Tuesday, 8 September 2015

I am bad at haikus. And short-lived happy experiences. I hate common names.



Red ants trembling 
on skin
- of warm bodies






aloe vera mixed with sweat
his scent on my skin
-a breezy hilltop




rain outside the window
drops on the rickety bed
inside.





warmth of the 
textured bedsheet
- a substitute lover











lessons in kissing
through the deep forests 
of your body
- nothing but waste.
As you exploited my space. 






Questions. 








What makes you go silent? You and me on that hill.








3 things you think about the most? one...two...three





What kind of a lover you are? Needy and a Provider. You suck. 
And you have sucked the need out of me. The need to provide anymore. 








He often complained about her not looking back with a parting smile and a 'see you again' smile on her face. By the time she learnt how to do it, there was no one left behind to say bye to.
He was long lost in the woods he came back from.














Kal Nazaara tha lekin yeh aankhein nahi thi.
Aaj aankhein mili, toh nazaara gaya.
- by some big shot shaayar whose name I can't recall right now.




Sex

Films

Past mistakes. And you. Three things. 




These days in this cold weather, every time on a lazy afternoon when I am contemplating life and other mishaps, and the electricity goes off and the wifi stops working, I realize how useless the ceiling fan is. I try to save electricity as my surroundings provide all the warmth that I need to heal myself. And then when the electricity comes back and the fan starts moving again, I turn the regulator to zero. That's what I like to feel sometimes. Zero. But infinitely warm.



















He said he could not sing. Then they both had conversation through dreams and bodies.
It was her turn to ask now. " How do you feel?"
His senses broke into a song by James Brown called ' I feel good'.
She found love in the mad unstoppable laughter. She found love in an honest but yet to be discovered lie.









Poem time. Because Haikus are painful. And short lived. Just like you. 
















I will not attach
The beauty of the weather outside
To my words anymore
All you need to know is that
The ink I am using
Is green on paper.

I take you through the woods
we are leaving a trail of footsteps behind
On the wet laterite soil
And fallen leaves
How we have been/seemed hungry
For the lush, the alive. (this is my favorite line too)

As we walk and listen to
The rain falling on the trees
Protecting us from the white sun
I can smell the scent of jackfruit ripening
From a distance

I can hear
your breathe on my back
The rhythm of the pace
Releasing me of my thousand million knots
I don't know where is this poem going
Just like I don't know where we are.
( hell now I do)
Maybe we need to sit.
And follow the path of this poem
and the road and the white sun
And maybe live our entire journey,
the journey in this small friction of a second.

And now you have became a painful knot.

I wasn't kidding about the Jackfruit though. 




 Also these days, It only rains when Im feeling sad. What relation you have with me rains?
I used to be happy when you poured yourself down on me. Earlier. This year, you have been just laughing at my pain. I miss when you blessed me with your lovely 'paaus'. And your 'kosaa-bosaa'. What happened this time? But since its almost 11:30 in the night and you are happening again over me, I shall dedicate this to you. You make me happy even while mocking me.



Our last poetry together.