Waking Life

Free as a bird,

She glides smoothly 

Across her Universe-

With her soul light,

Her inner goddess 

Prances about with joy.

Her dark eyes brooding-

A clash against the porcelain white,

The orbs moist,

Yet ringed with wonder.

She feels her own evolution-

Her own transient metamorphosis,

Into a numb being devoid of  reactions.

Her eyes, blank and omniscient-

Stare at the savagery of the times,

Or find mirth in life's rhymes.

She absorbs but forgets to reflect.

Yet in her mind,

She feels free today-

As she no longer is chained by 

The weight of his presence-

That only served to undermine and gnaw

At her own spirited person.

Long ago she had left,

All dreams of a walk into the future,

With hands held and eyes locked.

In her world today,

These were but paltry visions-

Defying reality.

Jarred by the blackness of his persona,

She thanks God for the reawakening,

That came sooner than later,

For a healing to occur.

He had been a parasite merely-

Only lived to kill her beauty within.

She feels light,

A spring in her steps.

Her gait is purposeful-

As her pace takes her away from him,

Delve deeper into her own space,

To find her own self- intact.

She feels right,

The end is blurred doubtless,

Yet the means to it are clearer today.

She feels no love,

Walled be her presence,

Yet in its limits, reside her serenity.

Her way to hope, 

She chooses to recreate.

Placing her faith in none,

She learns to unlearn.

Leaning on none,

She decides to follow her heart still-

As it remains tightly clutched-

And not left astray on someone else's sleeve.

Her eyes have changed expressions too,

The jaggery seems jagged now-

Edges carved out with grit.

In caution lies her key,

In pristine sanguinity,

She roots her many dreams.

She still walks on her path of eggshells,

The cracks a cause for a jab back to earth.

Solitary she prefers her solitude,

Peace of mind at the cost of her own pieces.

She keeps happy smiley faces at bay,

Around her like happy balloons-

To lift her up and soar high-

While all along she remains

A silent trespasser

Of her own waking life.

Eyes

Looking into your eyes,
I feel unsettled-
As the ashes have not been dusted off as yet.
You still splash across my mind,
As I stare at the cloudless sky-
The canvas of the flashes left long behind.
Perhaps it's not sunk in yet-
Or it still remains an incomplete fact,
Yet to be reconciled with.
The thoughts race as I look deeper,
Into the many layers veiled in your eyes.
The abstracts of all pent ups,
Rise up like bile-
The questions still linger on.
The voice caresses me in its memory,
Positivity shining bright.
The void bleak-
In your absence.
Certain parts of the room,
Still so sombre  in the dark,
As the armchair remains, sans its occupant.
Maybe I still look out for you,
Not accepting a certain inevitable.
Yet am forcibly reduced,
To look into your eyes,
As I communicate all that I must.

The Face

Through the cracks of silence,
And the pores of distance,
She peeks at the flashes of a memory dimmed.
Yet tonight seemed different-
As the candle light reminded her
Of a similar night
A couple of years back.
Drawn, by her own curiosity,
No longer frozenly withdrawn,
She lets the soothing silence steal over her-
As she hugs her knees to herself.
She lifts her eyes towards the ceiling-
Letting her mind draw the patterns,
And slowly as her thoughts gather form,
The face she had faded out for so long-
Regains shape and its arrogant structure.
The candle lit room show silhouettes in the wall,
And dark eyes, alight with un-denied desire.
She breathes in the smell she knew so well.
And lets it linger on for longer
As she giddily recollects greedily,
Of all that she'd felt then.
The ecstasy was sweeter,
In the knowledge of  a forbidden territory.
Yet a secret shared and cherished for sometime,
Edged sharply by the duality of times.
The words that'd followed- mellow in the aftermath,
Had ringed with promises that one could trust,
But must not.
Yet intensely,
The moment was all of truth,
And strangely of a childish dream come true-
In itself, flavored with hedonism.
The face she knew so well,
Remained thus as a skeleton in her closet,
But her secret desire nevertheless.
The face, in all its darkness,
Could still bring a smile-
For the agreement was mutual,
Of being & keeping a secret well.

