Consonance

Because people give up by now,
wiping off the mopped floor, squeaky clean,
marble white,
I reflect.
Painted the windows white, walls red,
no bloody stains here.

Furniture is white,
dining table round and of pine,
this is where I dine,

they say 1 day at a time.

Because people give up by now,
cleaning brownish-blackish gunk on the stove,
over flown, forgotten, I scrub, clean it bright,
I cook,
I surprise.

Because people give up by now,
killing, poisoning, stumping on other roaches.
In corners quietly they repair who pretended to die,
I put my makeup,
got few more lives to live.

A rusty old watch I clean, memories creep,
speak, have you forgotten me, I am low.
This time I don’t pack it back.
I let it hang, in my sight, with a lighter mind,

they say 1 step at a time.

Because people give up by now,
pretending to be cursed,
pretend what you may.
In plain sight, I have let it go.
They are they and I am me.

1 day at a time,
1 step at a time,
1 life at a time.
Because, most people give up by now.

Skip a heartbeat

My heart skips a beat..

Thomp. and everything goes down again

as in the second’s distress to move

forward on the clock it pushes itself back

and I rush to pump it again with all I got

it becomes a matter of minutes to level

the things put to rest

from where hours turned to dust

of days spent in hunger

for the skipped heartbeats

where heartbeats skipped people

by skipping a few hearts.

 

 

 

Meme evenings

neural efficacy it dictates

carving replicating transcending 

subatomic space of the peripherals where

it was killed, alive again 

dusted by hands of now a celibate brain

niching into the broken links

of surviving neurons 

to expose hide reside in a scarred alley

trying to invade again 

breaking open the bubbled spaces

you. yet again a meme of everything prefect 

I. an uninspired host

Changing

I am painting you a picture 

on the canvas of your eyes 

what you see is relative

and depends on your insight

like when night tells dawn

I am too a morning to few life forms

they who can see will change their colours 

those who saw black and white

still how do you rush when you are viscous

and how do you flow when you are rigid

but you will and think about the 

underperformance of everything else 

inside all of us we ourselves dwell. 

this way The mundane project of me

keeps getting more and more pointless

in my own stoic face I am baseless

the vision that I will anyways create

amass project reiterate 

is just a changing proposal of my past

when digged to the core of anything

everything lasts. 
Thought: most changes are selfpreservatory  in nature without our realizing it and even if we do realize that we need the change, we also crave for an acceptance of our negatives or worse we stop caring. How legit is the change then? sometimes us ourselves being unaware of the real depth of it. 

The revered God of odds

This is a call to create me because I don’t exist

and seeing my life I think I may be the one

who walks past the dreams and desires 

skillfully in a bliss remembering the odds on how these existed without the pain

but then I am proved right soon 

leading me to think I created them

but if history of people would talk they would have the same walk

still I am blamed not to live through it with patience

and patience they say some don’t realise they already have it as a character 

while those who don’t are often seen demanding it

I am familiar with this cycle

but I am in the odd

with about everything 

and the slipping society

who will soon think of me 

as a non conformist 

and while they don’t know what they are conforming to

I have to mix in a haste

of being left behind I have to join soon

I see among me other few who are confused the same

and they talk themselves into it each day

this predicament becomes society

and I a social person

and those who live on to carry my burden

and don’t conform

they become my God

of all my odds.

Until the batteries die

Fake respect of fear 

evades into the 

time which runs on clock 

until

battery dies

of the charge person 

has in life 

after that 

character of memory

remains

and love 

no matter how strong 

loses its will 

in losses

and in fear of loosing

a lost love

and everything familiar

life continues

in that time

that runs on that clock

until the battery dies. 

Moon and its sunlight

In depths of ocean everything reflects

on the sun recieved

while it was summer 

and the haste of sunlight 

when didn’t  fill the floor 

of winter’s ocean 

the moon still stayed in dark 

not knowing that the reflection is giving it away

through what the vacuum brought

of the space 

while water didn’t grasp the velocity

of vacuum to fill spaces

the fish stayed flowing at the bottom

waiting for winter to end

on the other hand 

moon in black vacuum 

couldn’t grasp the kind of warmth it sends.

Multitude

In the multitude truths

mine was a speck of my story

intertwined with your perspective of it

hindering me to visualise how it actually happened

I end up not being so sure about my own past

while the disaster in my head dances on my failure to claim 

my own pain because I always compare it to yours

while infliction of it – you think is my choice 

but you do it yourself without knowing

that is why good hearts are streaked with confusion

and those with noise are always sure.

Primal

what if love was primal 

not this flowery state of mind 

I heard the cats and dogs whisper

they too felt the need to define

but they were soon disinterested in the thought

like their primal fits 

it was short

but a man kept bugging the concept

created content 

published the stress

the first love musters me

makes me mushy weak in my knees

I cripple the senses

fuse the bulbs and 

muse the nulls

in expectations of that first look

into the souls

I keep baring mine

gathering my own flames I wander

island to island

and everything opens up for me to define

the beauty rises 

with the sunsets

where a smile to myself

alone staring at the beds

of anywhere I would go

I can imagine of so many women I know

but I dont

just smiling at myself for that special one 

faith in heart 

I await the one

she enters into my dreams 

through the yellow cab 

wandering alone 

I pause to gasp

how do they behold these moments of truth?

how do they stare pretending not to look?

I am unaware of shame 

and in being lame

I just walk behind her

not looking like a trailing dog

shying seeing changing lanes

I follow her like insane

she pauses

smiles

tweaks her head 

30 degree to right

what else is love at first sight?

if the godesses in temples could walk

would they stay

such beauty should belong to one

I would pray

she would not belong

longing for her worshippers

she would be gone

another morning 

I would say other names

some were dedicated to ease my pain

some were looking to make their gains

some were plain ugly 

some were profoundly insane

some were like me 

soul searching their own nemesis name

but the search made me figure this out 

that we all are primal 

in one or other way 

some in our searches

and some in our need to stay.