Tag Archives: poet

Cutting Silences.

In that time,

As I cut lines

Of silence on the

Back of your hand

With shards of paper

That bled

Unwritten poetry,

All I could think of

Was the way we trapped

Our passing times

In the space between

Our shaking fingers,

And the way I let

Loose into your nostrils

Powdered forevers

Laced with tremors

From my fading

Fidelity.

In that time

My nose started dripping;

Was it blood, or screams

Painted in technicolor?

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T o n i g h t.

Consider this bar on the

edge of a thousand stars

eternally yours, for t o n i g h t.

 

Dance joyously and whirl around,

on Saturn rings, s p i n n i n g loud,

on the turntable of time, t o n i g h t.

 

In whispers, sing songs of love,

and cosmic desire, fear not for

the eyes and ears, of the void

like forest fire, spread w i d e

across unending horizons,

and a w a y. Under the reds –

the greens- the blues – of

the passing-by Suns, rest

till the end of the record that plays.

 

And when you crash, like Icarus in flight,

and memories melt off your bones

and callously mix with the silt

of drying ocean beds,

let the caress

of those importunate waves,

the shudder of your lives and

the current that runs

[ t h e n and t h e r e ]

[ w h e n and w h e r e ]

through the veins

of your youth remind you

of the bar that was

eternally yours, for t o n i g h t.

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Eid In India, 2017.

A message from the Moon

Was just received,

That this Eid, he will arrive

A little later than believed,

For that silver man is yet confused

About what to do,

If Indian railways can’t be used.

 

I tried to converse with him for a bit,

And question what left him this perturbed,

To allow the sumptuous delights

To be served,

Under an unlit sky,

And to this he very eloquently replied,

 

Sir, this happens to also be

The first Eid,

Where even Allah can’t say with surety

If those that hang on seekhs,

Are carcasses of poultry,

Or the body of an innocent man,

A Muslim, who enjoyed his share of meat,

Being roasted till cooked just right,

while the keepers of our democracy fan

The fire of the tandoor.

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Radiohead, You And Me.

We reminded me

Of Radiohead songs

In the manner with

Which, we swayed

Against the tide of

The several instruments,

Soft and mellow, one

Second, and blaring

Our beings, to each

Other’s naked ears,

In another. Tracing

Words and worlds

That spelled

D E V E S T A T I O N

In oddly placed

Riffs and refrains,

Upon our bare and

Corroded chests

With our chilly, bony

Fingers, making each

Other bleed verses

That could only succeed

As songs of defeat –

In love.

RADIOHEAD_THE+BENDS-57397

Radiohead, Danny Clinch, 1994.

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Onomatopoeia

At breakfast,

you read to me, from your favorite newspaper,
articles about intended duplicity. The World was
quiet for the Dawn to unfold, in its mellifluous
entirety, and the only sounds I could make out, in
my state of hungover reverie, were,

 

your muffled sighs, hmm and ch ch ch, escaping your chapped lips like the whispered whistle of my antique electric-kettle, expressing your discontent with the unlikely turn-of-events that haunt the modern World,

 

your words, de-st-ruc-tion and car-na-ge, carefully let out, each syllable, made love to, uttered with affection and regal gentility, with due care afforded to each of their individual fragilities, like baby birds, unfurling their wings and chasing the dawn for the first time,

 

and, the gentle tapping of your feet, tak.tak.tak, on our concrete floors, like morning dew, falling, leisurely, on dried and withered autumn leaves

 

and, the clatter of your teeth,(it was slightly chilly) a monotonous tone with no ups and down, like the clamor of those thousand pairs of feet, rushing for the first metro, trying to avoid the curse of traffic and imminent banality,

 

and, the crunch of bread under a blunt butter knife and a melted condiment, shining in morning shades of amber, just as in verse and rhythm as the drowsy and cursory pleasantries of children being dragged to school at ungodly hours,

 

and, the rustling of the cheap recycled paper stuck in between your sweaty thumb and index finger, the rustle of leaves from the first gush of the wind that heralds a new Spring every December, and,

the beating of my heart against its bony cage,

nothing but a silent observer.

 

It was then that I decided if you were ever to be

a figure of speech, you, darling, would be Onomatopoeia.

 

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A Pointless Translation – Agar Tum Sath Ho.

