Monday, November 26, 2012

A trace of mine

I don’t know what clouds stand gathering,
Which stare down upon me now
I could not earlier bear, stand suffering
but now, I’m forced to welcome it somehow

My imagination painted the beginning,
of what seemed like an eternal heaven
Ignorant that I was already given up,
before the months finished numbered seven

And amidst most of these memories,
of which I don't know use;
perplexed whether I can rely on them,
to chase some shady hues

But I know the flavor of fading now,
Diminishing just doesn’t come to me
What trace of mine will fate allow;
A part which grows, such even I cannot see

Sunday, November 11, 2012

The Tree

What is it about this tree,
Which keeps me enchanted this night
Something within it is not so free,
That I think of its unknown plight

So many passerby’s beneath its leaves,
have shelter when needed taken;
and the tree stands, and believes,
That they have love for it awaken

Also when they spoke to it,
As if it was their most loved claim;
And while leaving it alone again, admit,
and etch forever their lover’s name

Yes, stand beneath, don’t take me home
The tree didn’t say, but felt it forever
I long you to stay, forbidden wish overgrown
And I know you’ll be with me never

Time has gone, and the tree stood still
To blossom or not, not per its will
I now know what enchanted, now I see
The tree stood there, reminding I of me

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

The heart must now begin to stand

Beginning whole, to every last strand,
the heart must now begin to stand
An endeavor to resurrect into any form;
perplexed to fathom, was this its last storm

Will the soul lose in this conquest,
Or will it turn or burn or decay
The heart disbelieves this very concept;
a lot leaps to surround from yesterday

Looking at the depths down below,
the color the shade of cold snow
The heart wouldn’t know, it was young;
afraid to linger in hope, afraid to be stung

And now when it foresees truth in a way;
It must learn, despite its dismay
Of why leaning on it can be so hard,
denying obviousness can leave it scarred

To survive alone or to crumble like sand,
The heart must now begin to stand

Friday, October 12, 2012

Its greatest divide

That was achieved in that clueless state,
was premeditated and yet was sought to fight
I would laugh sometimes, upon impaired fate
Cutting its own wings, as it took its flight

The heart never sought this throbbing preference,
What I would withhold, and what I could confide
Despite hours of omitted reason and enduring severance,
This spirit will still be seeking its greatest divide

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Time and I

For every moment I dare to seize,
Another arises to break its spell
The time which brings me to my knees
Time was brutal, it knew it well

Who am I to comprehend at once;
What stole us away in tons
And even though I tried its test
Time always claimed whats best

I try to prevent, as I fall;
But time also just knew it all
The universe makes us meet each day,
From memories such I cannot say

Time still didn’t stop at that;
it arose, a demon in my habitat
Told me reasons, sane, it seems;
as it crushed my every dream

But I still stand, with equal hope,
Filled with more than I can cope
I reject all that time suggests
And enter the lair of these quests

Sunday, September 16, 2012

My true rising

For nights, I pondered what kept me awake
Before I knew this just wasn’t for any sake
It dawned upon a realization hard to master
In this world so artificial and full of plaster
In your eyes, I saw what was so recalling;
Tried in vain and in your love I keep falling
As we started walking, gathering sand and roses,
You gave me more than what fate supposes
And then I knew what I had always missed;
was the sweetness of your very charming kiss
And when I looked back, of how must I was lost,
Despite I would perish, I would pay to fate any cost
The strength I found, not from temples or churches
I realize that as this craving slowly emerges
I will love you to the end of my diminishing trace,
and wait for your touch, that warm embrace
As others seek fame, possessions, those things and all
I realize my true rising always lay in this fall

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

An unknown source

As intoxicated I lay, losing some strength;
Longing just a word, my wish knew its length
Beginning to walk upon an undrawn path,
Knowing nothing of consequences and its aftermath

I felt so dependent on some will,
Which turned to me and asked me still,
I seek no refuge within these fears,
Which defined me as well, through these years

Beneath this smiling, laughing face, I wear,
An unknown evil for me to bear;
Looked no further, just another burning flame
but to us now it looked all the same

The sparks always attempted to fall beyond
That place which was with cold, wetness bound
Some thoughts did tangled me within,
And always tore away the healthy sin

A sword beside; and from fate, a relentless frown,
Though always attempts to turn me down;
And in dwells this mind full of mysteries I know,
Which killed a waking presence long ago

Though as I stand at this arch of stone;
freezing, shivering, aching to every bone
Heights it reached of some burning desire,
the last attempts to fight the volcano with fire

It is not lost, not found, neither in any power;
The longest wait is the last minute of the hour
Beaten down to its mistakenly subtle force,
All within, just within, was its unknown source

Friday, August 17, 2012

Bit by bit

As lost, unstructured, battered and hopeless I feel about some of the things not falling at place – I also feel something else. I cannot define what this is, but it is just there – neither a force I could define, neither something which forms my stronger side. All I know is that is not a bad or a good side, or a wrong or a right; this is just something which keeps dying and resurrecting. In one small human life of billions and trillions of others who have passed their living and dying on this very earth, there is something which beats other than a heart. What beats within, I do not know. What I do know is that this refuses to die. This refuses to compromise, to accept defeat, to give up or strive for lesser. I have not even a hint of predictability skills to gauge what will happen next, and neither do I know whether these millions attempts will take me to success. I do not know if these trials do carry the weight to my freedom, or to whatever I know of satisfying this restless soul.

