forgotten

in anticipated anxiety,
the need to cry. forgotten
alive and awake,
the need to be seen and heard . forgotten
existing, pretending, coaxing, stifling, hiding.
FORGOTTEN.
like a rolling stone I'll walk alongside,
like a vagabond I'll leave you surprised.
a penny for each thought unsaid,
a penny for every memory that fades.
every single penny you earned,
don't forget, that is for every notion I burnt.
in ashes are those memories, those fantasies soot.
every desire famished, every lover moot.
the need to prove yourself myself;
writing in third person. forgotten.

forgotten for what is ever gotten
the desire to make sense. forgotten.

................

I came across this list of cues for poems. I am trying to do all of them.. 

this is one from the list (Write a poem about Forgetting) 

Maybe by the end of the list, I'll be better =)

...

Will it feel like flying with the wind whilst falling off the cliff?

Will teardrops flying off my face, fall back on me as raindrops instead?

...

this heart is a slut, and a bad one at that, falls for every man who knocked on her doors.
they mess her up and go away, she picks the change they throw at her, does a little soul searching a little window shopping and then waits for the next client to walk in; seduce her with intrigue, do her with his charms and leave her with regret.


the heart is a she. the clit a he.
the man in the woman.


she misses her. she has to learn to not do that, let him guide her as of now. 

solitary

I lie awake. sobbing, wasted, half naked. alone. I am not sad, I am alone. very alone.

look up, look around me, look for places where I hide, there is not a single place where I can lie comfortably. Night does not hide anything, the darker it gets, the clearer the bolder the picture emerges.
Who would find me if I am lost? who would make the effort? Would I want you to make the effort? "Why" is the most important question. Why should anyone make an effort to find someone who is lost. This is hypocritical, I am talking of getting lost in full public glare, not hiding it with poetic stances, am noting it out, in prose.

I know for sure, work wont miss me. My phone will not ring even if I leave it alone for months together. The inbox is already full of spam.

Will you shed a tear and say  'she used to be some one I once knew'?

How it would feel to me and to others I see everyday if I were to be lost to the world?
I am already ain't I? 

dig a pit and bury yourself in it.

my dad just wants him to be qualified.
my mom...God knows what she is serious about, except in her obsession with cracking PJs and making my life a long standing one.
and my brother ogles at his 'female' FBfriends.

I may say a lot but I cant. wont. no one will listen. 

i won.

I won’t apologize tonight.

Do I come across as the slut the whore?

Yes I do, I make you walk on that road,

Walk on THAT road, the cemetery of the sins; of guilt.

What hides in there do you notice? What hides in there, do you care?

In there is buried my pride, doused in fire, my identity.

Or is the soil fed the ashes of your ethics?

Do I sound obscene to you tonight?

I do sound distasteful, almost like bad porn.

Do I?

I do, don’t I?

I am no lady with pearls, I am no lady dressed in silk.

I am no lady clad in grace;

Fuck, I am no lady and YOU are no man.

What have you on tonight? What colour are your hands?

Are they crimson again?

Will you colour the sky red again?
Colour it red for it is my colour;

It is my colour yes, colour it red, for it is my blood that drips from your hands.

Wash me with it, for it will wash you off me.

Let me fall silent. For silence is all I have. Silence is where I can hide.

.

There will be the day when I will make peace with peace,
One day there will be no more words, someday I will stash away the swords.

There will be a day when I will stop hoping, stop hoping against hope.

One day this nagging thumping in the chest will cease,

One day I will not miss me, one day I will be complete in my incompleteness.

 Sandpaper my loneliness away.

One day I won’t look for a you in a me.

One day I will stop looking for me.

One day with silence I will elope.

One day, I won’t wake up with a nagging headache.

One day I will sleep.

HIT, HIT HARD.

"don't make me feel worse"

"I am not trying to bash you up or make you feel worse. I though you were better than this. I would rather you mess with some one as a rebound or a fling than than go back to some-one with dignity between your legs. 
No, I don't hate you, you lost respect, don't know if it matters to you though."

I am puzzled as the newborn child; i am troubled at the tide.

It is dusk already; I don’t even have your shadow to grasp onto.

Your footprints on sand blown away by the arid wind…yes, it is the parched desert now.

Not the garden where we once ran; ran wild and free with the horses.

No, nowhere in sight is that bounty, nowhere at all. 

There are no horses, no pigeons.

There are scavengers now, all around me, eagles no butterflies anymore.

Yes, there are carcasses…those of love, of the mere hints of it, of unsaid, un-kept promises.

