Tuesday, July 28, 2009


"not right, not wrong,
this timeless face of yours."

Sunday, July 12, 2009

the unintended

is memory the problem
or the procrastination of
keeping in mind

Thursday, July 2, 2009

epiphany 0.1

it is, it is! it is possible to fall in love with, be in love with, remain in love with anyone and everyone except when the ego comes in the way.

and the ego always comes in the way.


who said this corridor is well lit, sparkly bright
no light shines at the end of this tunnel
but i'm interested enough to hope you'll keep me company in the dark
and if a mistletoe of pain awaits us
we shall kiss and then we shall part

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

title pending under indecision

i face the earth
you face the stars
and in our faces linger the yearning
of ageless hours
of fraught sunshine
and tangled moonbeams
and the rain choking
and the humiliated coffee bean

i smash the earth in your face
you smash the stars in mine
i go bright with disgrace
and you grow dark like the sun never shined

we claw at each other with the nails of our heart
we don't know how to part, my love,
we don't know how to part
we claw
and we wound
deliberately we beat
and we hack
and we wring and we strangle at every angle
we pull and we yank
and we slit and we stab
our follies have scarred every limb
every joint
every smile we shall smile
is stitched with a thousand lies
we groan and we moan
and we kick and we prick
and we smash-squeeze-shove-screw-PULVERIZE!

but you never die
and i never die

why all this fuss, my love,
why all this fuss

a flower loses a petal
but a flower does not bark
a flower does not bark
in daylight
or in the dark

but listen to me shriek, my love,
day and night
one loss of love, my love,
and an eternity of fright

what's left of you sits beside what's left of me

we don't know how to part, my love,
we don't know how to part
as petal-less flowers bloom in our heart


and when there is emptiness
then there is scope for a lot of thinking
and deluding and the building of uncertainties
and then fear.
fear that precipitates,
tangible on the skin that i'd never felt before.
fear in my eyes,
behind the lids.
fear grasping, chaining my ankles.
fear everywhere - the rim that encases my glasses.
the tip of this pen that writes.
fear! fear! everywhere!
what do i do?
why does emptiness
so automatically get filled
with dark, brooding, sombre fear?


I hate these pages
I hate what I write
Even more that I omit.
I hate myself
And I hate the core of your being.
I hate this universe
For the lack of a better reaction.
I hate everything that comes my way.
I hate boys
I hate women even more.
I hate that I'm funny
even when I'm sore, sore, sore.
I hate that I rhyme
My poetry with time.
I hate that I'm sick sick sick of myself!
I hate, I hate
And in hate I create.