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Friday, October 17, 2014

Fire and Ice

There was a little earthquake here;
The tectonic plates shifted,
Poured magma from within,
Burnt everything around it
And rattled everything for a while.
This earth shook with passion
And yearned for the rain you brought.
For a while, things erupted up this well,
Till the infection was all expelled,
But now the plates have settled
And the lava is turning to gel,
Solidifying as you sleep under your blanket,
Oblivious of the match you struck,
That left a forest burning, and a river dry.
The plates have moved a bit,
But they've found their footing again;
The landscape has changed a bit,
The continents a bit more adrift
Of each other, as water fills the gaps.
The trees are growing again;
There are little butterflies too
Now and then, but unlike the ones we felt
When we saw each other the first time.
The eco system has adjusted and evolved,
The cracks you caused have filled
And the newspapers and the tabloids
Have stopped reporting about you.
I've sold the archived copies
That were stacked inside the cupboard,
I've made room for some new clothes
And I'll buy new shoes too,
And while life here continues as normal
I hope your snow is melting as well.

Little Ant

Little ant, do you know
About the universe and outer space?
The millions of stars, the expanding space?
Have you ever wondered how you fit
Into the larger scheme of things?
Do you realise that we are travelling
At a million miles per hour across space
And that you are just a tiny speck
Amidst the vast chaos out there
If you could, would you build
Cities like we do, and guns?
Would you bomb other ants
Who did not agree with you?
Would you spend your whole life
Collecting things you'll leave behind
If I decide to crush you right now?
Do you know that I watch
Everything you do?
What are we doing here, little ant,
Sharing the same cabin
In this revolving spaceship?
As you go on with your chores
So purposefully and diligently,
Have you ever wondered, little ant,
What all this leads to
If we mean anything at all
Beyond this dot on this universe
That we have cultivated so well?
Our friends, foes and family, and
The roads we know so well,
Rising every morning, blindfolded
Till we close our eyes in bed
How long is this lifetime, little ant?
Where does this really end?
Are we part of something eternal,
Or mere shadows on a wall
That will cease to exist
When the fire ceases to burn?
Why do we labour so hard
And why do we fall in love?
Do you ever think in your bed, little ant
About what this is all about?
About if there's sense in people's heads
When they go around killing each other
And hoarding what they call wealth
Binging on fast food, wasting away
While millions starve to death?
Where does this lead us, little ant;
This journey that we share
So lively yet absurd at so many levels
What is the right life, the path we must tread?
You seem so sure, oh little ant
What is it that you know?
As you trudge along your prescribed path
Will you please show me the road?

Sunday, October 12, 2014

The Spring

I always had a tap on it,
So I could fill my bottles and flasks,
And the spring was always in control,
Till it was clogged one day;
Someone must have put another tap
Somewhere I didn't know.
So I ran around thirsty and dry,
Quenching my thirst in brothels and bars,
Till you found the tap and turned it on.
Years of passion welled up from inside
And before either of us could react,
You were swept away, and I was lost;
The flood wrecked all that we had;
And when the storm subsided to a ripple,
The spring had turned to autumn, bare
But for a hollow murmur now and then -
Maybe that's just some bees inside.
And now I have casks and kegs, strung
Around my neck, weighing me down
Big bottles of emptiness, and
Though poetry still flows on seamlessly,
Love comes trickling down,
For that's all that's left in this spring,
Till it finds another source some day.
And I hold on to my empty flask
As the ages whistle by like the wind
Hoping it will be full somehow,
Just enough for this lifetime.
And I know that it might take a while,
And I may never be whole again, but
I still sit by, waiting for that moment
When I can write that perfect rhyme.

