Don’t Play!
Fear is an old tape-recorder.
Fast-forward is rewind.
It retraces the steps,
Pretty accurately,
To the point you unwind.
When you were
The most vulnerable little tulip.
Plays over and over
Until the piece gets you sick.
You try the Pause.
The knob is jammed.
You have the old-fashioned Unplug.
Nightmares rest now, in
Fear’s caring bosom,
Waiting to be woken up.
~~~
Extremism
This tonic won’t go in vain.
Hurt yourself, till
There’s no pain.
Hurt yourself, till
There’s no pain.
Brooding sadness? Added guilt and shame?
Hurt yourself, till
There’s no pain.
Feeling ‘unconditional’ what-nots?
Bleeding happy again?
Hurt yourself.
You deserve the same.
~~~
Of Hard, Chilled & Toxic Fluids
(1)
There’s this one
Where hypes did match the prize.
Most of it, anyway.
Hit the smooth rock-bottom
Until I emerged enlightened.
Nothing whacky or smart about
The essence.
High – as solid as truth,
Or the next best thing…
Trust, maybe.
There’s this one
Where all bar stories begin.
Sparkling, shining
Like stars,
Even when clouds are close by.
Nights come in waves.
One after the other. You the surfer.
A feel-good high.
Good night, and
A morning to look forward to.
(3)
And there’s the one
Which came with a warning.
Market offers a lot of fakes.
I believe, I got the real thing.
The one which goes well
With a good book.
Makes you dream…
Increasing, little by little.
Caution: you are hallucinating.
An early morning hangover,
For many nights to come.
~~~
Karma
I decide what I deserve.
I deserve what I decide.
Build our own world,
Could we be told otherwise?
~~~
A Murderer’s Epiphany
Once you have killed a man,
There’s no turning back.
Sharp blades have penetrated
The veil of moral flesh.
And now, it’s naked.
You’re naked, dripping in blood.
An orgasmic peace bursts beneath,
Releasing every inch of you
Across pleasured boundaries
Keeping you safe.
Tender flames of revolution
Breathe the cold air of rest.
Righteousness unblinded.
Illusive happiness is dead.
Once you have killed a man,
One thing becomes clear:
Killing only makes one hold life dear.
~~~
The State of Fear
I don’t know who the enemy is.
I can hear it growl;
Roar at a distance –
It is approaching near.
But I can’t see it.
I rustle every leaf,
Empty my cannisters at solid thin air.
“Where are you!”
Oozing sweat calls in despair.
I’m alone with this beast, defenseless.
I wait and I wait, in the State of fear.
… So it is too.
Insane thought: Is it afraid of me too?
Or just waiting for me to make my move?
Will it let me go if I do?
I don’t know.
I don’t stop.
Figured I had better chance running.
But the ground beneath me is shrinking
Of places to go.
I feel it
Gaining up on me.
It’s maddening!
I may do exactly as I feared.
Tired of running, out of desperation
I may turn around and face my doom:
I might dare.
~~~
Dreamers
The hand is not there.
Fingers crushed,
A gruesome red pulp,
Nails pinched off, separated;
Lying on the floor with the cut-off arm
Which, even an hour before
Was a savior.
Now a searing stub of pain…
Very much alive, attached.
Pulling out hairs from the skull.
Howling in madness.Put some water on the face.
Lift your head to look in the mirror.
Through watery eyes,
There is a face staring…
Puffy pink, eyes gouged off.
Rub them well, feel the white rounds at their place.
Open them carefully…
Huff! The eyes are there.
What a daydream!
The doorbell is ringing.
Hasten, axe on the ready.
Careful! Not a bright day so far.
Charge at the killer with the devilish snigger.
Could’ve sworn the man had a knife on him.
Now the paperboy is dying.
At a distance, siren’s blaring.
Coming out of the dark shadows, finally.
Isn’t it time for some good dreams?
I wanna be a dreamer no more.
~~~
Small Talk
I’m done with subjective conversations.
In brief moments of truth, such thoughts
Take me into realms
Bordering on abstraction.
It’s very hard to come back from there.
After you leave, which you do –
Which you must at the end,
I’m left on my own.
Fight through this cold, damp, dark vortex: alone.
My paranoia finds no end,
Scratching the walls
With sharp logic and reason.
Maybe I’m looking for some reassurance.
But honestly, you are not the one whom I can expect it from…
Or so I think.
Meanwhile,
In the crevices between needs and expectations,
I will be unmade, everyday…
Up till insanity, watching the rain with blank gazes,
Staring into an abyss of nothingness.
… Until I’m no longer of interest to you.
Until you leave,
I’ve no interest in watching it happen.
I don’t need any of this.
Neither do you, I believe.
Till you are here, I’ll be rather mindful
About the objectivity of our conversations.
~~~
Being Myself
Some days I feel
This is not me.
It’s someone made of colours and wigs
Enacting my role rather imperfectly.
I screw my eyes,
Look at this character,
And feel:
“I could’ve done it differently.”
“Where is the script writer?
What did I do to deserve this!””If it was me,
I’d have cancelled this show immediately.”
“I would work hard on it,
Spend sweat and blood
Until it was just me, me, and ME.”
On other days,
I’d rather go to the backstage,
Pat the chap with the wigs and colours
Silently.
~~~
Misadventures
Extended my arm,
Exerted enough force that would move every inch of my soul.
Clutched the last straw as if holding on to dear life.
Crawled my shaking fingers past memories, feelings, people.
The earpiece was still out of sight.
Out of Fear
And while she was leaving, she said something like, “don’t do anything stupid”. I was too drunk to ask, what she meant by it.
