FLOWERS & RINGS & LOVE

I know people
and they tell
they know me
this time it will be different
my grave will not be lonely
they will bring me
flowers and love
decide if I am rotten enough
kiss me or bid me luck.

I will know soon if
a new message I will have to inscribe
one more grave then
to kill and hide
there is blood on my lips
and dirt on the hands
again the silent trance
and hunger pangs
punch me
to vomit it all out
I have again eaten
my insides out.

Each time I dig a new grave
and fill new crowd
bodies on bodies
crying out loud
warned to lie still
sometimes they wriggle
trying to climb uphill
they hold my spine tight
and try to break me
to be their light
and I gasp for air
to loose this sight
their versions I keep
but I let them slide
every new man
pulls me down
questions ways of my heart
on me he frowns.

And You
I have seen you before
when gardens were lush green
you were like a purpose
that has dreams
while I try to see you differently
you come using the same means
you don’t know how you bring
the same scenes
of us
drinking the blood
being both hungry
and half filled
the continuously rekindling love
in unkindled will
I cannot help but still hear
in this closeness
the echo of dead screams
going in same vicious circles
of flowers and rings.

Edge

What would you sit there and wonder

let me tell you

love fear hate derision pretense 

all were true

it was best to not wonder more

so we did not

but if you sit and I cross your mind

know you cross me too

now when we swim across 

to more oceans 

and different lands

if you find me in another 

find me then for her 

and you will find me for me

I will till then try to loose you

and un-clinch my fingers

grappling your version with me

hoping that you find 

the same unsettling love

which settled in me

and then maybe you will see everything left behind 

was same and more

but now lost 

on the edge of our past. 

Whole Death

a walking graveyard
of still houses 
to be scavenged little more 
is left open

what can pesky beaks do
                          carry on the task 
death and rest follow 
graves digging body 
and body itself 
to end it all
the savage picks up the taste
half rotten stuck in the beaks
body evolves 
birth to the burp
making it alright

whole death is whole 
unlike half hearted meal
not eaten
not forsaken.

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

Fickle life of grandma & noor

I would have written better at the time

when you used to churn ghee out of the malai collected by me

but that thought was lost before I could write.

It was constant process but

then, mother changed the method and she instead made curd out of it

she would churn the curd for butter and chaas

with that your hands too changed from firm to soft

in the process whole house evolved

malai was now a distant thought.

 

But reference of it almost never died

turned into a skilled fight

although with malai a lot of stereotypes dissolved

but somehow ones with curd evolved

for house was her commodity now

where her life would revolve.

 

Noor, you should know how to claim what’s yours

but why, if it’s truly mine

it’s not about the curd or malai, she would say

it’s more

it’s always more

good books have rubbed your innate core

 

why didn’t you tell her – said Noor

sometimes Noor you will have to ignore

ghee can be made out of butter too all the more

because to know is not good for her

but for you it will help you take your path

everything fickle is not always lost

what’s important is to let go

as life’s only hope is change

and our will to live up to its game.

 

 

 

 

Terms-

Malai – Fat layer on milk after its boiled

Ghee – clarified butter

Chaas – buttermilk

 

 

Old and Content

Don’t ask me for courage

I dropped it in the nutshell of peace

The wolves hunted my bravery

My women was put to leash

The girls who giggled at wake of puberty

Silenced themselves in the hook ups of past

The men who surfaced

Went mad trying to make them last

Hunted were hunters and they did the same

Each relentlessly becoming insane

When there is no path that you can lay

All paths eventually lead astray

Always a flag on horizon 

For which they would ride

People told me to go there to hide

I reached there 

And came back to save my sight 

Blisters of my journey still wake me up in the nights

I smile when Old and Content

Means to have paid all the price.

not Me in You

I am not you

but this other person

That I was

That is me

How can then I fill your destiny?

As different and as close

or aloof and connected

I will not be absolute

For absolute are my changes

As you are not bound to be

this person, over years,  you or me.

As mustered the past is

With the future to begin

You count I count 

We recount

All things in a blink

It was not once 

but over time

that you are yours 

and I am mine

To reverse this is insane task

Shredding each other to pieces

Inhuman to ask

Still we do 

In and out 

With love With marriage With sacrifice

Sometimes it help

Other times it kills

Layer by layer 

Deep sadness sets

The soul shrinks 

The heart adjusts

The mind reiterates

Life says 

Dont call me 

Its not death yet.

Sun and Souls

The morning sun rides daily

And asks me shall we start

I pretend to not notice

There is too much darkness in my heart

It shines and tries to make a compromise

I use an umbrella not for shade

But keep my darkness tight

I’d say my soul is too broken for light to be a part of me

It says

My dear its a ever living soul how broken it can really be

He snatches and says 

Dont defend so hard

I give in daily

And daily I start

For a moment I think the last leaf has been turned

My soul clinched to let it be 

In light it burnt to ashes

To set me free

But wonder happens where we start

The body the soul the heart are all but our parts

With the will of the sun the days begin

We live we wither

And soon there are other birds to sing

The souls are but cycles like sun

One comes one goes

And each of them goes through emotions

 But dies with none.

The (real)(ideal)ist guide to life

Is it in deciphering

Or it is in living

Wherever the answers lie

Surrounding the life around or in the thoughts

Both agree and both deny

How do an idealist and a realist say “hi”?

One sees everything worth living for

And another looks for all things seldom found

One believes in how the world looks

And another in the world not found

The idealist says I will keep you surprised

The realist says you may have to pay the price

The price to expect better or to expect at all

The idealist says its better than to be behind contemplated walls

While one looks at historical walls

Another at how they would fall

Where does the world keep what these two find

One is real and another is to define

Can it be a same world they create?

Can both make each other stay?

Would a realist ever take a leap of faith?

And will a idealist get tired of hope?

As how the age old struggles of ideologies go 

Nobody wins and noone lets go!

Trying the trials

I keep trying 

And yet I fail

In trying my trials remain

Pushing and gushing 

Life in me

I strike with wonder

The moulds of life

They don’t change

They change me back

I usher to strike them hard

They are rigid

I look retard

I punish the things around me to mold

Everything besides me, they hold

I keep doing myself the harm

The world stays, alas I loose the charm

In my trying the trials remained

I was rigid, I was the one who had caused the pain.