Courageous resolves are not an overnight phenomenon. The goals might not be as dreamy as they seemed, when you achieve them. The world worthy to live those dreams might perish bit by bit. The hopes might be extinguished each time they’re kindled. Failure may laugh at your face, and the world may seem like taking itself and you a peg lower each day. Yet, I will wait for those nights where my mind is not dominated by thought, but only one thing – courage. As mysterious the dawn is, hence I do not know whether it will come – but I stand here – waiting until I perish. I will get up tomorrow, and move. Even if it’s an inch and even if the circumstances throw me a hundred steps behind – I will move – bit by bit.

Monday, July 23, 2012

The frustrated in-between; the unknown beginning

Security - I don't know if its a good thing.

As I write this, I am almost mentally kicking myself of how much time I have wasted thinking if security is an essential in life. I am working my way through a 'normal' life - job and all, weekends spent lazying, city, traffic, earnings, savings, investments, et al. Meeting some people, some emotionally connected phone calls, some pure 'blah.'

But today, just today, looking at a piece of paper made me think - how secure am I really? In a world where anyone and anything can shuffle my cards - what can I measure my security by? By how much money I have or save? By my purchasing power? By how my family and friends are; and how they will be with me? By giving a thought if I am or not (or should be) in a stable relationship? By how much knowledge I have, and how much is going to 'cash me in?' By what measures people think I am secure / settled? By what measures I can keep the others happy, or do "good" to the world?

The voice within me lurked at me at me at first, and then burst out laughing. "Nothing is secure!" it said. "Nothing is secure, unless you are 'living.' 

It is true, I guess. It can be all, some of the above - or none of the above. It is just what makes you truly happy (and not what you are programmed to think that should make you truly happy)

I know it has been long that I wish to break the handcuffs from this life in which I am thrown into (though I am grateful for quite some aspects of it, seriously!) a great unknown pit - which others seem to know so very fucking well.

I realized today that I took many many things for granted. One of them - and one of the most important one - is my urge to write. I took it for granted that how for 25 years, I dreaded reading alone - and here I am, wanting to just write.I took it for granted that without being a reader, I have the urge to write fiction, and the itch to etch stories - to tell the tales which I wish to be my first reader of. I took it for granted that I have it in me to take a stride and have the will to be on my own. I took it for granted that people who put me down at all points in life were failures in some way in their own life and emotional quotients - a sad kind of lame thinking - and that I knew much more than them, all the time. I took it for granted that I have the inseparable spirit to wake up to my mistakes and admit them - the spirit to change and adapt, and not sink in the quicksand of some warped kind of constancy which is mistaken for virtue.

So - what would it require? I don't exactly know. But I surely know of what it won't require. My journey hence is just going to be trying to avoid the unnecessary to the truest extent possible - at least for beginning it.

So, there have to be decisions now. Tough decisions. Decisions which make me dubious of my own existence. Decisions which seem too large - too much to handle (but I am 'normal' 'selfish' 'chauvinist' and a 'complete failure at making anyone happy' - the nasty critic who dwells within me says). And those decisions are not on display, but rather to be taken more than a mere resolve.  And honestly, I don't care who is with me and who isn't. In fact, I wish to take this journey on my own. I wish to stand on my own feet - or die.

People are going to have issues with this change. But I can't help it. I have a life to live; I have a life to fight for, and not give in; to achieve what I aspire - or die in the process - and make it secure.   

Sunday, May 27, 2012

The haze

Yes, it is possible that you change to someone else and see yourself as another.

Numb – A word of which I am somehow getting to feel the meaning of. Storms are not necessarily born out of situations, but may sometimes be born of a pattern as well. It is pretty wonky for me as well (as I trust must be for you) to associate the words numb and storm together. The first few hits, you just don’t get it. There comes a time when it seems time is just pulling you away and slowing you down.

I wonder most times why is it so tough for humans to accept the fact that they change; and change much more than they anticipated. This is because somehow change is somehow also notionally attached to the concept of character.

Yes, this is a change in persona, and it has been a rollercoaster ride. I don’t pretty much say this being full of pride or anything. I thought it was over after a round, but it seems the ride owner feels like sending me for an extra trip. I hope it stops sometime.

