30

lines, flashes of light -
ning in colours chosen,
smoothened curves in blue
and the fills in between
radially inside out, light
green to red to blue to yell
ow - with red fenced strokes
thickness ten, yellow inside
a set of seven suns. a face in blue
with ochre lips, blue curls, hair
a border in dark blue. a face in
lines brown and strokes of blue
wash behind. then there is the
tiger on a mat with triangular
patterns. the tiger, brightness change.
whiskers in gray. teeth extruded
solid coloured faces, 5 measures
deep, wide and long. random py
ramids. lit from below and the be
ginning of boredom brings to it
the end. beginning of a new game
with old tricks learnt somewhere
far away to while away some time.

mug shot

2010-10-21T01:46:00.001+05:30

a black and white mug shot was found
drying on the line, inside the dark room
where the photographs were left to dry

the photographer, found dead outside
the dark room, inside the studio, besides
the camera, a bullet hole on his forehead

the frame that held the killer in the mug
shot did not disclose the hand that held
the gun, the face only looked innocent

the gray eyes, the cold stare, the folds
on the lines of his denim shirt did not
give away any intentions of a murder

so there was a crime, one in the studio
and many in the papers the next day -
many stories of speculation & suspense

fur

2010-10-20T20:00:00.001+05:30

you are made to sit on a revolving chair.
the radio plays some music.
the air around smells of talcum powder.
you sit comfortable and remove your spectacles.
you get ready.
the man gets closer, asks you what.
'army', 'military' you say and he smiles at you.
you return the smile.
he plugs in the handheld machine and gets closer.
then for the next five minutes you hear the hum of the machine.
the machine moves around your head, vibrations on your scalp, your skull.
after five minutes he stops the machine.
he picks up a comb and a pair of scissors.
he sculpts the lines that demarcate the long from the short.
the difference slowly vanishes, then there is the pleasant satisfactory gradient.
then he snips around click and click, music to your ears, the metallic clicks of the scissors.
then he pulls out a knife looking razor, then half a razor blade, new.
scritch and scritch and the hazy lines sharpen, forming distinct boundaries.
then in the end , in the mirror there is you and the man next to you, both smiling.
'this wasn't me when i came here' you think to yourself.
the man next to you then pulls out a cotton puff and sprinkles talcum powder on it.
talcum powder on your neck.
then there is an exchange of money.
'well done' you think to yourself as you walk out the glass door.
someone else takes your seat.
the man gets closer to the revolving chair, asks him what.

Smirk

2010-10-20T19:48:00.002+05:30

On this race with time,
I am - on this
Winter morning and I do know
I lag behind.

I chase time, frothing
At the edges of my lips, tirelessly
I run endlessly.
Behind time.

One day soon –
Someday now, I know
I’d have run past time, I’ll
Stop,

Turn around -
Look at time in the eye
And throw at it
A smirk.

long

2010-10-19T20:50:00.000+05:30

with the surrounding
shortness of time
one or two or another
failed rhyme
with every minute of
assumed time in my hands
i only know i got no time
for long term plans

(Translation Project): Silence

2010-10-19T19:09:00.003+05:30

(From Thamizh - 'Mounam')

trees shed leaves and leaves lose colour
and sunshine glorifies itself with new
discovered shades of purple and gold
rivers flow through any or every place that
offers some space to breathe - the wild
stream of recollected and anticipated thought
flows through and across new skies blue
words and worlds unseen and unheard of
and the infinite depths that we longed
for, in eyes and our souls predicting time
are here with us, born from behind silent
trees that shed leaves, the leaves that lose
colour - as we take turns with our silence

(a deep gray sky, almost black)

2010-10-16T00:21:00.001+05:30

silence breaks through the walls
of yet another cold night -
(a deep gray sky, almost black)
'what worth was it?' - the
question uttered, echoing
in unison - a million silent voices
inside a million turbulent minds - cutting
through the surrounding stillness
of the night with hopes, almost
greedy - that the question is only
one's own and none else's.

the night stills itself further
strengthening every secret belief -
'it's only me that feels this way'
while the song of every soul
is just the same, only in a
different tongue. some do it
with a hiss and some with a
sigh. silence freezes and hardens
itself around every thought and
every question.
(the deep gray sky, almost black)

balloons oh balloons

2010-10-15T20:57:00.002+05:30

balloons.
balloons in sizes many.
balloons small, balloons large.
balloons in red, blue, green, yellow and white.
balloons to play.
and more balloons to play.
floating around, tied to a string, the other end the hand that holds.
and hands to hold and play with.
helium balloons, balloons with breaths.
flying high and high or just floating from above.
balloons fear not a fall.
balloons always float and land safe.
i play balloons.
balloons play me.
balloons play my mind.
i see balloons and balloons can see too.
balloons oh balloons.
helium balloons are hard to reach, but not impossible.
helium breaths are likeable.
i play helium balloons when on a hill top or the top of the world.
balloons with breaths are more likeable.
balloons with breaths or sighs float and land but not fall.
balloons with breath appeal when i sit in a dark pit, below, deep below.

balloons, I always play balloons.

balloons are balloons.
balloons are balloons and more.
i play balloons, the balloons play me.
and to play balloons is to be.
balloons oh balloons.

