Air

Life isn’t short,
It’s unpredictable,
You can scheme and extort
Or act mystical,
Build a few forts
And be typical
Because in your grave
Darkness will prevail,
But I say, be brave,
For you’ll be so pale
That the light you’ll crave
Will come from the scales
On your rotten skin.
You’ll glow and shine
From toe to chin,
As insects, on you that dine,
Shall be your only kin.
If the end is same,
Then why do you care,
About making a name,
Or what you wear,
Just go as you came,
All you need is air.

Stop Smiling

There is a dark place
It has a smiling face
Bright and sunny
All jokes funny
Just give it to me
I know you can be
Damn straight
And unlock the gates
To your fury
And be judge and jury
When I’m guilty
And you think I’m filthy
So talk with your mouth
Let’s have it out
I’m a bitch
The ugly hitch
In your uphill climb
I know that’s my crime
But I’ve done my time
You pathetic swine
I’m walking away
And you should pray
That I don’t come back
To break and crack
Your brittle bones
With sticks and stones
And rip out your guts
Without making any cuts
Cause I have no fear
Of killing my dear.

Guide to a Metropolis

In a metropolis, find yourself lost,
Pluck a flower, it has no cost,
Or sit on the roof of a sky-scraper,
Behold a world, nevermind the vapors.

Gaze at people, see their undoings,
Misery makes for compelling viewing.
Observe calves and babies suckling at teats,
As you hear the whirs and chirps compete.
Revel in the colours through gray smoke,
Surround yourself with shouts and croaks.

In a metropolis, once lost, never found,
Unlike your small country town.

Unoriginal Sins

A life of Pleasure,
Such as can be,
For a soul of mankind, nothing divine;
It was my Tragedy,
Such as can be,
For this flesh of mine, a cup of wine.

To fellows, I was naught but good,
Love and Compassion, as you would.
Repent I would not,
Forget I would not,
Past walked beside me,
Present in my hand, Future gone.

Guilt is calling to me,
A Sinner I have been,
But Sinner I shall be,
For therein lies my Suffering,
And therein lies my Salvation,
And the two shall never meet.

The Suicide Poem

She was a bad woman.
A mango, a melon, a lemon,
A call, a rebuke, a summon,
Baffled her same as the oven.

She used to be a good girl.
A gem, a diamond, a pearl.
She took whatever they hurled,
Gave a little bow and a twirl.

She heard them utter
Such intricately beautiful lies,
She started to flutter and stutter,
To look towards the skies.

Her mind was a swamp, a gutter,
And so this poem dies.

Flowers

A garden, abundant in buds
Had all but two duds
With different parents,
Each with boastful talents.
One brought lovers together,
The other could bear any weather.

The buds grew side by side,
For the garden was not wide.
Intimately entwined,
On each other’s minerals they dined.
Time revealed beautiful flowers,
Bright in both, sun and showers.

They were ready to procreate.
The garden thought it inappropriate.
So defying all-logical Fate
They did not mate.
There was nothing more to share,
Their petals were falling, soon they’d be bare.

The buds, now flowers, have grown apart,
To survive, and get a fresh start.
They left each other as friends,
Having to make no amends.
These flowers will make their own plants.
Discuss their happiness? We shan’t.

The End

Standing at the ledge;
There are city lights beyond,
Each house with a trimmed hedge
And pools instead of ponds.

The pills are getting warm;
Sitting idly on the hand,
Surrounded by bills, forms,
Some water and poetry, both bland.

A noose is scratching at the neck
And the ceiling may come down,
But there will be no more cheques,
And no revealing frown.

A walk down memory lane,
As the feet move along the street,
Someone’s bullet takes away the pain
Though he didn’t mean to cheat.

A Man and a Boy

The Shadow is hope.

It moves into the light of despair,
And in its darkness, all is bared.
The man appears from within the boy,
No more love, and no more toys.

Survival is the day’s order,
Along with forming needless borders.
It gives birth to misery,
And pretends to heal each injury.

Hope is just a shadow.

Drifting Away

Its funny how being one in seven billion is considered a privilege, and its supposed to make us unique. But me, I just feel more and more like a miniscule drop of water in a glass, trying its best to eveporate into elation, desperately bumping here and there for energy and perspective.

For the Love of Fear

Four walls around a lone door
That opens with nothing but might;
A dark sky around a lone moon
That shines on borrowed light.
Some of us only come alive it seems,
When we yield and bow down in fright.

Alas! The fear isn’t for those on the ground,
It’s felt by the one atop a height.
The night sky’s just embracing the moon,
As it hides the sun in plain sight.
And the light under the lone, black door
Casts shadows on each wall of white.