I inspired to be a fiction writer and it is precisely before 4 years I dared this thought into my system. I write quite a bit, but most of it is just thoughts. It has been around 2 years since I have written any fiction at all. I had some spurts of enthusiasm which made me jot down a few lines, and then – boom! An empty cloud just came and attacked that part of which was a storyteller. Somehow, subconsciously, I let the other life affect me (whatever the other life had to offer). It’s like having hazy mirrors all around you, and making you seem unfamiliar.    

I wasn’t the IQ sort of person (and am not pretty much now as well) and I didn’t have many ‘dreams’ or ‘ambitions.’ I honestly don’t understand this concept too much. But amongst all the highs and lows, one thing which caught my interest was writing. As to how words form on the blank page. I found it the most beautiful medium capable of the best telepathic ability which is not restricted to anything at all (not even the king of destinies – time).

At this juncture, I really need to figure out how this will turn out. Somehow the creative centre of mine is not only sleeping, but I think it has gone away. All I can do now is wait.

This post is not to make a point. A man like me is not pretty good with such things. I thought I might figure out something’s as I came to the blank page, but for now, I can just wait until the haze clears.

Monday, April 9, 2012

The voice

There was a time when tides were high
And drowned I was in its deluge
The present didn’t have much to magnify
The future was always there with its refuge

Whether I tried or didn’t try hard enough
There was a voice, and that was me
It came to rescue and it came tough
Some wisdom that would set me free

It kept me noble, it kept me strong,
When times seemed they would on me prey
Something to hold on forever so long
And I felt it wouldn’t ever betray

In times, genuine and classically veneered
Some questions which never ever appeared
When would times hit me so strange?
That I would be plagued by constant change

The voice no longer talks to me
I’ve been searching for it in vain
Perplexed it is to some degree
Is this nothingness, or is this pain

Visions - they dart in my path to and fro
Each ready with a fanatical sign
I said to them, not quite long ago
That nothing is anyone’s, and nothing is mine.

All that I find in wilderness and wood
To walk the miles, whether I should
To what is will and what is desire
Can’t take much than my heart can acquire

The visions in the mirror are now unclear
As I’m trailing behind of who I am
It seems too much distance to cover
The dismay of belonging to a mindless clan

So where is that voice, disappeared somehow
I still search for it in vain
I search for it here and forever now
And await something pleasantly insane

Sunday, March 11, 2012

I run

I run, away from those views,
Which make the sunsets seem like joy.
Much to repel under its blues;
Seeking to find, then to destroy.
I might chase the dreams
and the future so very unknown;
Despite the natures hideous schemes.
The likelihood of some darkness shown
Because every light has its dark side;
And every dark side most times is nothing
Too much to take within long strides,
Decisions in the present, overwhelming
Much seems like there is to abide
Much seems like I shouldn’t
And why I shall everything provide
At a time I just could, or I just couldn’t
And now when the heart and mind divide,
Conviction, wanted but shall be devoid  
A feeling so mortal, which makes me now
Persistently, yet so rare, it does seldom allow
Now ready to face my adored adversary,
I wish to now fill myself with silence
The stillness right now, constant ancillary;
 To a being craving for some inane guidance.
I run, away with those fickle views,
Which make the sunsets seem like joy.

Monday, January 2, 2012

A story lost, a story found

The stealing had been done
But I walked endless miles
Every restless duty shunned
And donned spurious smiles

I call out your name always, forever
Drifting thoughts of you
Even silence hears them mild
In the city, and the wild

Can nothingness be felt?
Was a query before me
Could all intentions be spelt?
Feelings in a never ending spree

Then it so arrived, an awakening
which slumbered all these years
why do we let these times distance?
why do we give in to our fears?

A dew shining amidst the grass
Taught me what I seldom learnt before
Each come upon their own fate
Some have less time, some have more

I breathe my own mythologies
and some are the ones borrowed
Sometimes, we wore it in a guise
And yet, saw it in our eyes

Our poetry, dancing on the shore
As we knock yet another door
A story was lost, a story was found
The clock mesmerizingly wound

I sang to this starved, hungry ocean
a sea of your dearth, distant corrosion
To see ourselves sovereign of us
And deny the learning superfluous

Not limited by these poor rhymes
Sifting the perplexity of all the times
Our cravings must not now burn and beat
but live to see it form new feet

Why curtains be drawn upon such nights,
strangled in a silence of wrong and right
Let the tamed wilderness cry out loud
The fertile secret between us proud

And how the vague love gave in such
Shall be written, on immortal pages
The divine beauty of such touch
Freedom from designed solitary cages

And our being itself being nothing
It matters just who it be
Of generous things, we give ourselves
In this speck of life, we envisage a sea