I didn’t kill myself. Did everything that was expected. Now, after a year, I’m sitting in a damp prison cell waiting to be executed. Along with a few others like me.
I joined the scurrying scapegoats, following the herd. Thinking they would protect me, when the time came. Turns out, they were all thinking the same.
We turned and twisted, shuffled back, pushing others to face the storm. Until the ledge came, and the world was gone. We were the first to run, and the first to hit the wall.
We were standing side by side, facing the imminent fall. And we turned – frightened, desperate – like a thousand hornets swarming to save their burning home. Our last stand. Our act of desperation looked to some like a rebellion. The insects were squashed.
Stupids! Happy to give their lives for the cause. The smart girl knew. Haven’t seen her since; must have left these shores.
~~~
I Told You So
While the world is in silhouettes,
Shadows sparkle flames in alleys by your doorstep,
I need a moment before the end.
A moment I saved
For so precious an occasion as this.
Monumentous, beaten only by
The incapacity of doing anything else.
To tell you how the patient hours built up to this.
To tell you how you made all this possible.
To tell you, “I told you so.”
I told you so.
~~~
Being a Fiction Lover
I have survived apocalypse,
Zombies and aliens.
But oh my, who are these enemies?
In killing nature –
Twisters, volcanoes at the very least.I have lived many lives.
Started over and over again.
But oh my, what times are these?
I must have skipped
Those boring 3 minutes before the action…
The backstory;
The reason we reach the end.
I take off my visor.
We aren’t there yet,
Where the ravaged civilization
Unite to take the last stand.
It’s actually the beginning…
The beginning of the end, and
We are too busy playing villain!
I’m my little man,
Protecting my “strong”hold from mommy.
Adrift in my own squabble.
I won’t be the one to stop planets
From colliding.
I won’t be the one to journey across stars,
Saving my world.
I’m just the old ruin
At the beginning of the game,
Leaving a hint for future generations,
Only happy to pass the mantle.
~~~
Insecure
You know some stuff.
You all know some stuff.
Bring food and cloth on the table,
O masters of your own universe!
I, on the other hand, can add nothing
To an already full plate.
Let me get lost.
Settle in the dark corner,
Until I figure my own way out.
Let us meet, when
You are no good to me anymore.
Conscience
Conscience is the man
Walking on the other side;
Slowly, keeping pace;
Stalking like a shadow left behind.
Yet, his unnerving stare makes you weary.
You walk faster. His pace quickens;
Like a mirror, reflecting past
The vast wide stream of life.
He stops. Suddenly.
As if only to draw your attention.
With a dreadful glance, you see him
Charging into the ocean, both hands waving.
Fairy lights run him over instantly.
You pull up the mangled self;
Injured, bruised to the point of no return.
Drag him to the sidewalk. Cursing.
Lay him by the tree. Cursing, yet again.
Looking for any unfortunate soul to lay this on.
You shouldn’t be here!
Quickly feel his pulse. None.
Listen close for vitals…
Nothing more can be done.
You push on.
A little relieved that the distraction is gone.
You have things to deal with – serious things,
That don’t manifest explanations.
~~~
Handicapped
And while the world is crumbling upside down,
I’m sitting on a wheelchair, waiting for the wheels to turn around. On its own.
Don’t help me, O people of the world!
I deserve what is coming to me.
I interrupted my sleep only to snore.
I took extreme liberty in choosing the shades
For my eyes, ears, for my nose.
“Wish we could afford a pair like yours”,
Said people in the store.
It’s a hot day outside.
And I’m a lazy guitarist.
I have forgotten the tunes. Now I play as an “artiste”. I have more;
Not more to give, but to have more.
I jingle along with the Piper’s lore.
My strings don’t rip. They are domesticated boars
Churning out masterpieces.
No one has slapped mud on my face
For a while.
I forgot what it was like:
Walking on naked guts and biles.
It was a fighting chance.
There was a winner, even when life was unfair.
Now we have given up all
For comfort and layers.
We are products in hands of “greater” men.
They silently watch, judge, and nudge.
We are wheelchair men, expected to budge.
And we do so. Without a grudge.
Waiting for the next guy to take us forward.
~~~
Grudge
I want a good gallery
To watch the world burn.
Layer after layer,
Down to the core.
Meat and dreams
Turning to ashes.
My loved ones
Scampering on walls,
Blood foaming in their parched cries.
In awe to this spectacular view.
And when all is done,
I will lift my cover,
Walk amongst sparkling flakes of past.
Feeling solitude for the first time
After ages of being hunted down.
Crackling warm fires, welcoming…
Wiping away the cold fear of shadows.
I want to sleep.
All curled up in the dust.
Safe on this Earth
Like a child
In the womb of a caring mother.
~~~
Letters from a Procrastinator
Dearest Deadline,
See you on a summer night,
When we will catch rainbows
and watch moonlit butterflies.
And the summer is a long wait.
But waiting is love’s true test,
As the spirits have said.
When you will gently rest your palms
On my palpitating chest,
The debts that I have not paid
Will automatically fill my head.
You won’t have to say a word,
Neither will I have to you.
When we are then together,
The fairy tales will adieu.
So, on a summer night it is,
As promises go!
Another summer is always waiting…
In between, the snow.
~~~
Un-friending Lessons
Become a Mojo Man.
Be closer to the stars.
Anyways, the legends have foretold
The top is the loneliest position afar.
Failing to achieve, you see
Will lead you to Plan B.
Let your friends wither away…
One by one.
Your tone, your tune, your life
Will keep you busy.
To only thrive in need.
On a slow night, much like today
You walk down a dark road,
A briefcase by your side,
And people will only recognize the box.
Not the beholder.
People demand reasons to forgive.
To forget, is much easier.
~~~
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