The Tragedy Of Thoughts

Thoughts!
Falling on the head
Like fierce raindrops.
Totally unafraid
Like a slinky on the top.

Thoughts!
Travelling to and fro
From molecules to the space.
Taking intricate snapshots
From place to place.

Thoughts!
Waiting to reveal
The stories unearthed.
Like an innocent child
With an unending thirst.

But the master!
He closes all the windows
To shield the child?
And then makes silly innuendos
Keeping those stories mild.
The innocent screams
Become mannered talks.
And the child tamed as a captive.
Well! That’s the way people flock.

Club Silencio

silencio

Up raised the hands
Which was all I could see
The baton was shivering
As if curious to know the key

And then came the clarinet
With its poignant piece
The sax & the trumpet
Elevated the vivid caprice.

The floating notes
Channeled in towards me
As if being sucked in
By the “barren sea”

The lost soul had found the pitch,
As the words started to mould in
Eyes closed, hypnotised
I had totally synced in.

Suddenly a devilish echo filled the room
As the beat abruptly stopped.
And there was the draped horseman hitting again
Shining his double edged sword.

Terrorised, I turned back
And no soul, no podium was in sight.
In their place, lied the endless desert,
Spewing fire like a dragon in plight.

And there was the placard
With something written in blood red.
My feet riveted, soul stupefied,
As my lips read –

“Life is a labyrinth
Everything is a propaganda
‘Cause deep down you know,
No hay banda!”

Inspired by – Franz Kafka & David Lynch.

The Unexpected

The-Unexpected

Caffeine, nicotine and a heavy mind
Took me up towards the skylines.
97 steps climbed in full pleasure.
The breeze was still, but enjoyed in leisure.
The stars seemed to mock the nutcase.
But my rock steady legs left the base.

4th floor passed by and it felt great.
The cool wind was loving me,
And I reciprocated the emotions duly.
3rd floor and a loss of weight.
Thank you God for the beautiful days,
From the quizzing to the musical phase.

2nd floor and the ground was near.
Forgive me mom, Forgive me dad.
For your son was a broken lad.
1st floor and there was no fear.
With an unperturbed guise,
I was about to close my eyes.

But, the ground suddenly ripped apart.
And a galore of creepy snakes took its place,
With shining fangs, ready to leave no trace.
Horror had kissed me like a poisoned dart.
My rock steady legs were moving in a trance.
From the ugly grip of terror, I woke up, still in trance.

Wiping off the sweat, I asked Him
“Of so many minions, Why snakes?”
Came the fitting reply,
“Because it was unexpected.
And it’s the unexpected,
That acts as a drive,
Which keeps one alive.”

My Tattered Shoes

I was given a pair of shoes as a gift.
For me, they were a perfect fit.
A new found happiness for a child unrestrained,
Rejoicing and dancing, as if heavens just rained.

Adorned they were by a few holes in them,
From where the colors of sunshine peeped in.
Uncomely they were for the eyes outside.
But for me, they were nothing less than true pride.

I could walk anyway I wanted
Ebullient, I was the least daunted.
But those shoes, they defied society’s yardstick.
And so I discarded them for a “fancy” pick.

I walked the way I was taught.
Even when I was clearly fraught.
My countenance did betray the thoughts within.
But I was not the one to give in.

Following a toy soldier, I tried to stand undefeated.
Carrying the load I was clearly heat treated.
But never did I lose my sangfroid.
Even when I was awfully annoyed.

But now after all these civilized years,
And all these unperturbed tears,
I yearn for those tattered shoes,
Which aptly taught me the ones and twos.

So when you see my composure wail,
Or when my steps are frigid and frail,
Remind me of my tattered shoes,
And I’ll be dancing and singing the blues.
‘Cause I’m sure I can pay all my dues
When I’m truly in my own tattered shoes.

They Miss You!

image

That big old tree with twisted branches,
Which once held you tight when you swung.
That room of yours where no one passes,
Which saw your first paintings hung.

Those arrogant little squirrels,
Whom you chased on your four.
That aura created by your giggles,
Which used to smile and ask for more.

Those swollen walls with greenish texture,
Which used to shine by your absurd scribblings.
That abandoned corner of the terrace,
Which silently shared your crudest feelings.

Miss you a lot, these innocent things.
Need you a lot, these silent things.
Come back and pay them a visit
Coz sometimes they can do
What people won’t do.

Painting My Canvas

wpid-wp-1435127794744.jpeg

Staring at the blank page of the canvas,
I decide which colors to pick.
Should it be crimson to show rage,
Or blue to say that I’m cosmic?
Should it be white to show purity,
Or yellow to say I’m optimistic?
Should it be orange to show passion,
Or grey to say that I’m psychotic?
Should it be pink to show my feminine side,
Or black because sometimes I’m a dark trick?
Should it be violet to show my enthusiasm,
Or green because it makes me tick?

Well!
Let me get all the colors,
And splatter them at once.
Let’s see what pattern they make!
What person they create!
Coz even if it doesn’t come out right,
I could always say that I ‘tasted’ all the flavors.
And for me,
It will always be –
Spectacular!!!