hai barishon ka paani.
3am.
Rain outside my window.
Thunder and lightning
in my heart.
And the god
sleeps.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Monday, April 13, 2015
That's my kindness
When you look for me,
in between the tears of the rain,
When you seek love,
and I'm nowhere to be found,
When you call for me,
and I'm invisible
When you want to share anger,
and I'm invincible,
That's my kindness.
Friday, April 10, 2015
Monday, April 6, 2015
summons
he is a king without a kingdom,
born to rules hearts, as they say.
little does he know, he is the ruler of the universe
he has everything he could ask for,
and everything he didn’t.
the sun rises in the morning, shy and eager
hoping to shine on the right side of his bed.
the stars align themselves
born to rules hearts, as they say.
little does he know, he is the ruler of the universe
he has everything he could ask for,
and everything he didn’t.
the sun rises in the morning, shy and eager
hoping to shine on the right side of his bed.
the stars align themselves
like little girls in a ballet school,
wishing they shine down the path he walks on.
the trees whisper among themselves,
wishing they shine down the path he walks on.
the trees whisper among themselves,
hoping against hope
that he look up at them as he passes by.
the rain pours down joyously,
that he look up at them as he passes by.
the rain pours down joyously,
dancing among the leaves,
putting on a brilliant show,
putting on a brilliant show,
knowing he might look out the window.
the women pen for him the most romantic poems,
praying he read them, even if only to discard them
like dry shrubs through a forest of fire.
he is king to all, and slave only to himself,
he knows of mountains he has scaled alone,
and oceans he alone has crossed.
he rules the wind; and bids the waves on their journey to the horizon
he calls upon the birds to sing songs to his liking,
he persuades the landscapes to blur in to his paintbrush.
the women pen for him the most romantic poems,
praying he read them, even if only to discard them
like dry shrubs through a forest of fire.
he is king to all, and slave only to himself,
he knows of mountains he has scaled alone,
and oceans he alone has crossed.
he rules the wind; and bids the waves on their journey to the horizon
he calls upon the birds to sing songs to his liking,
he persuades the landscapes to blur in to his paintbrush.
he is king to all,
slave only to himself.
and yet he cannot ignore
the summons of his heart.
yes
"a tale is but half told,
when only one person tells it"
if you and i were
blindfolded
and left alone in the darkness
with no words left to say,
we would never seek to find each other,
knowing that the fire of your touch
would light up the dark,
and we would be discovered.
i will be content
to sit in the darkness with you,
share the air with you
feel the cold on your skin
and answer the questions your heart doesn't ask.
but we wouldn't touch
thankful for the only thing
that stands between me and you
and keeps us safe;
and keeps us safe;
- distance.
Sunday, April 5, 2015
goddesses
7am and i'm lying awake
too dazed from last night.
I believe I've had too much to drink,
too many smokes, and too many stories,
but what really got my blood racing
was your eyes saying what shouldn't be said.
drunk with your kisses,
tipsy from your fingers running down my back,
high from the sweet nothings whispered in my ear.
and the fire burns on,
knowing there is no cure
to the intoxication
that your spirit
wrecks on my soul.
oh, what sweet death to a firefly
burned while soaring
towards the sun!
too dazed from last night.
I believe I've had too much to drink,
too many smokes, and too many stories,
but what really got my blood racing
was your eyes saying what shouldn't be said.
drunk with your kisses,
tipsy from your fingers running down my back,
high from the sweet nothings whispered in my ear.
and the fire burns on,
knowing there is no cure
to the intoxication
that your spirit
wrecks on my soul.
oh, what sweet death to a firefly
burned while soaring
towards the sun!
