Almost Haiku

is playing games with the sun
a losing proposition
but oh! what fun!!

If I could

I would take the night
Wrap it around your shoulders
If I could
I'd watch the stars glint against your skin...
I would take those city lights
That mesmerise
And wind them in your hair
If I could
I would
Take your heartbeat
And make it my song for a while

Dance with you day and night
If I could
Bring your darkness into light I would...

On the cliff edge of his dreams

The little boy
Stands on the edge
And prays
He strays
His thoughts taking wing
With butterflies from off the grass
His laughter swoops
On little wings
His prayers are forgotten
Lost and left behind
In scuffed and broken footprints
And will be covered up
When the grass grows back
On the cliff edge of his dreams

writing on the sand

He’s writing on the sand
waiting for the waves
to rearrange what he says

Song of me

I'm a-feelin like a tin pan alley song,
The words are all right but my music's all wrong.
Every other note tends to slide
My plectrum plays like a gong.
And each f-sharp on my blues harp
Is crying like a pig on a guillotine
And every call for freedom
Is just a silent, wordless scream...

But the words are right,
Oh yeah, they're so right
That I just can't help singing this song
So, tell me true, would any of you
Perhaps - you know - like to sing along?

Love games

I've learnt all the games of love
I've played those games of hate
I've been broken by your words
And felt my whole world quake
I’ve known the joy and ecstasy
Yeah, done all that give and take

For just one kiss,
No more than this
I’ve stopped being rogue and rake
And I don’t know why
A tear or a sigh
Can cause my earth to shake
Even when I know
That love you show
Is just put on, it’s fake

And if there is a lesson I have learned
It’s that
I've been hurt by thirsts that slaked
I've felt every sting and barb
You threw at me, and stayed
I know that love is my disease
I'd burn willingly at your stake
For just one kiss
No more than this
You'd have me on a plate.

Creed

Freedom is a motorcycle on the highway
They say
And I have found it to be true
That when the wind sticks to me like glue
A feeling very like ecstasy
Enters me
And though I do not pray
Nor believe
In idols or Gods
And though I shun
Religion
I do have a faith
I follow a creed
The highway is my home
And a motorcycle on the open road
Will always set me free...

Words

I was lost in the silences
Till words found me
They grew me, raised me, shaped me
The words made me

Reverie

against the
bleak
dark canopy
of night
the stars twinkle
their merriment
and I cannot help
but smile
as i watch
my past
dissolve
into starlight

A little madness

A person needs a little madness, or else they never dare cut the rope and be free.

- Nikos Kazantzakis

Well, well, well.. I know - I've been away for a year, and have broken all my promises to myself. I haven't blogged in a year, and return chastened - hoping I shall make up for lost time.

The truth is, my mind has been swimming in a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts. I finally quit my dead-end job at AOL and got out of Bangalore. I'm much happier to be back in Madras, even though it's ridiculously hot and sweaty.

I bought my self a new bike and stopped driving my car and lo - presto! Freedom!!!!!

I had caught myself in the age-old trap - the symptoms of success - car, bungalow, regular salary, steadiness, boredom, depression.

I kept hoping things would get better. And then, luckily, I shook myself awake and reminded me that nothing was gonna get better unless I forced destiny's hand.

The enemy of freedom is complacence.

So I'm out, unemployed again, and happy once more. Desperately searching for meaning again, for a cause or person to attach myself to until that loses meaning too.

The cycle of life...

I have been travelling, taking long distance trips through South India on my new motorcycle. I've been staying up till 5am, reading books and watching movies.

I've been making love without worrying about what I have to do next, and if I'm going to be late for an appointment.

I've been eating when I'm hungry and drinking when I'm thirsty. No more "three meals a day routine for me!"

I feel like Walt Whitman again, sounding my barbaric yawp out over the roofs of this world.

I am able to cry again at the sight of a raindrop on a leaf of grass, at cloud formation in the sky, feel emotion choking up in me at the sight of a flower, a moment, a beautiful smile...

I am alive again.

The little things matter again.

My voice has, hopefully, returned, and you shall hear it again!