In my still eyes..

In my still eyes
Are blurry kodaks of a young child,
In my still eyes
Are long lost friendships and lullabies.
In my still eyes
Are my grand mother’s hands,
In my still eyes
Her salt & pepper head, reflecting a dozen lights.

In my still eyes
Are the swallowed instances of pride,
In my still eyes
Are unfulfilled words of spite.
In my still eyes
Are the dreams that once were me,
In my still eyes
Is all I could ever be.

In my still eyes
Are memories of dismay
In my still eyes
Are footprints of kindness.
In my still eyes
Are the regrets of a past
In my still eyes
Are faces of the future.
In my still eyes
Are fears of solitude
In my still eyes
Are hopes
For a house in the woods.

In my still eyes
Are melodies to unwritten songs.
In my still eyes
Are lilies of milk and wine.
In my still eyes
Are stacks of untouched hay.
In my still eyes
Are flowing whites and some grey.
In my still eyes
Her eyes search mine,
In my still eyes
She still shines bright.

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I’m just a passer by

I’m just a passer by
Through lanes of malady
Through chains of solitude.

Stop to hold the world
Better in my eyes
Small vibrations beneath the wall.
They would stumble
I could fall.

Interpretations of a sonic mind
Never at rest
Grows fond of the singular sofa
Kills what could be dead.

Larger in reflection
Easier to forget
Scars of remembrance,
Pretend to be shackled in words.
Created in a palm,
The water surpassed
Her worthless life’s work.

Vision and wisdom later
They closed where they began
Renewed hopes of wander and love.
I’m just a passer by, I’m just a passer by.

Parabolics

All is one
And one is all
All is hate
And none is love.
So much emotion
But none above the other
There’s ego in passion
And passion in ego.
What you see
Is fancy deception.

Fresh and strong malice
Tossing in my gaze
It burns and drowns into ashes
From ashes it re-awakes.
It’s hating,
Gasping,
In the neon lights.
Lights of smile
Of hope
Of joy
Why, the wonder ?
Such distance
Panic and panorama.

Once,
Twice,
And a third time.
All smells of decay.
Do not know what is dark,
The streets
Or my heart.
Smiling,
And laughing.
Caricatures of sham.
Slicing,
And dicing,
My love for the grim.
Projectiles of pleasure
Run parallel
To the pain.
Across from the light
It stands,
Saved, yet again.

One More Step

One more step
And you’re closer
To life
In a warped form.
You’ll tell them
The stories
Of your glory,
Give them success
To gnaw into.
Even though
There was little celebration inside.

One more step
And you’ll be distant
From this failure
The one which hid another
Alike in it’s sort.
And another one
Claiming success
Yet betrayed profitable thoughts.

One more step from
Under the debris,
Of triumph
Over the unknown.
You are clasped
And released,
Only to be devoured again.

No convincing answers to
What was measured
In those alphabets.
To what did you owe
All the hours away
And into.
Empty promises
Soon filled out the corridor,
Plush rooms,
Filled out with people.
In it, you saw
The furniture of failure.
One more step, you heard.
And you walked.

Sunday Morning

Sunday morning,
I’m glad you came.
Lay low back home now
Chained to this lane.
If you don’t come home,
I’ll go insane.
Sunday morning, 
I’m glad you came.

Glance through the hour-glass,
Tricky specks of grain.
Holding tight the clasp
Of a buttery strain.
Sunday morning,
I’m glad you came.

Take you fishin’ on my boat now
Walk a walk with you.
Twistin’ my ankle
Say carry muffins too.
Sunday morning,
I’m glad it’s you.

Hurry back up hill
Lest you miss the train.
Hand you down your badge keep,
Don’t tell me your name.
Sunday morning,
I’m glad you came.
Sunday morning,
It’s not the same.

Hush Now, Hash Brown

Hush now,
Uncle’s speaking about potholes.
Listen, girl.
Don’t go about your thing.
What’s your business,
But to listen ?

Hush now,
there’s a lesson in progress.
Your questions are bran.
Ideas rule the world,
But they only come from a man.

Hush girl,
Give them silence,
If not a beautiful face.
It’s silly to want everything
Bow down and keep our grace.

Hush now,
There are people with ears.
Don’t give them words to say.
Quiet, girl.
The marks will fade away.

Hush,
Let this gifted life
Sink and drown.
Stay still, go away in peace.
Hush now, hash brown.

Time to let the Chivalry out of the bag, mate !

gargle in grey

When someone offers to pull the chair out for you at a dinner table, the least decent thing to do is, sit.

Alas ! That was the last reaction I had when someone did the same to me. It was like he slapped my face with molten lava and then aired me through it. Yes, I get uncomfortable when men go out of their way to make me feel, erm, for the lack of a better word, delicate. Not that I do weights in the gym every alternate day. But for some reason, I could never conform to these ghostly rituals handed down to us.

The incident at hand is where I went frolicking about to a luncheon with a friend(read male friend). As we entered the seating area, the footman swiftly flew behind my back, towards the left and pulled the breadth of a splendid dining chair out. He…

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