Cups in the Sky

Living on the rues of shattered cups,

Trembling hands and clumsy trust,

Lashing out at the smallest prudence

In the hope of a never-ending hush…

No cracks or cackle shall disarray

This tryst with hypnosis, we’ve all come to obey.

Where it began, how it grows

A flightless beanstalk or a rabbit hole,

Beyond knowing where it goes…

We all agree to slither in pursuit…

Where boulevards all come to meet,

And twilighted sunset reclaims the weed,

And our stolen thunders collide mid-sky…

Our shattered cups do fly…

Hanging computers, dysfunctional phones,

Isolated captives, distractions alone…

Soul-mates, many, who never yearn to kiss,

A smile, a surprise before we begin to wish…

Nothing falls apart…because everything does,

Nothing has to heal…because everything does.

When the stars do begin to finally fade,

These cups will ascend and take their place…

High up in the sky...

Wondering what we were.

All in a day’s work,

The hearts do heal.

A pat on a back,

And a repaired heel…

And it all reverts

To seemingly unreal.

Only a chosen thunder

Chase our lightning trills...

Status:3/07/2010, 2:35 AM

Shadows encroach me.All my defenses are taut and bold.But the shadows have black feline eyes...that can see where mine fail...in the impenetrable yet hollow Darkness....eyes...that I can't yet perceive.The sequin, godly light from the computer screen illuminates my existence...making me visible to the shadows..shadows encroach me.I am surrounded.Defenseless.But not hopeless...yet!
My heart beats faster than a bullet in mid-air.Pump more blood and maybe it will swell large enough to accommodate this overwhelming fear.Swell! I'm not cowardly.But then what is all this palpitation about? Is it the taste of anticipation on my nerve-endings? Anticipation of what?? The end? Let me look, lift the curtain a little...let me see where the road bends away...forever.
I shall miss the clutches of the shadows in the night.
But it is time...to uncork the bottle of Light.

I Know a Star!

Find her...find her...

The consciousness grows near,

With the distant calling of hawks,

Like a defiant storm in a rain-shadow,

It crafts its way on the rocks…

It glides, it sways, it bends away

Where it fears a crouched stranger

And ricochets off the Himalayan eyes

To remain deep under forever.

Though the floundering eyes

Know all the signs

Of the approaching thunder,

It will not shriek and cower

Inside the stark fault-lines.

Pity in the long run of yards,

You knew so little that you knew her...

She gave you life, she gave you trysts

And you gave in for her...

Stone-headed with hope this time,

Your rhymes all merge to slurs,

They dim away like a frigid star

To die to give respite to a million desires.

They keep awake the consciousness still…

Tip-toeing across the moist grass,

A little girl with a basket in hand

Of morning twinkles and scarlet flowers...

Two lines, that never rhymed

At the age of four...

Two times, the word repeats---

The last time she shone!

I missed you,too.

Mud-pies in the rain

Shall be washed away,

Snowmans in the snow

Shall crystallize alone…

I hear the deranged birds of the sea,

Cooing to the waves to slow down,

To cease in their relentless footfalls,

Where they bury the turtle-nests…

Almost extinct now, like the innocence

That somehow missed me, and I miss it too…

Hello, I missed you…

Was there a night, a slurry diary night,

Polluted sheens in the skies I would cite,

As secrets were still secrets and lies were lies,

When I would miss crouching on the window-sill…

Staring into space in a direction I would feel

Slept my first love…

Yet…I missed you…

There was a girl, who sat next to me

Who spoke with her eyes, but couldn’t cry.

She left her books in a tidy pile, and one day…

I wrote in them my unflinching ‘goodbye’.

We met again, we sat again…

But her eyes never spoke to me,

I missed the page, which she should have missed…

With my ‘sorry’, written on it…

Oh, lonely, drenched evening kites,

Forgotten, tangled and estranged slights…

Home of joys, now homeless by night,

Who will miss them tomorrow?

Sighs. Their quavering, articulate sighs.

That held them afloat all this time.

Sighs. Alone.

And as the rumour goes, mimicking these kites

Time also flies—not in the wind, not with the birds…

But time does know how to fly…

Till the ink runs dry, and sighs expire…

And second chances become extinct too…

Chances that somehow missed me at first,

Hello, I missed you too.

I am walking behind a queue today,

Waiting for my turn…

Patience runs low seldom,

Though man at the counter is slow…

The ride to here was on a one-way road

It was raining, it was rain-washed

I missed a few signals, yet the ride didn’t last…

I missed a few turns; I missed many road-signs,

I missed them all, but time still flies…

Mud-pies in the rain

Shall be washed away…

Snow-mans in the snow

Shall crystallize alone…

Castles in the air
And runaway trains...
Shall always remain...
Frozen and
Brutally extinct.

Your Urchin

I know the Gods are crying this time

For their blessings back,

Promising this wretched urchin a soul,

No fingers crossed in that…

But this urchin just wants to drown

And take the city along,

Smirks and sways in its last raindance,

Laughing its last rain-song…

I am that urchin without a soul

Clawing and feeling my way,

Craving for space between your restless eyes,

Wishing you would look away…

Distance and time fall short with me,

As I chase my conscience,

Distance and time run on stilts

As you chase my confessions…

When the fault-lines around my mind

Give in to rabbit-holes,

You shall fall and disappear

With only what you know…

My laughter will ebb,

So will the tears…

And the rest of my raindrops;

But who shall pray

For this wretched urchin now…

When you’re crying with the Gods?

My Red Bench

Somebody once told me,
The reason is all up there.
Well,God knows where to find me...
I'll just be sleeping on my bench.

It smells of fresh red paint,
Reeks of burnt cigarette memories
Of sitting on it, waiting for someone...
Till I'll give up and fall asleep on my bench.

Birds gather all around me,
Frisky little things they are.
'Used to be so scared of them once too....
Now I let'em wait with me
On my bench.

My bench is old and its rickety...
Its freshly painted but still...
One day, they had to move it
Fate called

Now I sleep on it in my sleepless dreams....

'Cause I'm not sleeping on my bench
Anymore

I never found God,
He found my red bench
Instead...

Growing Fears

I’m finally drifting away…

Into some null kind of place

Of washed-away innocence;

The last shred of hope,

And culmination of doubts,

Fire to the last of my broken fence…

I have no home, I have no sight

Left in me to grind to light,

Despite all I had to begin with…

All that innocence…

I’m in a new place now…

The crazy limbo that I’m in,

That led me into dreaming…

Of my old fears and cravings,

The dreams of endless fallings

From two inch-high sidewalks

Into the death of the dream---

The mellow awakenings…

Just when I was getting used to

The frequent getting-losts

In the next lane

Of my childhood neighborhood…

In the map of my old dreams…

The once-nightmares,that is…

Fears that grew fond of my dreams,

Are leaving me along with the dreams...

Have I forgotten the need to fear

The little dire things of life?

Or am I simply walking, not drifting…

Into the burst of growing up...

For one last time.