Sleeping and waiting
For the moments to pass by
Caught in a time warp
Sometimes I wonder why
Delusional and restless
The mind feels now
Tapered and scattered
The soul is and how!
The mind will wait
For its judgment day
Till then the skies will be
All blue and grey
Brighter and lighter
The world seems now
Sooner or later
I will escape and how!
The sun seems glorious
And dances on my windows
My actions less notorious
And are more left indoors!
Again I am willing to fly
And take that flight
The birds in my sky
Are showing the green light!
When the time comes
I will hop, skip and jump
Till then I will wait
And avoid the bump!
I see a myriad colour
Pumping at the start
The smell of squalor
Leaving my heart!
Smiles spread across
From ear to ear
That leaves my soul
So far from fear!
Gone will be those days
When I will stress
For the angels above
Are finally here to bless!
I will dance till I die
But live to see that wee hour
With a twinkle in my eye
That won’t be sour!
I thank you all
For the good times and bad
But I know the fall
Wasn’t that bad!
So all I can leave
Is happy trails all the way
And let my heart forgive
For you deserve it and so do they!
God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh
~Voltaire~
Been running a marathon,
on this road called life.
Been running for a while now,
yet there was no end in sight.
An invention got on my way once
saw this satellite device.
Wohoo I could see myself from above
but – hey – look – what the heck!
it’s a Möbius strip I was running on
(Inspired by logic behind the Möbius strip 
)
the dilemma
the excitement
the race within the body
the heavy breathless state
the pursuit to be calm
the long yet short ring
the smile as wide as summer
the courage to press the green
the melodic hello
the wait for a sign
the realization dawns
the call missed in time
the smile still remained
the dreamy distant eyes
the voice unheard
the melody resounds
the decisions – whether or not
the dilemma
the excitement
the never ending smiles
all thanks to you
You make me
Dream about you
All the time
Day dreaming
Vivid scenes
Opening my eyes
With a broad smile…
Everything that
You have said
Is all coming back…
In a different light,
Every funny moment spent
Still reverberates a smile…
I wish I could
Drift away
Permanently in my
Real world of dreams,
Away from
This real world
Where I can’t reach you
I can’t feel a thing.
To a place that is unknown
To a place where we can be born
Again
As lovers
As friends
And
As soulmates
There are poems that write,
And there are pizzas that bite
There are songs that sing,
And there are bells that ring
There are dancers that glue,
And there are cats that don’t mew
There are moonlights that swing,
And there are dresses that don’t cling
There are pockets of sunshine,
And there are empty glasses of wine
There are stilettos that break,
And there are eyes that ache
There are broken wings that flap,
And there are hands that don’t tap
There are chairs that creak,
And there are tales which aren’t bleak
There are suns that rise,
And there people who do otherwise
There are woods that crack,
And there heads which need a whack
There are dreams of foggy winter lights,
And there are nightmares of arctic nights
There are dark rubbery lips,
And there are swaying pirate ships
There are men, who epitomise perfection,
And there are some who know the art of seduction
There are donuts that are hard as clay,
And there are wits that hardly weigh
There are eyes that resemble a cool summer breeze
And there are shores that never meet the seas,
There are roses which sting the bee,
And there are women, who cannot be me
Knocking at the door,
in the middle of the night,
at half past four
when i switched off the light
came five little goblins
with red satin caps
a basket full of clanging tins
and strange coloured maps.
I blinked hard twice
and pinched
yet could not believe my eyes
I flinched!
Goblins at my door?!?
It shook me to my core!
And then, the eldest spoke!
With his wiry finger did he poke-
“howdy miss, how do you do?
We’re the goblins of the far north
we’ve come to visit you!”
And so they marched in
right upto the den
all five little goblins
with such confidence!
When I rushed back
they told me to calm
handed me some chocolate
and an ache curing balm!
“We read in the papers
you’ve been a little low
this is not caper
to you, this we shall show
we’re your angels in disguise
here to love, not despise
lovelorn maidens we cure
of this you can be sure”
so they wished me night
off they were out of sight
again I blinked hard twice,
and pinched
I could not believe my eyes,
I flinched!
