universe will not hand it over to you

you need to escape from your solitude

let your shimmering emotions spill into the curb

let your steps direct you towards the yard

watch the thundering jets

the spewing hatred within yourself

needs to be dashed to the ground

let the rain wash it away

changing your status and stature

you can go and rest on that park bench

watch that door being knocked

you have to grab your due from the universe

no one else will be there for you 

"the patterns are not you yet you are the pattern
goodbye is so final but the universe decides for you"

vinyl dreams

Charlotte Gainsbourg, AnOther

lost in the vinyls
she looks out into her past
trapped in the circle of life
she does not not subscribe to sadness
everything can be said but it is never ever done
edges are always raw
one has to scale that
in the mist of the songs in her mind
chimes are curved, scattered and tattered
a mirror reflects the vast step she has taken
no one skirted the issues like she did
holding on to the last straw was never her agenda

vinyl is plastic, undead to environment
jumbled songs play out cheerily loud
bravo for it, bravo for it

crossbow

under the crust of the earth
something explodes
you smile with brittle charm
my fever for you is unbearable
rustle of the willows
scare away the scarecrows
strange it might be
but the piercing breeze does not lie
invisible wind blows you away
I know I should stop that but I do not

my fingers are covered with sheaths
while again something explodes
deep within me

"I know I am the target but don't quite know in what way"

lure of the impure

It Must Be Time For Lunch Now, 1979, by Francesca Woodman 

I long for you
in the fractured  links of my mind
thinking you would fill in the gaps
and mend the holes
wishful thinking on my part
you have been absent for so long

I blocked you out of my heart
fairly easy task
when one has a blockade
I don't believe in the adage
"sometimes you bend,
sometimes you break"

I hold the fork in my palm
clutch pain to myself
my soul burns infernally
with a mirrored effect on my body
I am not so sure of the lure of you
which is so impure

"I might rock, if my eyes stayed open
and I did not feel so drunk"

saunter

silent lilting tresses call out to the artist
for peering into her silhouette
if he could only see the color 
of her sensuous eyes
her exterior is so pleasing
her wholeness is a rich lyric

wild beauty is no alliteration
yet it resounds within him
every pore of his on fire

the artist in him
calls out to lilting the tresses silently
her silhouette is pouring into darkness
eyes so sensuous, color still a puzzle
light reflects her exterior
into a lyric of richness

"mind saunters, heart shimmers, body smoulders
yet the artist in him can only falter for a little while"

mystic voyeur

Summer Night, 1913, by Albert Bloch

once upon a time
on a hot summer night
they were shivering
melting iced statues
cooled the air. 
their ardour did not cool
purple night enhanced it
staring at the tableau
I violated their space
a voyeur in that whorled ground
sky spangled with weird lights
no stars soothing the vastness
tree were akin to the limbs of an octopus, 
tentacles touching everywhere
aura of desire has a strong pull
I hug myself thinking of you

"heat is never far away, 
close your eyes, feel the fire, arctic fire"

confessing ochre is never far away

that slow descent was my undoing
I held your hand
my fingers embracing yours
in the orange haze of my mind
nothing was more beautiful

my spectacles slipped to the ground
crushed under our combined emotions
life's journey lost its meaning
in the ochre sidelines

I despaired to get closer
and closer and closer
that smile was my nemesis
I got lost in the golden light

sold to you, I hoped
to be etched into you
to be crushed in that mind
disintegration of self was so welcome

sounds of hues of orange
still speak to me
even when I am searching for you
essentially to find you by my side

"you never ever disappear
yet I fear, yet I fear
I might clear out
as my mind rests on the fence"

inevitability

image by Zelko Nedic

come, my friend
let us explore the world. 
we can't stay forever
in this dingy place.
can't you see the writing on the wall?

your hood hides your face
I see you swallow a lump
a loved one is no more
gone too soon
we cannot cover that distance

let go of your sorrow
let it be passed on to me
don't stand at that crossroad of living dead

"close your eyes and feel the particles of her presence
they will ensconce you. always"

planted ruminations

with all humility
the plant defied gravity
sprouting upside down
from a crack in the roof
when a plant relishes a spray of water
on its leaves
it sheds the dry feeling
it does claim a calmness
a plant can feel chained to ground
standing at one place
for a long long time
death being a trigger for another place
from that upside down position
it swells with pride
no one will grittle it
a fate deserved only for grounded plants

maybe someday,
it might be sooner than later
it will watch action-laden plant flicks
when it might say rain rain go away

clouded into obscurity

Chilmark Hay, 1951 by Thomas Hart Benton

that horse wants hay
and that clown pushes him away
in those coloured clouds
raindrops sway
when trees turn to be dragons
can the horse be far behind?
elongating his neck
he refuses to move
the mounds interest him
yet the horse talks to the ground
everybody hurts sometimes
be it man or horse