Lighthouse

Standing on your toes,
You have let me dance through life.
Watched the world peering over the broad shoulders,
As you'd slowed down the pace,
And the simplified the wise ways.
You'd let me love the sunsets,
Instilling in me a faith in the sunrises,
Of a newer better tomorrow.
Letting me choose my pathways,
You've always let me have my way,
Forever remaining as a silent messiah,
A beacon in the dark-
Illustrative of all of Wisdom's good.
You have never painted me a picture
Of an ideal reality.
Rather, sacrosanct,
I hold your view,
Of a fulcrum outdoing darkness.
In my ascent,
Your words ring true,
As I gain my strength and composure.
I think of  you too,
At home,
Waiting and watching with a knowing look,
An omniscient supreme.
The hearth drawer and the painter of many dreams,
I have watched the sublime dreamer in you subside and submit.
Yet the surrender - though negated by most-
Was never seen as paltry.
My rise must mark its cognizance.
The hands that have conjured smiles on many,
Are those to be nurtured and nursed.
Therein lies a feat.
And as the cherub climbs up the ropes of evolution,
The lighthouse must shine on for her too-
Panning across miles and waves-
To illumine her a way she must choose.

Charms

Some kind of madness,

Swallows me whole,

Guiding me to what I call 'home'-

With the chains of dormancy,

Fading slowly,

A numb mind regains motion.

The star-less night sky-

A joy -

As the cold showers,

Pelt away on the window pane,

In urgency.

A wake-up call from a life gone awry?

I stare mesmerized-

At the dark grey green hills that beckon to me 

In all its mystery-

A curious contradiction of the known unknown.

The haunted soul,

Hunts for its missing pieces-

Hungry as a child for its mother's touch -

As the snake like path,

Winds its way to sense,

The horizon,

Less distant than I might have believed.

Reflective and pensive,

I settle back uneasy on my seat-

Watching the familiar images flash me by-

Memories tumbling over one another

Of another day, another time-

Not too far away in the past.

But clear as crystal,

Many answers dawn on my introspective questions.

Obviating my own void.

I have weight on my feet- not my mind.

My dance will always be,

As I choose - 

Steps following my own

Space and Time.

My veins shall always

Sing with a rhythm known,

As a sense of freedom must always 

Beseech me.

Let my sense of wonder,

Remain naive-

As I can still find joy 

In the simplest of things.

Let life be uncomplicated

With people I love

As a child.

A slow smile spreads,

As my heart gets to win over my shackled mind.

Armed with decisions,

I let the sound of happy muzak,

Erode through the corrosion 

Of my eros.

And at the heart of it all,

Shines my little kingdom,

In all its silvery glory.

A 'home'

To which I shall soon return.

The Wine Wizened Daze

You've been on my mind,
As much I try to run from it-
Putting up mental walls to block the images-
But they keep coming back.
I realize there's no end to you in my life-
We go on- a flow best left abstract.
The saga continues-
As in moments of alacrity,
We seek simplicity-
Perhaps best found in our eyes.
We never seem to drift,
Nor let distance affect our meets-
Despite not being on 'talking terms'.
Close to 7 years now,
And miles apart with no knowledge
Of divergent lives,
Past conversation threads,
Still linger on -
As haunting extensions of thought.
Whenever, wherever
Our paths have crossed,
You've always restored a sense of balance
In me- made me see me in a better light.
Each time the search for each other-
Has only made us better as beings to be re-introduced.
Somewhere down the line,
Our innocence of the simple days,
Of the simple ways of earlier life,
Still prevail.
So that despite all complexities and wine wizened daze,
Our certain vintage charm in sepia mode,
Survives -  like old wine in  a new bottle.
Out of a sense of re-attachment and self-inquisition.
I need to know about you and me-
About the journey headed to unknown destinations.
With my palms pressed against the tinted glass,
I need to see how much our surroundings have changed-
Or how far we've traveled sans a certain comfort.
The onward path-
Shaped by winds of change to imperfection
And carved by incompletion of the two lives.
Seized my wonderment,
Struck by the moment,
I feel a spark of joy light up-
For I know we've left the path open ended,
And shall meet again-
Only to ascertain the background score.

Pantomime

So we met,
Like you'd wanted.
Sat, side by side-
Wordless ;
As the power of speech left us
And silence rendered us beseechless.
In our minds,
The myriad questions lingered on,
Our story played out its own roll-
Outplayed. Outlived ?
Yet the answers were the monsters,
We shied away from -
Silence stretched on,
As the clock ticked its own hour.
My dark eyes like opaque orbs -
Walls through which you never could reach within.
You did your best,
To wrest the space
Ward off the coldness cementing-
Break all the shackles of a narrow mind made up.
I knew your moves,
Knew your game.
Could thus face you - frozen.
We played out our roles,
Like empty casts in a pantomime,
Till the time came for me to leave.
So I left,
Like I'd wanted.
Walked away without a backward glance-
You moved on too-
With your eyes on my back.

