straw

a straw
from the bale of hay
drifted
off the bullock cart
enroute my home
how shall i
you tell me how
thatch the roof

astronomical nightmares

darkness all around
cold, damp, soggy surfaces
reach out from every corner
to caress my skin
and flick little bits
of astronomical
loneliness
to daunt,
to taunt,
and to freak me
with their expectation
of perfection.

perfection?
from a symbol of imperfection?
how plausible a thought it could be.

but they try
nevertheless
to control the untamed mind
and steer it - the poor it -
to a land
where sunlight is frozen
and the whirling winds
are laced with razors
and the rain lashes
torrents of burning lava.

i lie unattended
- not interested in being attended -
in a corner
unafflicted by the onslaught,
blinking deep into the black,
my big toe curls in pain
of insufferable frostbite
and i bite my blue lips,
grind my clattering teeth
to stop this nightmare.
waiting for it to end
even if it takes an eternity.

status quo

scent of summer
lies just under the brow
sliding down
in a bead of perspiration
if i am awake, i must die
if i am dead, already,
let my skin rot
until it smells like
the fragrant night-flowers
enrapturing the streets of New Delhi
after dusk, day after day.
a tiny sliver
of a wisp of smoke
lingers at the corner of my mouth,
anticipating a moist lick
of the tongue
but the aftertaste of French brandy, say Cognac if you will,
just doesn't let go.
and, thus, I stay...
...status quo

almost human

rasping breath; far away from being human,
laps at my ears, licking flesh away
leaving a burning tingle hard to ignore
the incessantly dripping blood
makes my head spin
and i run across the forest fire bare feet
tender soles cooling under a drizzle
the head on my neck stabilizes
finally
and then the urge arises again
to devour human flesh, so tender and so hard
some bits moist, some bits dry
warm, acrid, metal taste of blood
lingers on my supple, long and thick tongue
as i retreat my fangs and, join the herds again.

soup

the soup is thick, and frothy
it's been simmering for a while now
and the fumes are rising
what have you in it? almost everything plausible
- a pinch of love
- a bunch of laughter
- a dash of memories
- a sprig of hatred
- a couple of bounced checks
- a sprinkling of unopened love letters
- a mix of venom, jealousy, ego and office politics
- and a whole lot of tears
i wipe the tears away as i turn the ladle once more
the soup thickens some more as i grab
whatever i can and throw in
oh, god, tell me it's done now, will you?
how long more do I have to boil
this torturous soup, especially
when i am neck deep in it myself!

a breath of life

just breathe slowly
and you will get by
the torturous moment
will pass like fading
tides in shallow seas
...all you got to do
is to listen to songs
of the birds returning
home after a hard day.

are you home?

just touch my cheeks with the back of your hands
and i will know
you are home
i have been waiting for all of three centuries
for your arrival
and now,
my eyes are finally heavy with sleep
the eyelids are falling earthwards
to clasp the grip
of reality
but don't let that fret you
just cup my face in your hands
and i will know
you are there by my side
nestle my heavy head in your bosom
and sing a song of sweetness
till my heart blooms
till i spread my wings and ruffle my feathers
from the window of my world
i will fly away,
you by my side