Bugster ;)

If I walk away,

you scuttle towards me.

If i sidestep you,

you wiggle walk to

the nearest part of me.

If I walk towards you,

you scuttle into me

like greased lightening!

The bigger you are,

the more stupid you behave!

The friskier you are

the more erratic I behave.

Heyyy lil bugster -

Just remember;

ONE well-timed aim

from my Bata chappal

and History will mark you

as part of the archaelogical

findings in my home!!

DAMN YOU to hell

and back

YOU silly little

little silly Cockroach!!

;)))

Split wide open

Up down
Inside out
Outside up
and
Inside down

Is the way
we go around
and round
and around again
this used thing
called
gravity zero
Love Love
Love.

Confused
Conflicted
Slither back up
and feeling
dim witted
I look
right back
just one
more peek
When
I am arrested
by your
look alike
Love
in parts
afflicted
but
on the whole
twisted.

Can i just say
I am taken aback
by the way
you say
you do
do you
Love me,

when honestly
I hate
hate hate
the way
I'm supposed
to love you
Split wide open
in reflecting
your tainted
Love back

back

back.

Cranberry cellophane

Drifting

Silver fog

licking my window pane
in shimmery slithers
recall languid murmers of
cranberry hued cellophane
in liquid crystal symphony

reflecting

jumbled murmurs of a
seductive We
in intangible moments of
melting fiery symmetry.

I remember Us
burnishing
a brilliance of Love
so white
it swallowed;
consumed me
in its blistering bright.

His sea like intensity
enclosing me in shades
of aqua blue luminosity

yet compelling me

into rooms
of strange mediocrity
whenever I tried
to sift through
his need
for a desperate
uncertain profanity.

I am hungry
for my sanity
hellbent on seeking
an inarticulate
reticency

when all of a sudden
i realize
that the funniest thing
he never said

was
just how much

He still loves me.

Proximations of Yes and No

I say Yes
You say No
Here we go
An indifferent So.

Lets face it
We could not face it
When I said No
and you heard ... Go.

We know
what we had known
without knowing
where it could flow.

But...
Its not the same know
I think you think
I know
or the same know
You think I think
I know

And yet we knew
Its a know that
makes a lifetime
of knowing;
a mere second
in a Soul travellor's
existential telling.

Its a know
that had too much
Implosive impulsion;
a short circuit
in spontaneous
self-explosion
in shooting stars
of I you retribution.

Let's just
Just face it.

We could,
could not fake it.
Fake it
and Be.

Any more.

HIDE AND SEEK

Now you See Me; Now You Don't;
You see my reflection
I see your silhouette;
Glanced in; chanced out

We play elemental Hide and Seek
Between Probability and Possibilty;
Distance being the moments
between Us; Spent apart
within we, without we

Through your luminous eyes;
I shall travel the deepest Oceans,
where the tiny fish dart through Ether waves,
And Frolic with the Music of the Underworld;

In your Tender Hands,
My Life will enclose ever so gently,
Like a Lotus flower transcending, petal by petal
Kissed by the Blush of Summer shine;

Under your slightest Glance,
I will find pieces of Me, like misty droplets;
Bubbles of kaleidoscopic translusense,
Magical stirrings from my untravelled Soul;

And when we are done with our Acts of Faith,

I will lead you to where
Emerald Fields languish under an Amber Sun
And Live out our Twilight Summers
amongst a Forever ring of Purple flowers...

Come Love
Find me
Embrace me
Never Let me Go
But how do I find you
when
Now I See you .
Now I Don't.

MOLTEN STIRRINGS

Your Voice lingers,
In an Emerald Sea
of untold Feelings;
Your eyes awakening
scorch bright hues
of silent stirrings,
Timbre whispers;
soft, molten emotions
in purply blue swirlings....

As You run your Hands

through my Landscapes
of Velvet Churnings,
Wrest my gossamer Spirit
From its cool water Spring;
and melt it into paradoxical
Rainbows of Confusion;

I am torn; I struggle to break apart;

From shackles of Conformity
of Inconsequential reality
alternately forgiven and forgotten ;
then Punctuated into Anonimity....

When
All I want; is to
Flit like a humming bird

In depths of motionless symphony
And Whirlpools of sensory shimmery;
Awash in delightful waves of honey chiffon hazy

And

Dissolve in the
Magical Color
Texture of

We.

PAGE; ME

A Page,

blank born
seagull white
A Black Hole
in cosmic strife;

On this Page
is the History of me
a refractive pane
of
transient imagery
Still life in moments
of emphatic fragility;

I flutter
Like Glaze paper,
Transluscent
In my
experiential
shelter;
Surviving its
On slaughter,
with a potent
Interior Filter...

I endure
Hues of the
finest Cartridge,
Metaphors of
sketchy strokes
and
Color ridges,
in the ripples of
Endless
Charcoal Bridges...

And Sometimes,
I am just a
Tired Old Newspaper,
a faded print Cover,
Life span of a day
then thrown away
crumpled
and jangled
in a million disarray;

bits lying
scattered in an
open Rain gutter;

struggling to
ride the wind
above the
Juniper trees
Chatter;

While
a few shreds
float listlessly
In my Mother's Fetter.