There is another one, on that distant corner, yes, right there, that corpse is of an unkempt me.

"Did I dream you dreamed about me? 
Were you hare when I was fox? 
Now my foolish boat is leaning 
Broken lovelorn on your rocks, 
For you sing, 'touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow: 
O my heart, o my heart shies from the sorrow' " 
-song to the siren, Tim Buckley.

she keeps running, running, running.

Wading through burnt-cracked-empty earthen ware, past the stained-crumpled bedspread, across the wilted urns, she enshrouded the names etched on the hand painted wall.

She walks, now, with a porcelain guitar.

and you ask her where the music is?

the mayhem

Have you ever seen a bridge?
focus on how the whole thing stands up in tension the long strands as if holding up the whole weight.

Amazing how the asphalt shines under the street light almost a silvery sheen to it, when the cars pass over it. The bark of a tree, the brown and black lines on its surface marking those years and months and days…no, even small plants have those lines in the bark, the rough texture, it is beautiful. The whole place is thriving, there is noise and crowd all around you, and the sea, the sea though is calm, silent, the most overwhelming in the crowd.

.....-----.....

no don't call me when you walk on the streets, face at the empty asphalt streets.

don't wish i was there when there is a pang you feel, don't look for me when it feels too real.

for it is my time now to crawl walk that mile

my time to fall back, to stop the fight. 

it is my time to stand up, falling on my limbs, to break, to fall, to crawl, to crave.

it is me who will stage the farce, it is me who now leads, who fakes. 

it is my time to shine now, 

arise for me, you lowly dust, arise as i shine, shine my brightest when i burst out in flames.

lost and found.

[after eons of silence]


Y :can i say something?

X :yes.

Y: don't loose ur friends because of  strangers' rejections.
    you'll be left with nothing

X: hmm...

Y:you cant turn back if you want to, neither go forward.
   i am concerned for you 'coz you have the tendency of hurting urself unnecessarily.
   but your ego wnt allow me closer, to try and help you at  least  let me listen to you...

X:I'm the hero of the story, don't need to be saved.

[silence]


[almost a day later]


Y: good to see u laughing.

X: there is no other option, is there?

Y: yes there is,ife gives u two fingers to choose.

X: it isn't enough.

Y: anyways I meant it when I said you look good when you laugh.

X: you also said I looked good when I was angry.

Y: you'll look gud to me even if you are drenched in shit and smell like a horse.
   anyways, you should go now.


[silence]

3WW CCVIII

an imminent danger lurked,as she tampered on with her life;

for behind her was a past  engulfed in shrieks. 

entry for HERE

.............

"Between Hope and Fear, Love makes her home." - Raymond Lully.4

"The thoughts are now closing in…I am closing up. Shutting up completely for sure…getting lost again, into oblivion, obscurity locking the doors leaving the key behind and burning the house down. I’ll do that tomorrow, in the morning; yes mornings are great times to start things. To begin things, that are calling for an impending end. Yes, I’ll think more clearly and more surely in the morning.

There is a knock on the door, it is you again.

Why?

Why today of all days?

I’m not pretty today I am ugly, scarred almost insipid.

Why?

Hushed... I feel you close, coming onto me…kissing my scars, all of my pain, my malice. gaining power over me, taking me in as I was never gone, as you were never gone. holding me like I was yours forever. Like there is a power that you can command. Like there was nothing lost, like there was no asking. 
But it hurts to see you see me like this.see me unkempt. 
I feel uglier when I am held in your arms; my abode once, that place is not mine anymore.

I am repulsive, stagnant stuck somewhere, stuck in you.  The mirrors laugh at me, I am the jest. I have thrown them out…I don’t look like I looked in your eyes…I look different. 

You are closer now; I feel all of you…completely. I feel complete…I look for mirrors to capture this moment, no I have thrown them out…I see my reflection in your eyes…again….

The weight suddenly lifts, yet I feel heavy. The morning light hurts my eyes. I can’t think anymore…you’re gone, nothing’s changed. No, I can’t think anymore…

I'll lock the doors, leave the keys and burn the house down. I’ll do it tomorrow for sure. I think. "

not anyone you know.

i have been mulling over this and i think calling myself Vagabond is not exactly right.
Vagabond was a name that struck me and stuck to me due to THIS amazing poem by R.L.Stevenson.
i am in love with the poem and the message.

but of late i think i have become a person who does not live up to life.
someone who is not living up to the promises made to self, to others, pining for, looking for things that seem/are distant, hanging in-between, a Vagabond does not, it marches ahead, is comfortable with the today as much as with the yesterdays and tomorrows. i am not and i chose this.

i am more of a *gullible cynic*, yes i know, a paradox in its own way.
i just do not know myself anymore, do not know anyone who knows me or wants to.
i am just the puddle in the rain, who is special and beautiful only at times.
just like someone you don't know.
just *nOt anyone you know*

the sham

कौड़ियों के दाम बिकते हैं अब,

कौड़ियों में हैं खरीदे जाते ,

धोका है?

