Confessions of a Serial Poet

I’m not a spoken word poet

I’m not 

A performer 
I won’t move you to tears 

I’m just a fluff

That cotton puff that flies by 

Lands in your palms right under ur eyes 
I’m not that guy who fights for the fall of the tall

The one who sings words 

Listens to the voice of faceless souls and goes quiet

When the night falls 
I am not the girl who takes you away

On a journey into unravelling minds

Through flowing lines 

I promise you I won’t tear you down or make you cry 
I’m not worth the sound of snapping fingers

I write words that need to be read

Not out loud but quietly 

When angels have gone to bed
I exist in the darkness

Where you light up your mobile

To know what the world is upto

You find me then 
Sometimes at the crack of dawn

But mostly in the middle of the night 

I am the voice of your demons

And they don’t perform on stages
They lurk backstage 

In shadows 

Until the mic goes on

You start to speak 
The show starts

And I am

Silent.

A love letter

Everytime you open those doors

You ebb and flow like waves

Kissing my mind’s sandy shores

Pulling my words away 
You are my medium

My spirit spelling myself

Outside my heart looking in

A spectator of each of my doom
You are also my Sceptre

A glory otherwise unknown

Scribbled on ageing paper

Regailing folklores of a different time…

“Kindle”d

My black window awaits

So leave me be, my friend

Or perhaps become my enemy

For the stories will hold me afloat

My black window remains

Let me see, my dear

Or maybe you could leave

For the weight of its words will stay

My black window beckons

So you can rest, my love

Don’t nestle on my breast

For it will never leave my heart broken

My black window is full of light

So empty my room, fellow human

I don’t need a love looming

For it will keep my warm at night

My black window hurting my eyes

But I won’t sleep just yet, dear darkness

Its stories and I have just met

For plastic words feel better through watery eyes

My black window is my friend

It’s also my biggest fear, dear shadow

Should I heed what it whispers in my ears

And forever close the door till I reach my bookends? 

L’Étranger

Camus.jpg

What if I were

To not feel pain

What if I were

To not see love

 

Would I have

Lived this life in vain

Would I have

Found the eternal truth

 

What if I were

Deemed insane

What if I were

Incarcerated for the lack of tears

 

Would I have

An afterlife to gain

Would I have

Died a martyr?

 

If I were a stranger

To this unsought fame

If I weren’t a stranger

To the ways of the world

 

Would this noose

Have been my fate

Would this noose

Have meant anything at all?

 

I am now ready

To face the pain

I am now ready

For a thousand guillotines

 

For there is no greater joy

than the beauty in bane

For there is no greater joy

than the embrace of a void…

 

“I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world.”- Albert Camus

On Lazy Vacations

Vacations.jpg

Think small, breathe deep

Wait for joy to rescue me?

 

Sit in silence across a table

Nodding off over crappy fables

 

Listening to the moans of an empty heart

Intensity to a man is just a small sum of parts

 

My soul will select her societies

My faith will live, perched on golden deities

 

Insignificance is dreary

When the mirror tells of it so clearly

 

I have barely been a day

Under the sun’s glare by the bay

 

And yet thoughts of life and death come easy

Like warm and cold in an empty sea breeze

 

Here in a room full of strangers

I find my voice the loudest and in danger

 

This thought

It had to be put down

That smile

It had to be spent

For a heart

Whose love knows no bounds

Hurts when

It is strummed into silence.

Relentless

Never a reality

Always a fleeting thought

She lets her dreams ebb and flow

Through a destiny rust wrought

She walks on embers

Across scintillating skies

Her smile is precious

Even through moist eyes

Did they write this sorrow?

Did they know she will rise

Like a phoenix through the ashes

Did they see her sunrise?

 

 

Perhaps

image

Perhaps love grows
In conversations
Or in smiles
Or in ambiguous persuasions

In my stupid mind
I first fall then rise
Ebbing and flowing in waves
Of dreamy sighs

And then on starry nights
Under the yellow lamp posts
I slowly give in
And abandon my unholy ghosts

The voices are quiet
For now
They await the slow destruction
Of the written word’s flow

They only know darkness
Found shadows
Under bright lights
And never let the night go

Perhaps now in the eternal sunshine
Of a mind sans blemishes
They slowly unravel
And surrender to the heart’s wishes