Pal bhar thahar jaao
Dil ye sambhal jaaye
Kaise tumhe roka karun
Meri taraf aata har gham phisal jaaye
Aankhon mein tum ko bharun
Bin bole baatein tumse karun
‘gar tum saath ho,
Agar tum saath ho.


Wait for a few more breaths, a moment more,
stay by my side till the sun comes out,
till the World isn't so cold anymore,
stay till the night's long gone,
and my heart has seized his unapologetic thumping against my fragile bones.
How do I make you stay?
Why don't you realise?
When you're gone nothing but trouble abides,
and yet all sorrows slip away, when I have you in my eyes.
we don't talk and yet we say a thousand words,
when you're there with me, when you stand by my side.

Behti rehti. Nahar nadiya si teri duniya mein Meri duniya hai teri chaahaton mein Main dhal jaati hoon teri aadaton mein ‘gar tum saath ho.


I keep flowing like a wave of water,
astray and disheveled,
looking for a rock to finally rest my head upon,
but my rock, the castles I'm meant to ruin,
is in your love and your magical song.
I crumble, deconstitute in your habits and your ways,
when you're there with me, when you stay by my side.


Teri nazron mein hai tere sapne
Tere sapno mein hai naraazi
Mujhe lagta hai ke baatein dil ki
Hoti lafzon ki dhokebaazi
Tum saath ho ya na ho kya fark hai
Bedard thi zindagi bedard hai
Agar tum saath ho
Agar tum saath ho

You dream of me, and in your dreams you see me happy.
But, darling, that's not the way it's meant to be.
To me all that the heart sings,
is but a subtle betrayal,
How does it matter, if you're there or not,
the world was always ruthless and unapologetic, and it'll always be.

Palkein jhapakte hi din ye nikal jaaye
Bethi bethi bhaagi phirun
Meri taraf aata har gham phisal jaaye
Aankhon mein tum ko bharun
Bin bole baatein tumse karun
‘gar tum saath ho
Agar tum saath ho


My eyes, they flutter and the day's long gone,
I sit and run around,
waiting for you to come along, but you don't.
Why don't you realise?
When you're gone, nothing but trouble abides,
and yet all sorrows slip away, when I have you in my eyes.
we don't talk and yet we say a thousand words,
when you're there with me, when you stand by my side.

Teri nazron mein hai tere sapne
Tere sapno mein hai naraazi
Mujhe lagta hai ke baatein dil ki
Hoti lafzon ki dhokebaazi
Tum saath ho ya na ho kya fark hai
Bedard thi zindagi bedard hai


You dream of me, and in your dreams you see me happy.
But, darling, that's not the way it's meant to be.
To me all that the heart says,
is but a subtle betrayal,
How does it matter, if you're there or not,
the world was always ruthless and unapologetic, and it'll always be.
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The number line we were taught not to draw.

All your life you’ve tried to fit in with the cool kids. You want them to recognize you. Tell you you’re one of them. But deep down you know you aren’t. You’re multidimensional. A cool kid one second and a raging storm the other. You’re an angel and Lucifer when you wish to be. You’re eclectic. You’re the habitual Monday Morning and the wild weekend. You’re a glass of wine and shots of tequila. You can’t fit in. You will never. You are the black stroke on a white canvas. You were born to stand out. You are the lone cloud in the sky on a sunny day. You are the beach and the water slide. You are everything you’ve wanted to be. You are manic, depressive and bipolar. You are Eden and a barren land all at once. You inhale constellations and exhale galaxies. You’re colorful. You’re white, black and everything in between. Sometimes as fierce as the Ocean but, you’re also a slow flowing brook. You’re the forbidden forest and the World of OZ. You’re Mars and Saturn too. You burn much like the Sun. You are Bukowski and Wodehouse. You’re a saint and a sinner. You disintegrate into millions of molecules yet, you’re a mountain. Standing tall and high you’re a castle. With your broken dreams and shattered shards, you’re a wooden lodge somewhere in the woods. You’re a 500$ meal and an uneaten BLT.You don’t need to fit in. You were born not to. You’re dynamic. You’re mercury. You’re Sulphur. You are the potassium in their fireworks. You burn on touching. Your flame’s a cool shade of cyan. You’re the Universe, inhaling galaxies and exhaling constellations. You’re infinite in all directions. You’re the number line we were taught not to draw.

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