हाँ ! जनाब मंज़ूर है ये बी अब हमें;

मजबूरियां नजदीकियों की हैं ,

धोके ही सही;धोके में हैं जीए जाते..

White lies bartered for momentary pleasures

Angelic hymns resonating in the crimson-walled hell.

Glistening faces tainted; 

Eyes moist with fear of farce, gaping, amazed at the reality.

the silhouette lost forever.

forever lost 


can't be too late to say i was so wrong. 

Death stands above me whispering low/i know not what into my ear/of his language all i know is/ there is not a word of fear- Walter Savage Landor

applaud..yes applaud the newest kill.

it fired me up. it gave me the thrills.

i walked over to walk up to again.

i passed by a thousand times.

i hammered in the nails in the coffin and buried my past.

the rust and the worms inside the clayey me; catalyzed by the inability to hold gave way,

gave way and the ghosts returned to haunt the glee.

the damning recluse's existence marred with self-induced misery.

the virgin’s fucked up without the penetration.

raped off of the music...of the dance of the soul.

i laugh at the mirror...i laugh at god's mockery.

the beautiful skin, the smile, the eyes and nothing at all to see.

embracing the corpses of ethics i slayed all my way.

i sign parchments of confessions as i lay there dead.

MY CRIME (?)

am i criminal if try and think for me for a change.
i do not want you . i do not love you. i do not love him either.

but am i a criminal if i care for myself.

but am i a criminal if i care for YOU, as well.

am i a criminal  if i say i care for you but cannot love you.
am i a criminal if i listen to you when you shriek and shout and call me names?
am i a bloody criminal when i say someone is perfect. am i insane?
am i a criminal if i for a change let go?
if i found a little happiness for me beyond you?

am i a criminal if i moved on?

aren't you so bloody selfish when you call me so??

why should i live with the guilt when you go fuck up your life?
why should i feel guilty if i was happy?
why should i not find happiness for myself?

aren't you responsible for yourself?
why am i supposed to take care of you?
did you ever take care of me?
why do you want me to pity you?

why do you loose your dignity in front of me?

why do i feel guilty every time i smile without you?

why do i still want to sit besides you?

why do i still smile with you?

i should die really.

P.S.: a situation when you want to be in a crossroad so that there is a third option left to go. instead of  a single road where you either go up or down, an option to just move sideways.

boundless us...boundless me...

“Freedom is not worth having if it does not include the freedom to make mistakes.” -M.K.Gandhi

let's be wild.

let us get high.

half-walk, half-fall on un-named streets.

asking for directions to a place just because the name seems nice.

eating off the streets only because the vendor passed a smile.

buying stuff because the colours are bright.

are you hurt...I'd give you my shoulders to cry..

fuck the bitch and walk till the sorrow drains out.

 let us stare at every face that mocks us.

every glare rightfully, scathingly returned.
let us take the midnight bus because we do not want to go home tonight.

let us announce our arrival...

let us be the refugees who ruled the worlds.

let's be wild.

the altruist narcissist

I am the fear of the stranger in a new country.
I am the essence of the dictator’s might.
I am the mist of the morning.
I am the silence of the night.
I am the demon inside you.
I am the righteousness of the soul.
I am the pure white space surrounding angels.
I am the putrid black inside of me.
I am the sparkle of the cut-diamond
I am the darkness of the deepest fissure.
I am the sullen child’s last try.
I am the hope in the bride’s eyes.
I am the warmth of the lover’s embrace.
I am the chill of the assassin’s last blow.
I am the bitter-sweet sarcasm of love.
I am the virgin’s first kiss.
I am the elusive enigma.
I am the mystery solved.
I am omnipotent, I am omnipresent.
I am lost, I am no-where.

In life I am.
Death I revel.

an unfitting me...

far away;
a distant land
a distant memory;

around me,
a place unknownan
an unfitting me;

about me,
no one knows
maybe no one will;

for me;
a life to live
and an unguarded will;