The Cello

The cello plays a poignant tune -
Crying for all that is worth,
And yet not meant to be.
The eye is not to see,
But be-
As a reminder of a mirror,
That it was held to be.
The chastened soul,
Must travel the bruised path,
Set to the tune of another's design.
For that's how it must be.
An impassive face meets stony silence,
Icy winds down the hollow graveled road.
The paradox pervasive in its duality,
The truth versus the unknown.
A silent need versus the expressed shared.
When the rage subsides in me,
Out of sight,out of mind-
Shall reign in a sense of wonderment.
In itself a peace.
Or is it?
Confusion runs in circles,
There is more than meets the eye,
I realize, or make myself to.
Or maybe delusion is all I seek.
The cello is more sitar like now.
The pace faster,
As I still reel answerless.
The raga more known.
As I remain immobile,
Clutching at straws.

Chasing the Noir

She sips her frothless coffee,
Sitting alone outside the cafe,
Delicate her actions,
Lest they perturb her train of thought.
She dwells furtively,
On the meaningless mirages,
Her life seems filled with.
Her answers have no questions.
Or perhaps, she lacks courage to find
The right words to question her inner demon.
Twilight sees the hurried footsteps
Rush by her,
In their efforts to reach the shelter of home.
Mundane - she scorns with disdain.
What is home?
What is anything?
The abstract absurdity of it all,
Sinks inside- sedimenting and rotting within.
Her fight for truth and normalcy,
Wages a silent painful war inside.
Id pit against Ego-
As she meanders,
Chasing the Noir.
Outside her mental  fences,
Stand the people who love her,
But somewhere,
Her twisted mind ,
Questions their intentions.
Judgemental of motives.
Guarded strong,
Her defenses,
Search for a loophole,
Or a catch to peg her negation on.
Far away are those,
Who must remain peripheral to vision.
But in them she finds her meaninglessness more meaningful-
Than ever before.
She wants none to cross over and reach her core.
So she runs away from the only one,
Who chases her,
For he sees right through her facade,
And yet -
Still loves her albeit.
But - what is love?
What is anything?
She sighs- unhappy her childish mind.
For she cannot make anyone understand.
Her 'who' has translated into a 'what',
As she struggles to give her id an identity.
The black coffee-cold now-
Stares back at her balefully-
For it too, cannot furnish her reasons enough,
Of her plight.
She stirs it,
Wishing it to be a crystal ball,
That would frame the cobwebs of her mind-
To a rigid form.
She loves him too,
Or hopes she does.
For he is the one,
She  likes running to,
Chasing the Noir-
When nothing seems right anymore-
Or then again,
What is right after all?

Unhinge

There seems to be something to seek,
Not sure of what to search for.
Some answers evade,
Of questions unframed.
A break from monotony- mutiny?
To unhinge.
An irrepressible desire,
To be closer to the roots-
In touch with nature and natural.
Succumbing to the wealth and warmth
Of human bondage-
In contact with freedom -
And all the 'beams' it may espouse.
Harmonize inner being,
Find a core - a self.
Re-gain a depth,
Afresh- refreshed.
Is it clarity or catharsis?
Or synthesis in symbiosis?
Strange the twists of irony-
As it unfolds its manifolds.
A 'knight' shining like a surprising beacon,
To illumine a certain path of life.
Subtly, unknowingly highlighting,
A course of action.
Peace, in solitude,
Gravity in retrospection.
Mistakes seem heavy-
Not a burden anymore.
To be kept away,
Locked in private shelves,
Away from prying wonders-
Never deleted,
But fodder to be ruminated on.
Random, generates more concretes,
Than any planned structure.
Some more time then,
To crawl out of the shell.
To give the voice,
The much needed choice.
Break free, from all that constricts-
To think and feel again.

Spaces And Faces

Lost in the star shine,
My eyes on the horizon-
My mind a thousand miles away-
I feel the subtle flow of space,
Embrace me in its core essence.
Soulful moments of solitude-
Precious moments of loving silence,
I ruminate on the abstract - distractedly.
Red eyes - half closed,
I deep-dive into the granular depths,
Of the many concentric circles of lies,
That beseech me.
Holding me ransom -
A captive to their bonds.
A strange ennui sets in,
Ringed by revulsion waves.
The Wisdom's prediction,
At the predicament -
Cackle Cackle,
The old soothsayer laughs,
Pointing at her crystal- now foggy.
I imagine the waves lapping at my feet,
As another image brings peace.
A much loved face in sharp contrast-
Near - yet so far.
And shall always be so,
Aloof -  in inadmissible silence.
The trusted upturned face looks up,
Its soft features blurred.
The child's trust- indelible.
The mother's love,
Inexpressible.
Yet, ironically,
The weight of the chains,
Burden me,
The escape routes shine brighter,
As I creep back stealthily,
To the haven that space alone creates for me-
A shelter from the noise.
My world away from the symbols.