"you take the circular path
I will trudge the river in a straight line"

yellowed with age

Ophelia by Odilion Redon 

here I listen to the silence
lying on that floor
my eyes are closed
my mind open to your every nuance
you bring me flowers
I hold those to me
I am in no mood to inhale the scent
as I am saturated with you
my soul flew to you
as an un-moored kite
you pushed me hard
I fell in a thud on that stretch of ground
where someone had painted the manhole cover, blue

"I will slip into the underground
deep into soulful sleep
you climb every mountain
as high as my sigh"

under the surface

Changla: Photo stolen from Suchismita's FB page!!

is there anybody there

not a trace I see

in the cracks of subliminal temper

such a racket

who hid the strings

where is the spare

buried in the snow

my chest saves the draft

such a temper

what did it latch to?

I stop myself from a refrain

can't anyone see me me blend in

does it not strike to someone

all that waiting might have killed me?

has it really been a decade

in my current state?

"I will come out anytime

hit back hard upside down-

those big stones helping me"

hang me on your door knob

Still Life, 1670, detail by Jean François de Le Motte

that stub
assorted letters
a notebook
pages from a book
a sealed envelope
newspaper cuttings
I see all those
that expression of yours
when writing
or that intense look when reading
strings of the past lay askew
tied neatly in a disreputable thread
photo frame riveted to the wooden wall
why does it stab at my heart
you hung her head
where did you throw her costume
eyeless she doesn't appear wanting
I can see clearly now
the wicked intricacies of your mind

"I do not wish to be a newspaper cut out,
ribboned to your collection"

borrow my eyes, borrow my ears

this face and figure
that you bestowed upon us
we like our stature
fruits, berries, leaves
enhance it
we stand proud in our fruit fortress
fragrances reach out to that child
our berry eyes beckon her
tentatively she touches our moustache
tickling the "royal we"
a little push here
a little shove there
we fall apart in front of her

when little children touch with their grubby hands
(it happened not only in our dreams)
picking fruits, berries, leaves, 
we give up our fickle thoughts
loving the feel of their love in their mouths

"eat as much as you can children,
we are not worried about our disappearance"

dedicated to the dregs in a tea cup

I scraped the container
tasting honey with my finger
sweetness ruled over the sour taste
that sour taste left from the remnants of past
sweet and sour make strange bedfellows
and I almost perished 
I was in love with life, 
mind you, not with you
the road may seem long and winding
but I like to watch the dregs in my tea cup
those cannot tell me my future
but make a nice pattern
someday I will knit a sweater
which will go with my golden heels

"I love my red sunglasses and green shoes
you can have my golden heels in your chest"

writing on a blank wall

stillness chills the grief
but cannot bend the marrow
flowers will still bloom
when you stare out of your window
the massive crocusses sway
akin to the hips of a buxom dancer in a bar
a flower child of bygone era 
now rotting in secret of her mind clatter
when did the colors fade
when did you invade
perhaps, I made a mistake,
perhaps I have forgotten
another day, another place
might set an even pace

I will find my empty hand,
 filled with jagged time, 
(an impossibility you say;
no, not for me, not for me) 

conversing with the fire

when I heard
time to say goodbye
crimson tears flowed freely
no, you cannot see those
they are flowing in the inside
that crunch in my heart
you cannot hear
I don't expect you too
I am compelled to forget
but I know I cannot
when the crimson tears turn clear
I will know I am cleansed

I will burn with the cinders
while you watch from afar
that kindling in your hand
will remind you of your doing
"time to say goodbye"
I whisper to the fire

hidden by shadows

I stand here
half in shadows
my glasses hiding my eyes
the tears stream down
your shadow on my jacket
provides a kind of security blanket
I look so aloof
the boards behind enhance that
do you think
standing at the crossroads
is an easy task?
fetch that inkpot
let me pen my last note
let me raise it for your health

"my watch stopped long time ago"

falling apart

when the sole of my shoe fell apart
I twisted my ankle
my knees gave away
I fell on the ground
my shin bone hurt
my elbows balanced my body
my cheeks pressed to the ground
I give away to tears
why when everything was going good
my shoe fell apart
taking me down
(serves me right)
I will not hitch a ride
I will muster my strength
from the wine I drank
in the late afternoon

"I want to call out, where are you 
but who cares?
I will sleep hugging the earth"

much

it was love at first sight
that's what I thought.
I anticipated much-
river of emotions
to flow in between.

"but he was so enthralled by
friday night football"