Irony

We didn’t know each other last year this day.

We remain strangers this year too.

Ice gone dry

A bag full of words were never enough

To fill the lines of my notebook

I need to know the secrets of stifled laughter

The tears that flee at the brush of a hand

The voices that ring with fervour

And the anger that burnt an entire city bare

 

These words I have lack in flesh and blood

I’d like to discard them, but 

Not even the vultures will seek them

I need a device to pump life into them

To drill their reluctant innards 

To scoop their filth and fill them with 

An overflowing light.

Light that is smoky like ice gone dry

So cold, that they burn a hole 

Through the minds that read them.

Order

There is little that survives Time
Long enough to see another day
But with the World so full
The little multiply into fake multitudes
And we believe the order’s never been disturbed

Maybe this was the order- that
Those that die, should die unnoticed
And those that get born
Should never know when to exit with grace
It’s a delusional Time
A morbid World

Face my farce

Battles between you and me

Are the ones I lost

Even before they begun

But I entered the field anyway

And my pride always held my head

My voice rang with determination

Singing in my veins

And I threatened you with

Consequences dire

My words eloquent, I screamed

Like a right wronged

Like a bird caged

Like a life wasted

***

And in such contrived strength

Is my power

I put up my act for me to judge

For me to be convinced; and finally

To believe

And once I have believed this farce

You never stood a chance

You might as well pack your knives

Deserve

You screamed I didn’t deserve you.

My silence I threw at your face;

You didn’t deserve a reply.

Undecided end

It was a bad dream.
Disrupted stasis,
A whirlwind tousling hair;
And underneath a neon glare
She cast shadows around.
Yet they weren’t hers…

Then, the nooses slithered unto her,
Tying knots so intimate.
She prayed for power;
For deliverance.
And heeded, her prayers bestowed
Gargantuan scissors
In place of her feeble hands.

They ate away at the folds
Each knot followed,
Famishing her; satiating the
Hands so giant.
Lighter than ever, she felt
Lesser knots tying her down
To this earthly presence
Of undecided end.

To the remaining knots
She screamed,
‘You shall be undone too…
I shall taste freedom,
I shall die’

Coward

My lips mouthed words of love

Guilt and shame washed over me

I imagined your face and

It wore a cruel smirk

You wondered why I would imagine such

I wondered too

******

Did I ascribe a face to what I

Thought of myself?

Was I a coward who would

Rather be scorned by you than

By myself?

Should I be sorry? Or should I be thickskinned?

Should I move on or should I stay put?