1-2-3-4

2010-10-14T22:35:00.000+05:30

lead

2010-10-13T00:04:00.002+05:30

in case of fire...

2010-10-12T00:56:00.000+05:30

ON

2010-10-12T00:51:00.000+05:30

Cloud

2010-10-09T11:14:00.002+05:30

Gray evening cloud
Of the evening last
Rain late in the night

convert

2010-10-08T19:55:00.002+05:30

while the idea would be to - convert
going back in time

a song already sung, into huffs and puffs of vain breath
going back in time

a poem already written down, into a droplet of ink
going back in time

a mistake already mistaken, into an innocent blink
going back in time

a new life already, into that dissatisfied moment of death
going back in time

an idea into something else - converts
going back in time

sun-mine-shine

2010-10-04T08:25:00.000+05:30

i own

half of the sunshine that
flows through my window on
to my tiled floor and i

with no names written upon,
the rays of morning sunshine
warm, they should only be mine

i don't ask much - i don't ask
for all of everything - only half
of the sunshine

that flows through my window,
that is rightfully mine

(Translation Project): Infinitely...

2010-10-03T09:55:00.002+05:30

(From Thamizh - 'Enniladangaadhavaiyaai...')

infinitely we intend to
live, talk and make love
to & with infinite minds

together

infinitely we plant
kisses on the eyelashes
with infinite lips

together

infinitely drinking wine
we breathe poetry and do
recite songs and whine

together

infinitely there could
have been more and more
of all this & life

together

beyond infinity
had we only known
infinity and acceptance

together

(the choice) step

2010-09-24T19:42:00.000+05:30

DC

2010-09-23T21:26:00.001+05:30

D (II)

2010-09-23T21:03:00.002+05:30

a zen like detachment
is only a third person view
of things - he, she, it and them

let's just pretend -
it's their business anyway

N

2010-09-23T19:58:00.000+05:30

shuffle

2010-09-22T19:53:00.002+05:30

moment images

replace each other

scenes fade not

but abruptly disappear

owl

2010-09-21T21:01:00.000+05:30

why howl it -
when you can just owl it!

rise

2010-09-20T22:07:00.002+05:30

(G)
The ground floor.
He stood near the elevator.
Delevation, swallowed 49 seconds.
The door opened.
To get to the top most floor, no clue why, but just should.
The watchman he animatedly talked.
With a friend his, in a blue woolen jacket.
Ting.
The elevator.

(1)
Up and above.
Floor one, in digital red.
Closed elevator door.
Voice of a talking parrot.
“Tuesday today!”

(2)
Up and above.
Floor two, digital red again.
Elevator door would not open for good.
A scream.
Glass shattering.
A silent shiver.

(3)
Up and above.
Floor three, three in red, digitally.
_ , |, _, | and _
In some order.
Door closed still.
The typewriter played songs of being alone.
No songs of loneliness, for the window was.

(T)
Up and above.
The terrace.
Door opened.
Sunshine, breeze, ruffled hair.
Freedom.
An unknown leap.

(T)
Steely elevator doors again.
Delevate, one should.
Buddha did.
Ting.
Open, close.
Down and below.

(3)
Music played, a muted type writer.
Nobody slept.
So did the delevator.
Closed for good.
Down and below.

(2)
Dead silence.
A digital two.
Only the breaths, that made any noise.
At all.
No open.
Down and below.

(1)
“Tuesday yesterday”
A doubtful parrot.
Or a parrot to be doubted.
“Paa paa green parrot, have you a song?”
“Tuesday yesterday”.
Closed.
Down and below.

(G)
Ting.
A bump and a stop.
Ready for elevation, delevation done.
Buddha did.
Open.
Watchman alone.
“Wednesday already?”
A blue woolen jacket guffaw.
A silent walk away.

Something was lost.

prime

2010-09-20T21:43:00.001+05:30

oh it must be the fan in the other room
that creaks uncontrollably, running slow.
turn up the knob, pull the blanket to your chin
feel, feel another approaching summer
against the winter that does surround.

life springs up, following the fall
of the leaves - and everything that left,
just right, in all their glorious might
tonight, dried leaves just crackle
beneath the soles of your feet, as you walk
on diamonds, pushing them invisible, deep
beneath the dark snow of the night

and then sit silent and try to
rhyme - time!