27 gb of muzak

Its funny how through,
An odd contrast of contradictions,
A curious middle path persists.
It strengthens and gathers a shape -
The amorphous subtly  resembles a starfish.
So what binds the trajectory?
Words? Notes? Keys?
Or a certain milieu of the Undefined?
Let the sleeping dogs lie.
The bark may as well spoil the hark.
The easy camaraderie the days slip,
Themselves into-
Is a sudden but expected stalwart
Of an unquestionable support.
The simplicity stands out steadfast.
The steady seeks the confused-
The 'wor(l)dy-wise' meets the 'no-vice'.
The aura of peace - accentuated.
Words pelt out to the greedy ears,
As the mind races to gauge the understated.
Lichen and Moss,
The grass 'green' ,
In the yellow sun hues.
Supernatural ?
Nay.
Just a "27 gb of muzak" bandwidth.

Stolen Moments

,

She hurried along,
Her sharp heels a clatter
Against the hard pavement.
The white sheet of rain,
Clouded her vision ahead.
But she knew he'll be there.
Like the old days.
As she took another step,
She clasped the hand she knew so well.
The crafted face looked at her-unsmiling.
The grey hair flatenned by the incessant pour.
The haze of the streetlight a mellow glow.
Soft yellow set the tinge,
As the lips met.
Hands held, they braved the rain-
To their shelter away from the prying world.
No hurry, no rush-
They sought peace in their well known enclosure.
Grey and green eyes- a familiar entrapment.
The love they made was not without fire.
It was one of knowledge of the past.
They spoke through their volumes of silence,
Words seemed paltry anyway.
Peace in a sinful comfort-
Their battered minds,
Powerless - a combat of conflicts.
Rueful at the passage of time,
That never saw them together.
Victims of the dreams of others,
They had ended up pawning lives.
Pawns themselves.
Their lives now,
Drained of emotions,
A mechanical existence without reason.
The stolen moments shared were,
Akin to prayers for the bliss of innocence.
She looked out-
Towards the night and beyond.
Secure in his arms,
Yet a mother now-
No more the carefree girl he had loved.
She fretted silently,
About her child.
And her husband as he drove back home.
She moved - he knew.
It was time to go.
To pick up the pieces of a hollow marriage.
He watched her as she stood-
Still regal despite the age.
Always the one woman he had dared to see through.
And submit to ceaselessly.
She looked at him-
Her soft eyes moist.
They would meet again-
Like this.
Shaded and jaded.
But no part of them incomplete.
Except their story.

Photograph

A part of me,
Stares in awe-
At the photographs,
Remembering the tangled.
Disbelief at suspension ;
Mesmerized by the meanders.
A wry smile suffuses,
Humor mustn't be lost.
Specially if its self-inflicted.
So should I question myself now?
The voluntary blindness that
I had sought refuge at?
Must I berate myself to my self-degradation,
Degenerate into a composite waste ?
I reach across,
To tear away the cobwebs-
That cloud my vision now.
In my ears ,
The banshee sings out  loud-
The words heard.
The words drilled in thus.
With the photographs,
Have died a lot of dreams.
A lot of me too.
The answers to questions,
Only bring despair.
As truth begets truth,
It negates efforts to search
For meanings not truly there.
The erstwhile peace,
Now steals over me like a disease.
Truly, we had no love-
But a beautiful deceit.
It seems, we were never united-
To be divided now.
What we had had-
Was just a dream.
 I've found visions of many things that never have been
Adrift in memories and your specter behind me.
And now I feel free of the misleading nectar,
Of your lies - and the folly in my sweet surrender.
Affirmation is supreme,
In my way to glory-
Sans an effigy of you-
That is fast receding.

Orange Blooms

As I sit,
Lost in my far away dreamland,
My gaze set on the grey horizon beyond-
With the cool wind as my Pacific -
My eyes perchance,
Chance upon tiny orange blooms-
Standing up tall,
Braving the drift.
I look at them-enchanted.
Unbeknownst of my knowledge,
They had existed for so long,
I look around my terrace,
Amazed - at the intricate aesthetics-
Of the myriad colors splashing across.
The orange fruits stare me down,
They seems to be saying something to me.
Reprimand mayhaps of my hapless ways.
The orange color a soothing blaze,
Bold yet subtle,
Its beauty an Aphrodite in essence.
As the wind gently rustles them,
And the rain droplets shower their love,
The orange blooms dance happily-
Set to the tune of their earthly simplicity.
Unique in unity too,
Joyful in their skin-
A league ahead  of  the rest,
They seek no pretense.
And mesmerized as I looked on,
Somewhere, I sensed a connect -
Of being - of totality -
Of a solitary peace - and its resonance.
My aura an orange hue-
As I underplay the basics.
Through the Looking Glass thus,
I sought my own mirage