Thursday, April 2, 2015
heart. break.
i hope you are happy. in the east.
i hope you are happy. in june.
i saw you the other day, walking down the street, tall and proud. as if you owned it. you walked fast as always. no short girl in high heels by your side to slow you down. i couldn't see your hands, they were bundled tight into your jacket pockets, but i knew you were wearing your fingerless striped gloves. hat on your head to keep your ears warm, and a muffler casually tied around your neck, as if the cold were just a part of your plan. indifferent to it, yet it circled around you as if you ushered it in yourself. as if it would just stop being cold after you walked by.
it seemed like a postcard in black-and-white. handsome man walking down a picturesque street in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, nonchalant, happy with just being. happy for the cobblestones under his feet. and the world around you was glowing back, as if it came into existence only after you looked at it.
only one thing was amiss. but you didn't seem to notice so it didn't really matter. a big splatter of red in the black-and-white frame. my heart torn to pieces, violated beyond measure, bleeding profusely, scratched and broken, barely breathing, exhausted from the violence, yet never really giving in to the shame of being broken by you.
the red splatter was a small inconsequential part of the entire photograph. something no one would even notice at first glance. something you didn't notice either. and as you walked by, the cobblestones bled red behind you, and nobody really cared.
no matter how much one may hate the sun, it still rises every morning. and no matter how many houses you occupy, you will never have a home.
this is the curse of fire.
i hope you are happy. in june.
i saw you the other day, walking down the street, tall and proud. as if you owned it. you walked fast as always. no short girl in high heels by your side to slow you down. i couldn't see your hands, they were bundled tight into your jacket pockets, but i knew you were wearing your fingerless striped gloves. hat on your head to keep your ears warm, and a muffler casually tied around your neck, as if the cold were just a part of your plan. indifferent to it, yet it circled around you as if you ushered it in yourself. as if it would just stop being cold after you walked by.
it seemed like a postcard in black-and-white. handsome man walking down a picturesque street in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, nonchalant, happy with just being. happy for the cobblestones under his feet. and the world around you was glowing back, as if it came into existence only after you looked at it.
only one thing was amiss. but you didn't seem to notice so it didn't really matter. a big splatter of red in the black-and-white frame. my heart torn to pieces, violated beyond measure, bleeding profusely, scratched and broken, barely breathing, exhausted from the violence, yet never really giving in to the shame of being broken by you.
the red splatter was a small inconsequential part of the entire photograph. something no one would even notice at first glance. something you didn't notice either. and as you walked by, the cobblestones bled red behind you, and nobody really cared.
no matter how much one may hate the sun, it still rises every morning. and no matter how many houses you occupy, you will never have a home.
this is the curse of fire.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Because of psychology.
even hardened steel rail tracks,
running parallel towards destruction
and destination,
never too close and always careful,
when looked at
in a certain angle,
feet apart,
and eyes half-closed
meet
at the horizon.
running parallel towards destruction
and destination,
never too close and always careful,
when looked at
in a certain angle,
feet apart,
and eyes half-closed
meet
at the horizon.
Sunday, March 22, 2015
happy hours
the darkness,
which calls itself
the keeper of secrets,
is
a wandering soul;
needs
no welcome
nor goodbyes.
a man
who believes
every poem
is
about him,
needs
no love,
nor sadness.
between a rock and a star
i'm walking through streets
that were graced by your laughter,
and turning pages of a book
that you have read first.
i have to choose
between the darkness and the night,
knowing only one is your friend.
i fight for your attention,
but cannot bear the heat of it,
like the firefly
that deems the journey towards the light,
sad and glorious, righteous and deserving.
when everyone hails their king,
their god, and father,
the ruler of the universe,
fire at your fingertips, angry eyes,
murderous lips, shoulders like the mountains
that have welcomed countless lovers,
i shall wait.
when everyone looks to you
for love,
i shall wait.
for i know
the sun never shines for the stars,
i know that dragons are loyal to none,
and the best of poems has no poet.
for i know
the most wanted man in the universe
sees no difference
between those who love,
and those who want to
but know not how.
that were graced by your laughter,
and turning pages of a book
that you have read first.
i have to choose
between the darkness and the night,
knowing only one is your friend.
i fight for your attention,
but cannot bear the heat of it,
like the firefly
that deems the journey towards the light,
sad and glorious, righteous and deserving.
when everyone hails their king,
their god, and father,
the ruler of the universe,
fire at your fingertips, angry eyes,
murderous lips, shoulders like the mountains
that have welcomed countless lovers,
i shall wait.
when everyone looks to you
for love,
i shall wait.
for i know
the sun never shines for the stars,
i know that dragons are loyal to none,
and the best of poems has no poet.
for i know
the most wanted man in the universe
sees no difference
between those who love,
and those who want to
but know not how.
