ascending

there's probably nothing I wouldn't do
if I was wearing an oversize shirt

3am, boots and the bottom
of a vodka bottle
see me dance on beds
write poetry and declare my love
for you and the world
off rooftops
dawn isn't far -
they always say
but do they know that
in that moment
3.17 or 3.71am
I have never felt
alive-r
happier
and shinier
in my spot in the sun's moonlight

the cicadas and my parlance
with the stars
is a story woven
in the sleepy undertones of my eyes

drake, iron and wine

send yourself out in the rain
mark crooked windows
them blue window panes
send out ships from your chest
send them out in the rain

the rain which was deep
deeper than the indigo
yesterday
is escaping from the vastness
of the universe
tipping stars over
and finding its way
into your cup of tea today
spread open your finger tips
and invite it in

the late evenings
were full of ghost cars
finding their homes
only to send themselves
out in the rain again
as the earth spun
spun itself silly
the cub's nose remained
as the 'x' in algebra
there
there
ever there

life size

words

that I only hear

but I'm sure

they talk of love

a love

separated by distance

and circumstances

a love

separated by geography

and constraints

a love

separated by human nature

and a habit

to continue habits

suffocation

sudden and tearing

glass doors open

to the sky

where two

young

and battered

each more than

the other

come together

even if only in spirit

what.

is.

not.

if at all.

questions

dozens of them

and an ever-growing pile

of work

and worries

in the usual humdrum

lost

with the usual humdrum.

When you can't translate everything into poetry

A leafy arch overlooks

A tea stall tucked

Under the clouds

Stone tables

And stone benches

A pet dog sniffing

With curiosity

And an obvious grin.

Just then the clouds come in

Oblivious to surroundings.

Dragon flies against

The grey of the sky

And right there

With the sun in your eyes..

It's you.

as most cities are

Lightning demarcates

boundaries of clouds

blanketing this inky night.

It's a lonely city

as most cities are

an occasional passer-by

and a painful pull.

Transatlantic.

Who knows how much havoc

intermittent flashes of

lightning cause.

They sure light up the world

for a tiny second

here

and there.

But they're unaccompanied

by thunder.
Or rain.

Much like this city -

lone, alone.

They say everybody

grows up.

And grows hard and unforgiving.

Life then, I believe

was never a child.

And living - never child's play.

Where do you run?

As the world watched you.

Where do you hide?

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Exhausted.

Don't listen to Santa too much!

So we sit talking of the Lotus Sutra.

Ain't a beginning.

Or an end to it.

The preface to nothing. The beginning of a big hollowness.

I want to put my finger on it nevertheless.

We take the beating to live through everyday.

And each day - we wait for the big thing to happen.

To arrive.

We wait our entire lives for nothing to happen.

When does it arrive?

When does it really happen? It's all a preparation for..?

But then again. It'd be a big cliche to say that the present is all we have to live for.

We have much more. We have nothing.

On the same continuum of thinking in terms of illusions.

I stopped making sense.

Long ago.

Flipside

There's a reason why

all the love songs

on my playlist

are lying ignored and dusty.

They feel

I don't love them.

Anymore.

god knows I want to break free

It just so happens

love of my life,

the roads I travel

and imagery

and phrases

I come across

greens and wild blues

inherently

become a part of me.

Increasing my love

for me.

Love of my life.

but life still goes on

Hallelujah to randomness

Sometimes I feel like putting a tune here.

In this case it would be Yiruma.

So much simplicity. Ant and elephant jokes. Colours. Telling someone your love story. Watching repeat episodes of Splitsvilla. Sleeping on a bandh. Killing the hours, till you get of the house to grab some pizza and end up so disoriented, without any sense of time.

New chick in college, with a huge ass and huger boobs.

And the whole of the evening spent talking to a friend about the best ways to hit on her. Or just plain ogle.

So yeah.

Obsessing.

Laughing.

Bitching.

Fearing just a little bit.

Sometimes I feel like putting a tune here.