PAPER PLANES

Paper planes
NewsPaper planes
What makes you so...alive?

Alive in your newsprint prison
Sensing a world within folded prisms
Your chemistry wants you to glide
But your physics ensures your fall your fall;

A simple Plane boxed into a Square
and then - A diagonal Triangle
Re- folded into a further
half -full plane of smaller planes
a Triangle within a square,
within a quadrilateral parallelogram

In search of a Square plane
a single simple 2-D plane
of a You
and a Me
continuously unravelling

where happiness lies
unfettered and unbelonged
in a origami of Dreams
Forgotten; submerged neutrons
in the backwaters of memories
long long since folded and set free.

QUESTIONABLE MEMORY

What is memory ?

Is it matter or mirage?

What if we remembered every little thing in our lives?
Every nuance, every sinew of a particular moment the way it happened?
We would not be able to forget the ensuing emotion and move on.
But if we forget everything, we have no emotional blueprint to graph our lives...

Caught between Remembrance and forgetting - We humans are tangled up in the web of a particular Design or should I say - the pattern of remembrance... I am not sure which. Why do some memories persist over others, while others just fade away, like smudges of a crayon pencil? You feel only the faded imprint, tucked away in some distant recess of your brain...softly lingering, like the tune of an oft heard song.

But Memory is everything we are, we have been and what we will become...so how did it develop? Plants and animals have a cellular memory but Humans have memory suffused with Emotion. And Emotion makes the difference to the way we remember. It is a Neuron transmitter - a biological system developed so that our thoughts can be connected to our hearts, in order to produce Feelings. And Feelings have the capacity to record a particular memory into intra-cellular documentation. One more silent wave in the river of memories our brains hold. A memory that can be recalled at will or by jolt, by serendipity or association, simulation and assimilation, but never by force...

Sometimes I wonder?
Is Memory a transcendental thing we wished upon a Star a long long time ago?

For... remembering everything, defeats the very purpose of memory.
Your memory bank serves as your personal guideline, your reference to chronicle and track your human time line. As we live, we continuously make memories; they are immediate; they are current; but they are also transient and elastic...some are meant to fade...some are meant to be held onto forever. And your brain subtly decides which memories to hold onto and which you have to let go off. If you have a lesson to learn, you will remember it for as long as you need to.
But forgetting is just as easy, if there is no conscious consciousness to learning. It is just another moment...that has passed into the immediacy, to become the latest addition to the collective Past.

But the funny thing about Memory, is that our Brains use it like a powerful tool to tease us, to fool us, to trick us into believing that something is better or worse than what it actually was...It is the silent seduction by your own senses, leaving you in the swirling vortex of your volcano of remembrance, spewing out and playing with your memories, like lawa eating into your heart and soul.

And so we dance...we dance with the Fireflies of our Memories while we are teased by the seductiveness of Remembering.

All Life is nothing but Memory...
memories of the you's and the me's and the them and the theirs...

And at some point of time,
we realise that the moment we are born,
we make a pact with dying...

You will become a distant memory.
He may become a dim memory.
She is already a beautiful memory.

The acceptance then lies in Me

To comprehend that
I too will become
Just another Memory...

And to Remember
what kind of a memory I would wish to Be
when you think of me
Questioningly...



* The power to forget is only matched by the seductiveness of remembering...

A VERITABLE WORDSWORTH

Words Words Words...
Ever since I remember
My memory is tied in Words...
A symbiotic relationship with the world of words -
Words that fill me up; words that empty me;
good words, kind words, audacious words, ambivalent words;
Words with a point of view, words suffused with every color and hue...

Words that brought me down to my knees
with my palms against the cool dank freeze
like brittle leaves falling helplessly off
the Branches of a lone Eucalyptus Tree...

Words in the throes of an emotional arc asunder
Little by little with the cutting edge of a blender...
Cold words, sharp words, laser words; true
hard, aghast, stormy, cyclical ; drew
Words plunging into broken incomplete sentences,
More Words in gargantuan paragraphic confusions;
untrue, untrue, and untrue...

Words in tandem and words without anthem;
Words without reason yet words within rhyme
words of assumption and words of perception
in axiomatic geometry of a Purple contemplation;

Soft words, straight words, simple words; seen
oblique words, swallowed words, non-linear; unseen
And...
the unspoken words ...the silent alchemy of non-words;
Breathless, indefined, tied up in vacumn sealed packages;
strident, jangling, turbulent, contextual; seen
jagged, cynical, random amoeba grief; unseen

a sigh would be a relief; even a simple hmmmm...
a singular sign even better...maybe a gesture in braille
no sight can still hear sound...
and sound is all or a nothing
Its a nothing nothing no one
and in the nothing
is the dash of my everything
and still...it remains at nothing at all...

It is nothing at all.

FORGOTTEN REMEMBRANCE

Descend onto Sands on Troubled Moons
where the Light of the Universe
Draws a slow, shuddering breath....

