Come.

November 28, 2011 § 2 Comments

Come lie beside me
for now and be my
love.
Let your song
bathe my soul
and kiss my pain.
Let your eyes
stare deeply into mine
and make me lose me.
Let that smile
reassure me of
brighter morrows.
Let your words
give me the much
needed perspective.
Let your silence
make me feel i am
home, again.
Come lie beside me
as before. And be
my friend.

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Untitled-II.

November 27, 2011 § 4 Comments

You ask, my love, what the matter is.
Why do i sound so distant and cold
and harsh and tired.
I am as i sound, i want to speak. But
i can’t. For reasons that are obvious.
Or you are perhaps oblivious of.

I gave you the best part of myself.
And i thought i took some of your’s
too. Until i woke up to reality, that
tore my dreams apart. Dreams of ‘us’.
You know how i’d surrendered to you.
This part of me will never know the
exaltation and the exhilaration of
the love i bear for you.

And yet i am confused, and caught up.
I do not want to walk away, and
i can’t stay any longer. It hurts.
It is MY problem, i always claim. Hoping
you’d understand what i actually mean.

You ask my love what the matter is.
And i can only say, everything is the matter.

Say.

November 26, 2011 § 6 Comments

Say it with Daisies.
Say it with that smile that gets her swooning.
Say it when it rains.
Say it when the time’s right.
Say it looking into her eyes.
Say it while the wind blows into her hair.
Say it with Cummings.
Say it when you’re in love.
Say it, so she doesn’t die guessing.

Conversations with myself-II.

November 24, 2011 § 2 Comments

Nov 15, 6:18 pm.
Sitting at this Monastery, lost.

The observer: Hello AK! What does freedom taste like?
The observed: Huh! I’m physically, mentally, emotionally incapacitated to feel, or perhaps taste it.
The Buddhist: What makes you think i was bound by anything, ever?

The observer: So what happens now?
The observed: I don’t know, the usual perhaps. Going out with friends, chilling, shopping, reading the stock i bought lately.
The Buddhist: Transformation is the word. If the Self does not transform even after looking at real faces, what’s the whole point of living?

The observer: So this phase made you learn a lot it seems wrt people, life and the masks that everyone wears.
The observed: Including the ones that i use as a shield, so i don’t get hurt. Everything makes sense now.
The Buddhist: Some of ’em wear a different one for each person they meet. And by the end of it, they forget who they were altogether. Masked, they avoid their own Selves.

The observer: Uh! Heavy stuff!! Have you been drinking acid lately?
The observed: It’s just another layer. Which gets deeper each time sorrow comes knocking.
The Buddhist: There is always more to a person, than what meets the eye. Either you go on living your shallow life, ignoring it. Or you observe, and pick up from the smallest and the most insignificant things.

The observer: Hmph! What keeps it alive? This side of you, i mean.
The observed: People. Who else?
The Buddhist: I’d be more specific here. It’s only someone close, who can bring out the worst in  you, hurting you beyond your own resistance levels. The best, anyone can.

The observer: You’re soo dead!
The observed: Tell me about it. Couldn’t you ‘observe’ it coming, love?
The Buddhist: And i’ve never felt so alive. It’s all transparent and infinite now. Like blue.
P.S. Strangely, ‘the doer’ vanished sometime in this last one month.
More of that, in another post sometime!

You.

November 22, 2011 § 14 Comments

I cannot be
what you have lost
and you may not be
what i never had.
But still i long
to hold your hand
to walk beside you
on the path less taken.
Because walking beside you
i feel that i am in my place
because dancing beside you
i can truly dance.
Despite and because
of your depth and carefree-ness
despite and because
of your heartbreak face.

Lost.

November 21, 2011 § 2 Comments

Isn’t it better to be
lost than trapped?
Like an island unexplored,
not mapped.

An unknown island could
move and who’d care?
But one that has a marked
place wouldn’t dare.

Untitled.

November 19, 2011 § 6 Comments

Love never dies a natural death.

Either you ignore it, and let it die.
Or you strangulate it, to get over it.

Love never dies a natural death.

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