A faded photograph

A memory trapped in time,
actions, words and an emotion.
All there in one entity,
Do you see it too?
one photograph of yours and mine
fading into the rust of time.
The smile which used to be…
has faded into a blank white space
The hug has turned cold
And the kiss is lost.
You can hardly see us,
Only two figures wrapping each other,
moving no further.
Filling a frame beyond your present fame,
It’s not the future,
Coz we have already been there,
It’s not the past, coz it’s still here.
It’s all compiled in one sheet of memory,
You and I fading in a photograph,
clicked by a moment in time…

Who am I?

I am the darkness next to you
I flow in your veins, and embrace your heart.
Light goes through me, so, it never reaches your eye.
I lie, deep under the burden of your desires
Raped and tortured, humiliated and chocked.
Not a word reaches your ear,
All my screams travel inward.

Why?
Is not what I ask today?
Unveiling my mask, look into my eye.
Do you know who am I?
This is me, my identity.
One word defines all that you see.

From you I have come they say,
But does that account for everything you see today?
I might be an extension of you,
But so are you, coming from my wo(mb)...

In Your Arms

I wake up and dream of a life incomplete,
Dying each day to be alive within,
To hide my visage in this masquerade.
Wondering! how life would be in your arms.

I am free from you and you are not me,
revealing our true identity to this endless night.
Lost inside, while our faces smile.
Wondering! how life would be in your arms.

Untangle me of this exile,
Breathe in to me and show me love.
Not a life, years or months; just a moment of us.
Wondering! how life would be in your arms.

Tomorrow will not be today,
and today is not yesterday
It is only us in this time and space,
Wondering! how life would be in your arms.

You are complete and so am I,
Yet, together we achieve incompleteness.
Me and that person you created
Miming the same words in different languages.

The Paperboy

Words form structures,
And people trapped in them,
I see nothing beyond what is shown to me,
I feel something in my head but it’s not me.

I wait on the doorstep for more of it,
Lives waiting to be dead,
This morning would be different, I assume,
No tanks blasting, no buildings going in fume.

What is beautiful and what is not?
What is right and what is wrong?
Just directions,
Leading everyone to their home.

The maze is open at all ends,
Death stares at the prisoner in the eye,
But do you have it in you,
To not know what will become of you?

The Human Chart

I see humans on a chart,
Segregated according to their part(s)
The chain would not last,
without every link in the cast.

Is that the only meaning of existence?
To play your role in the act
being the predator and the prey.

No one runs it yet everyone makes it.
No central power, no conditioning.
We produce to consume,
Each one of our offspring

Power is bought and sold,
The illusion is to be timid and bold.
One second can change years of existence,
One tear can overcome a million smiles.

Why should there be any end to it?
Finite is a human term, for the people within.
But the chart scrolls down to infinite.

A Distorted Life

A pot of water is boiling on the stove,
A green leaf soaked in it.
Have you ever felt the heat of boiling water?
The leaf shrinks into something without a name.
It feels like satans touch or God’s wrath
What’s the difference anyway?
When you look in the bubbles formed by a hundred Celsius
Then the world seems different
Things expand and shrink at the same time,
Words exist and don’t exist in the same rhyme.
A dog left astray, a species domesticated.
Houses of words and parliaments of sentences.
The heat and the powerless utensils
The leaf leaves a smell,
Like a cat with a bell.
You can find your way back to it,
But you can never see what was never there.

A broken Stallion

We found us in the sheds of the black city,
The battle was never fought,
Addiction was the only game known to us,
And death was all that we sought.

Sometimes in the morbid stained sheets
Or the murky corners of psychosomatic streets,
We crossed paths like strangers,
But everyone was aware of our common factors.

The birds refused to chirp in our forest,
And daylight was too glorious, to reach our breast.
Such was our destiny,
unknown even to us.

When everything was lost,
We found each other,
in a sub-conscious dilemma.

The photograph shows a smiling face,
Not because we were pleased,
But that’s what you do when asked to
Say cheese.

It was tough but we stuck together,
Fighting the rain and defeating pleasure,
In that bed we found each other.

With the company nothing felt old,
Not even our perpetual cold
Drugs stopped working on us,
As we were already high to the core

And that last race! What a tale it was,
We ran like a dream,
Piercing through our pasts,
towards a reality unreal before.

Rivers of my country

Water gains life, as it flows down a hill,
I sit by! trying to distinguish one rapid from another.
Have you ever done that?
It’s like telling one face from the other.

The rivers in my country don’t acknowledge the birth of Christ,
They travel from beyond time.
The flow of my rivers cannot be found in the boxes of your calendar,
They flow through me and you can’t even see.

As I sit beside him, she whispers me stories,
a hundred deaths and two ninety nine lives.
She lets me visit his deepest banks,
from creator to the destroyer, everything there lies.

You might hold me guilty for falsehood,
“how can you understand her tongue?
His language is long forgotten”
And I reply with nothing but defiance.

The river is driven by gravity, not your definition of clarity,
I don’t need to invent a language for her,
She is a part of me,
as I am of her.