Nights Stumble against each other
and Darkness kisses the Stars
Drawing closer to the Black Void Sun
In cadences of Imperfect H a r m o n y....

Where are you my Dark One?

I have run through Yellow hollows in the sky
Clambored upon smoky gusts of Steely Winds
Searched forgotten nether Valleys of Flowers
Swept away by the static crackles of your Solitude

Clutching onto the fading Promise of a Blanket of Dreams...

I am waiting in the wake of your sudden Flight
In a silent communion with the red quicksands of time
I feel your desolate echoes in the sheeting of the Rain
My soul is drenched with a forever sorrow

Til we meet again...

I try to recall your voice,
Feather light, it lingers in my frozen mindcave,
like shooting star darts of memories
hung out to dry

But instead - see only diaphonous Moths and Flames...

God, I remember you.

ATOM MIND

I am just another Poem,
Just another Body of words; thoughts; sentences;
An Unsaid Abyss of Senses tightly shut;
strung up in an indifferent Conundrum ...

I have lived like a Trembling leaf
So inadequately Possessed by You;
Enveloped with a barren esoteric ache
Like the Pallid air of Suspended afternoons...

We are all but Individual Human Atoms
waiting to split the Inky dark Night;
Explode like Sunstars on the Streetwalks of our Minds;
To explore the dazzling Water of Innocence in our Souls...

And So....

I crawl restlessly with In me; with Out me;
A Dust storm spins through the Vortex of my Soul
I Float about in a Thick soup of Nothingness
Like a captive Raindrop on the window Pane;

When ....

Soundlessly,

comes a Hyacinth water Cloud saying

'Hello' softly ; succinctly...

And I hear the Impetuous Drumming of a Distant Summer

All is Still. Unmoving.

All

But

the silken rustle of Irridescent Autumn Trees.

ASTRAL MEETING

I have always known, I think,
Of the Eclipse of our Union;

If we had never met like this,
We would have, in some other Paradigm...

Perhaps You a twinkling Flower,
And I a fluttering Butterfly...
High on a mountain precipice
Under a Silvery Tinkerbell Sky...

I would have never Died,
You would never have grown old...

And We would have danced
A neat Tango
Amongst the myriad Fallen Stars
And chanced along the wings of
a Dark Century
Where Fireflies glow awake to

The Petal Scent
Of You and Me.

EVERYDAY

I cannot explain this Vacumn I feel,
A vacant Cry from deep within,
This sudden growth of Inadequacy
An Emptiness that is so Complete
In the absense of all Sense...

I want to throw myself
Out of these agonising Mind games
So alive and yet so dead;

Slashes of torn words and
Commas of fettered feelings
Dashes of narrow mindedness
and semi-colons of Heart filled moments...

I have to

Live a little
Cry a little
Feel a little
and Die a little more

Everyday...

Before I realise
That I am back where I started.

CHILD-WOMAN MUSINGS

I
fly
float
In a jar of Air
Like a microcosm,
a Vacant
shell with
the cells of
my Ancestors;
and seeds
of my future

many come
many go
as we travel
within us
within others
in this macrocosm

With a white flame
in my sun
and a new Song
in my moon
a child-woman
of the month
of September;

sometimes

I am just
a woman
with
Nothing
in my head.

PAGE; ME

A Page,

blank born
seagull white
A Black Hole
in cosmic strife;

On this Page
is the History of me
a refractive pane
of
transient imagery
Still life in moments
of emphatic fragility;

I flutter
Like Glaze paper,
Transluscent
In my
experiential
shelter;
Surviving its
On slaughter,
with a potent
Interior Filter...

I endure
slews of the
finest heartridge,
Juxtaphors of
sketchy strokes
and
imperfect Color ridges,
in the ripples of
Endless
burning Bridges...

And Sometimes,

I am just a
Tired Old Newspaper,
a faded print Cover,
Life span of a day
then thrown away
crumpled
and jangled
in a million disarray;
the bits lying
scattered in an
open Rain gutter;

struggling to
ride the wind
above the
Juniper trees
Chatter;

While
a few shreds
float listlessly
In my Mother's Fetter.

RHETORICAL DESIGNS

People use
Fountain Pens
Marking
individual Texts
on woody placards
Leaving
envelopes
of Legacy...

People write words
on pages of
snowy parchment
absolving
jigsaws
of experience
into looking glass
pieces of Parody...

People write on Me
Words of Love,
Words of Waste
Words of Wisdom
and
Words of Haste

A Few People Read
Others flick
front to back

And Some People
See
right through
the rhetoric
without ever understanding

The Pages of Me.

TANGLED TAPESTRY

You Start
where I Begin
a Tapestry apart
Tangled within;

We weave sweet moments
in a quicksilver present
A Random hearts lament
in sudden transcendence;

What is this Rhythm
of syncopated Axiom
which nourishes a Need
Between two new Beings;

An embroidery of emotion
cross stitched in recognition
in perfect contemplation
of a Distance in unison;

Symmetry in tandem
Patchworked all of a sudden
We are carefree abandon
making a memory in motion;

consciously unconscious
that
You know
I know

This may be
an End
As soon as
We Begin.