Time unravels me

I often mispoke the stench of coat
words hidden in heat of moments
as hidden notes
unable to call on people who are not visible
shadows of ourselves eat us first
and then the misery of becoming it
nature of universe
has no time for ignorance of a fish
cannot teach anyone
already in a bliss
or the one drowned in the ocean
mumbling speech of everything
echo of every life lived
can only be emptied to fill again
time to measure me
takes stock of how well i was all of me
and how i fail to be
all the lives in me.

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Cat and a story

yet again-
i never understood how a cat scratches its way up the tree
whats in those nails that i lack
an expectation
and the reason i had carried it
as myself
or to live wrong in a story
every bark i had fallen from
was seemingly a grounded tree
heights viewing me
steeping me back from as far as i climb
time spending itself
natures pulling its way
to slide me down
this i can do
fall off deep
and not mourn the cat
from the young to old
how obvious can the message be
parked and moving
in a journey to nowhere.

The revered God of odds

I don’t know why I keep coming back and reading this one, maybe because it makes me feel both oblivious and related to the pains of past. 🙂

inapoem

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

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Unrequited Love

So many of us make it a task to not fail, but at all wrong places and for all wrong reasons, reasons that we may not even recognise, reasons that are so deeply rooted that we have no idea what we are doing thinking it is love or the person we want is the only one for us. STOP. PAUSE. Love again if you want but STOP with that person. It is almost an obsession which doesn’t bring any output. This poem captures the essence of that feeling when your love is not being recognised or respected.

I cannot turn me
anymore,
without turning to you.
you know
how far you go,
In a distance that time breaks
turning my darkness
to grey,
you are my light.

But I can only burn me,
all the while
pretending,
that it is alright.

A day is but a day,
that must become night,
whether it wills it,
Or not
and the sun must burn
the lotuses must wake,
And among it all,
unassumingly,
The earth,
each moment will have to take a call
and love unrequited,
doesn’t have to endure it all..

Relationships

IMG_6653

It is a dirty case of cleaned glasses
aged with the eyes which saw through
to see dust sitting on the window
where crows were cawing until the flesh loosens
and legs spread
we come down to heights
philosophy lost to the likes
surrendering to monotony of mutual rights.

the air comes between us and space
when we recreate ourselves
and our rusty past
it shakes the distance
we covered to last
we create from sun and feed it to moon
our dreams to our youth
once more lot of ground to cover
lot to ignore
glassened hardened fastened
our eyes to our shattered core.

Mirror Meditates

Through the broken glass of a shaken house
paradigms shift to let in the light
when and how much
too hard to decide

reflecting in the angle it was set in
traversing the light
shining on things as they were thrown
Mirror Meditates
to change angles.

shadowed on
horizons of reflection
it’s a straight image
hiding the streets
vision fails to intrude.

I sit and call for purpose in pain
confidence in vain
and wisdom in shame
light strives to direct reflection
I get back
whatever I ask for
it doesn’t go sideways
there are few things I would rather not say
it’s my own mirror
it ignores my ways.

changes in surface
go on to imbibe
Convex
Concave
what kind of darkness it is
I have to decide
under spell of my own ways
expand out
look inside
I change my mirror
Cant change my sight.

Common Single Disease

I kill the cradle
and ancestors of the wild being in me
call me to end an era
of everything
with wilderness humanity will go
without desire the senses
with numbers the age
without sound your name
with death the pain
the dents of history will call for
another life to suffer
I will again rush to offer
another death in another life
another wisdom in another knife
another love in another life
wheel reinvents itself
and history is new
past kills itself
in between the time gasps
present perfect is continuous till
infinity dies again to be renewed.
———————————
You are my infinity
will you die early or slow?
rotting or in a blow?
will you kill me before slowing down?
or slow down to kill?
———————————
And then when your cradle kills me
my ancestors will call
the numerous me
and the numerous them
we will kill the misery of repeating history
mellow ourselves down
leaves will hustle
we will ignore the infinity in us
and will die in peace
cured in death of
a common single disease.

Body.

I always feel
I always go numb
on how these men
see my parts apart

the bulging breasts
the luscious thighs
the arse high

and then I bathe
unimportantly
alone
my body is not conscious
no eyes that roam

top to bottom
bottom to top
bosom to hips
vagina to lips
men know what they want
the body feels their hunger on

parts of it don’t feel home
eyes roam
dissect me part by part
I breathe in
breathe out
breathe in
breathe out
life bursts
and all goes down

bubbles of my body
and graves of men
death asks me to tell them apart
who to choose
who to spare
as if skeletons care.

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.

When It’s ❤️

I apologise for being different,
or all the more same,
he calls me something,
I have to respond,
when in love, that’s my name,

sirens chant the same,
Mersmerized,
play the game,
of being known,
honey, dear, a dame,

sweet pains,
a dove kills a dove, such games,
red always feels alive,
I think cocks fight the real fight,
I relate to their plight,

when sky is clouded,
mind lovely and talks with haste,
dying to be free,
again freedom lovingly put at stake,
those who have been tied know it well,
what it takes,
in matters of heart,
to save the dove,
and also to kill
to not turn into a dove at will,

still when he calls,
I turn to play the game,
become his honey, his dear, his dame,
he says I love you,
I say, Yes here is the cane!
If it’s love the history is same.