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
lovely lonely
the darkness has fled towards the horizon,
afraid of your wrath, fearful of being discovered.
your anger at the inevitable
leaves them cowering for mercy.
the skies have folded over, to hide from the sun,
the trees bend down
praying to be spared from your despair.
your black eyes, flashing thunder
is what i dreamt of yesterday.
i saw you
as the king of hatred.
the same look on your face
as on that fateful day
when we told each other
what should never be said.
i saw you
as the ruler of fire.
the same desperation in your eyes
as on that forbidden night
when we explored the unknown,
staying awake till twilight
as lonely people do.
your fury will burn down our world,
a far better plight
than my love that will destroy our souls.
afraid of your wrath, fearful of being discovered.
your anger at the inevitable
leaves them cowering for mercy.
the skies have folded over, to hide from the sun,
the trees bend down
praying to be spared from your despair.
your black eyes, flashing thunder
is what i dreamt of yesterday.
i saw you
as the king of hatred.
the same look on your face
as on that fateful day
when we told each other
what should never be said.
i saw you
as the ruler of fire.
the same desperation in your eyes
as on that forbidden night
when we explored the unknown,
staying awake till twilight
as lonely people do.
your fury will burn down our world,
a far better plight
than my love that will destroy our souls.
do you know who i am?
the wind was merciless
that day,
whipping through my hair,
destroying delicate thoughts
rushing through
to the unavoidable.
the rain beat down on me,
punishing,
knowing i will never agree
but still trying, ceaselessly
to change my mind.
the trees were howling with regret
the streets were lined with unhappiness
the lights flickered with warning
the darkness screamed and cried out.
all trying
to keep me
away from you.
all in vain.
that day,
whipping through my hair,
destroying delicate thoughts
rushing through
to the unavoidable.
the rain beat down on me,
punishing,
knowing i will never agree
but still trying, ceaselessly
to change my mind.
the trees were howling with regret
the streets were lined with unhappiness
the lights flickered with warning
the darkness screamed and cried out.
all trying
to keep me
away from you.
all in vain.
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
Crushed Ice
Fingers slowly exploring
like salt in a wound,
a slightly quicker breath
enough to awaken the beast
bring him crashing down
on the gates of your morality
tearing through them
and forcing his way through,
into your soul.
and once there, he sits
quiet and biding his time,
waiting to surrender.
waiting to surrender
to the slightest touch
waiting to surrender
when your fingers
trace invisible lines of fire
on my back
waiting to surrender
at that moment
when the winds of your ecstasy
blows through the trees of my strength.
like salt in a wound,
a slightly quicker breath
enough to awaken the beast
bring him crashing down
on the gates of your morality
tearing through them
and forcing his way through,
into your soul.
and once there, he sits
quiet and biding his time,
waiting to surrender.
waiting to surrender
to the slightest touch
waiting to surrender
when your fingers
trace invisible lines of fire
on my back
waiting to surrender
at that moment
when the winds of your ecstasy
blows through the trees of my strength.
Monday, February 16, 2015
bewafa se bhi pyaar hota hai
and at the end of it all,
all it takes
is
one foot
ever so slightly
grazing another.
two pairs of black eyes
daring to look
three minutes
of smoke
four flights of stairs
and all it takes
is
five fingers interlacing
just for a minute
have you ever heard
of
rain
waiting
for
the oceans to empty
to fill them up again?
of fire
waiting
to see
if you like the heat?
all it takes
is
one foot
ever so slightly
grazing another.
two pairs of black eyes
daring to look
three minutes
of smoke
four flights of stairs
and all it takes
is
five fingers interlacing
just for a minute
have you ever heard
of
rain
waiting
for
the oceans to empty
to fill them up again?
of fire
waiting
to see
if you like the heat?
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