WOVEN LABYRINTH

Hummings, rather eerie.
Gaze, perfectly steely.
Complaints, non-sensical.
Ambience, sombre yet comical.
Intentions unintended.
Happiness unsought for.
Unpoetic melodious poets.
Conclusion undecided.

Road: 5m; Path: 2cm

Attempt, diversify. Diversify attempts.

Yet, make it constricted.

Make efforts, widen horizons.

But give me that narrow answer I seek.

I shall grade you, mark you, rank you:

not on how much of the soul you’ve traded;

rather its alignment to the set schema.

For decades now.

Yes.

I shall reinforce you

in every way I can.

So that that little pestering bug in you

loses its path;

and goes down the girth of hopeless recovery.

Still Dealing

Nearly after two epochs of having made an attempt to traverse through blocks (of nature other than those definable on physical terms), you still remain stranded. Stranded not on an island, rather a metropolis. The blocks in question, are rather awkward in their appearance. Those which resurface when you least want them to, hurdling your way forward. Your attempt at getting rid of them wasn’t half-hearted, and you know you could still find a better way, though you have failed terribly, everytime. The only resolution that seems to suffice actually proves you wrong, time and again.

TRACT, FUTILE.

When and why did we arrive to this point? Could this all be just a short phase or a dream from which I can get out of, later if not sooner? How have people learnt to even dwell in the midst of such intoxicated an environment, in turn, becoming toxic themselves?

Cat fights over things I consider bearing adjectives unfar from pettiness.

A second seems too long to wait for, before buds of treacherous emotions bloom into grotesque, poison-spitting flowers after she has left the table.

Assuming the vain pride at the rigidity with which we tend to follow that wretched fad which pleads to fade away and retire at the earliest.

The last time knowledge for curiosity’s sake was pursued, was when I breathed my last; and as humanly ashamed as I can be, I am still biologically alive.

CONSISTENCY, CLOSURE, CURIOSITY, FLEXIBILITY – what was the point I acquired their diction and they got subsumed in my vocabulary, but ‘Avera Kedavra-ed’ from my conscience?

A MODICUM OF TRUTH

Towards the end…

What does one define as the end? As Bo Jack characters have so thoughtfully put out, there’s always a day after the “happily ever after” day. 

Half asleep, and one doesn’t know what to engage one’s inactive soul into. Why would you come running for something, sacrificing your much-needed sleep? Does it give you the satisfaction of being productive? Are you though, really being active? Is all this a pretense? Maybe not. But who cares?

Why do you need someone to care for it to qualify as something worth caring?

CHETNA

Counting the notes,

I ascertain…

It’s rhythm coupled with

my inner sentiments;

that rages fire

within the entire system.

 

Evoking ecstasy –

Fluorescent shades.

Passing out,

Going faint.

My vigour fades

into a known oblivion.

 

There I see my life

passing beneath my eyes

Chetna – that fire rages again

and I pass out.

And this time,

the ashes aren’t grey…

 

-DMH

 

 

ANOTHER FINAL GOODBYE.

Theme grotesque.

Dreams Picturesque.

Yet, I repeat it.

Being unable to conceal it.

And so I pour down

all voices trying to tear me down,

into this impeccable surface;

unlike the realities we often face.

True, he who has to go will go.

Easy to say, don’t miss them.

No, I’m not missing anyone.

But my mind digs and

brings back to me all interactions

we exchanged over conversations.

No tears falling down, I confess.

But beats are louder, breaths a mess.

Go say it’s just a phase; will pass.

Agreed. But neither can I ignore

the memory which is now a carcass.

No, I haven’t lost someone.

I have just stopped knowing someone

whom I never knew.

For the stench of that very carcass

entices scavengers:  resembling memories

to munch on its flesh.

Dear Black.

I understand we haven’t spent much time together and destiny took it upon its hands to not let us stay with each other. Destiny: in the disguise of an unknown devil who stole you from me.

I have never been a lover of folks around me who are at times(read “always”) too mawkish in expressing their love and then publicly crying over when their concept of what inseparable was, gets invalidated.

Regardless, I miss you. It was even before I met you that I was convinced I don’t need Pink anymore in my life. Although we spent a great deal together and I still would say she is my old love. Do I miss her? Probably not. Since our love tenure mutually came to an end. But you? I miss you because there was no mutual parting, no closure. You were snatched from me. I didn’t bid you adieu. I desperately tried to look for you in the entire travel compartment, hoping to just spot you, secretly wishing that you were just hiding from me and not stolen. But when did anyone give anyone a guarantee that all their wishes would come true?

I think of you every time I see someone else possessing what closely resembles you. I envy them. But I still know you were better than them. This incomplete partnership we shared is most likely the reason you will forever remain my favourite footwear. Who knows, maybe for the rest of my life?

LOVINGLY YOURS

YOUR EX-WEARER.

 

 

 

 

CONUNDRUMS.

A boatman travels;
A historian unravels.
One, through water;
The other, by resurfacing matter.
One is looking forward to destination;
The other traces footsteps of a nation.
Mystery lies nonetheless;
In this bout of guesses.
For one, about direction;
The other, RESURRECTION.

ELASTIC.

This, you think, is the last time.

They say it all comes down to your efforts

And not the fruit sublime.

Yet, they gauge, measure and judge

Whether or not you fudge

From that tiniest score.

They preach on, and forth, and more;

Little realising

You’re left to yourself by the shore –

Wondering your fallacies

And inadequacies.

Hypocrisy, they despise.

Oppression, they protest.

Yet the reason I surmise,

When

Thoughtful diversity they detest.

Your entendre is dark humour

Mine, an insensitive innuendo?

Creative liberty you stand by,

But demand command what I think by?

“DON’T GIVE LABELS TO PEOPLE!”, you scream

Yet term me as phobic if at all

My convictions don’t take me in your team?

Perhaps this piece lacks coherence and

Doesn’t make sense to you today.

But nor to me

Does your pretentious flexibility

Stuffed with Rigidity.