Thursday, October 9, 2014


Maybe we messed it up last time,
But I have already filled out
The forms for the next attempt;
I proof-read my application this time,
The forms have been accepted too,
And it is now time to send the abstract
Of the life we plan to live next time.
Hopefully I shall have one,
And hopefully I shall find you again.
I don't know what to propose, though;
We could be those ants we didn't kill,
Or the dogs we loved so much,
Or maybe just be humans again;
Better aligned though, than this time.
Or maybe I'll be the moon
And just spy on you as you sit
By your window, looking at me
Dreamy-eyed; your lips on your cigarette.
The signs clearly don't work well on you,
So we'll make them stronger next time,
And although your sign is also required
On the form, they asked me to still apply,
Saying they might still accept my paper
If you haven't sent another one -
An abstract with other preferences.

But then I don't really love you now,
Not the way I did for sure;
I realise that it is the idea of you
That I am now in love with,
And that idea doesn't belong to you,
For it is the other way around.
This has little to do with you anymore,
But instead with where you stemmed from,
With all the abstracts you brought along
And dumped at my doorstep;
And although the door's still open for you,
I don't wait there anxiously anymore,
For I'm busy fitting the abstracts
Into tiny spaces I built for them
From the crater you left behind;
And once I have them all in place,
I may not really need you anymore,
For everything I ever loved about you
Will be right by my side, where I want them;
For we might part and we may meet again,
But these abstracts will stay with me forever.

Tuesday, October 7, 2014


I want you to come back to me once
So I can untie myself, for
These knots we tied ourselves with
Are far too intense
To untie while you're so far away
All these strings entangled
And taut with the strain
And though its now mostly painlessly numb
I suspect this might not be permanent yet
That there could be life in this flesh again
If I can find a way to cut you away
The signs are history, and what we felt
Is past; and the future is always hazy at best
But if you could survive
Without your ego for a while
Then I will try and make it quick
So why don't you visit for a while?
We won't talk if you don't want to
Just come and sit on a chair,
Though it's not fancy; I'll make you some tea
And I'll place some cushions for you
So your dress won't get soiled -
That pretty white evening dress you wear.
It won't take long I assure you
I'll just get my tools and straight to work
Just come close enough for a while
So the strings are lax and I can see well enough
For me to untie these knots and yank you out.

Sunday, October 5, 2014

Bungee Jumping

As the rush of the adrenaline starts
To settle down a bit, I begin to wonder
How to explain this to you
In words that you might understand;
That I was afraid of this too, just like you are,
But then I have taken the leap
And I'm falling head first, rope attached
To my feet, hopefully stretching every second,
And you were the one I fastened the other end to;
That this is something I've not done before,
And something I'd have never done
If not for your assurance, when you said,
"I'm sure about this; very sure";
And now I'm nearing the length
And though I'm glad to know in advance
That you may not be there to hold on anymore,
That I have this time to ponder
Over what went wrong, and to learn from experience,
You see, I can't seem to reverse this fall
And I'm now in mid air, with nothing to hold on to,
And gravity is mostly non negotiable.
I have tried to grasp frantically,
But there aren't many branches strong enough
To hold on to, to break this fall.
There are only two ways in which this can end,
And as I go on, I see that the ground doesn't pixelate
In real life, even while zooming in fast, and
I grasp, this time for some words to explain to you,
That it'll hurt when it hits me, and I know it was my call;
That it was I who took the plunge and put myself here,
But wasn't it your idea to go Bungee Jumping?

Wednesday, October 1, 2014


You could be clairvoyant,
For the last you dreamt was of snakes.
And I have become one now -
I writhe with my belly on the ground,
Dragging myself, hiding in dark corners.
I zigzag my way, slithering up and down,
Hoping to shake you off somehow,
But  you're stuck to my skin, a part of my grain,
So I'll just have to peel you off now;
And cut supplies to the affected zone;
To that part of me still stuck on you
Like lips to a frosty ice-pack.
So I shake off my languor, wrench all my bones,
Contract my mind and bend my soul;
And push all that's yours right to the verge.
Then I peel off my skin for it's numb anyway,
And patiently await till it's done;
Until I've tilted every inch of those scales
So I can writhe out in hope for a clue,
And as I slither away without you by my side,
I realise you'd peeled me off too...