I sat upon the bed
and did all that they said
I chomped on the chocolate
and rubbed on some balm
have I lost my mind
or is this a joke of some kind??
Suddenly heavy lids overcame me
I flopped on the bed
could not think or see
off to sleep I fell dead!
Dear Elf,
There is something that I have to tell you since last week. I wish we would have sat by that rivulet and seen the purple dusk but I guess our muddy humdrum lives aren’t allowing us to do so. The sky is thick with smoke and the brook has dried, leaving us all high and low at the same time. But it’s ok; for I know that the sun will again rise tomorrow and have a glorious dusk waiting for us. How optimistic, am I not?
You remember, those tiny bottles hanging in your house? Well, I was thinking about them on Sunday evening while having my staple dinner of wine and prawns. I think they are sort of cute. Remind me to take one of them with me next time when I come to visit you but promise me you will not get mad if I break them and hurt myself deliberately.
Those pebbles that hurt me while I was somersaulting in your poppy fields have left tiny scars over my face. Whenever I smile at myself in the mirror, I see tiny dimples dancing on my rosy cheeks. Thanks for pushing me off the cliff; I wouldn’t look this pretty and attractive otherwise.
That sunlight kissed windows weren’t that bad. All you need to do is just shut your eyes and the rays will cease to enter your soul. I guess, sometimes sunshine does burn your life away.
Ah, I forgot to mention that stairway to heaven. Yes, I agree that it did take me to heaven but I guess not for long because the sunbeams killed the glory in my head and had me burning all over in pain. But don’t you worry anymore, for the pain has ceased to exist in my heart and soul. I am as cold and as white as ever. We can climb those stairs again and probably stare at stars together and not face sunbeams all over.
Those chocolate muffins weren’t that bad either. They were a little burnt though. Tell Sandy who runs your bakery to go easy on the oven temperatures next time. Those cute buttercups can be made a little soft and pleasant. I can go and help him next time you decide to bake some blueberry muffins for your grandma.
Oh, do you remember that blue-eyed boy who crossed me in the elevators? Well, he winked at me before leaving. But I don’t want you to get mad at him and give him a black eye because men like him can not go beyond winking. Next time, be calm and tranquil and do exactly as I say for I might tell you to kill him and not just give him a black eye.
Love,
A
Dear Miko,
I suppose you’ll never get the chance to read this, and maybe I will never get to even tell you that inspite of the slight nature of our acquaintance, you have in some strange way touched my heart. I really do not know what first drew me to you, I suppose I have always been attracted to eccentric people and you have been just that, the little that we know of you. I liked that you love to walk, that you are tall and lanky, and a little weird, quiet and withdrawn, maybe shy, and so very proper and polite. You inspired me to read a little more, work a little harder on my English; listen to that extra bit of music, love my Ipod even more, read up a little more on the sixties and the seventies and so on. I loved that you made me listen to Harry Belafonte, Miles and told me about the bands, Bread and Cream. I love The Bread, by the way.
Life on a trip revolves around some very simple things for me. I wish I could tear you away from the humdrum of class, professors and friends and take you to Marine Drive once again to watch the sun set a few more times. I have always thought it a miracle that the sun would set the same time for ever and ever. I want to steal a little bit of that beauty and keep it in my heart. It is like tearing a small piece of bread from a loaf when you are hungry, there maybe many more loaves but this one particular one would always have that one bite off it. I suppose I make little sense.
I had this dream the other night, where we sat side by side facing an “electric blue” river and what seemed like the ruins of Guatemala, and certain specimens of big horned deer who miraculously changed to people right before my eyes. When this happened you just put your arm around my waist and pulled me close and kissed me gently on my cheek and softly said: what a dangerous t-shirt… ! (referring to the people I thought were deer but were actually dressed in some sort of costume possibly) All this was very nice and I felt extraordinarily close to you. For a long time after I woke I shut my mind to the clutter of the outside world and hugged onto my dream like a precious secret till slowly its sensuality began to wane.
I don’t know what this year holds for me, but of all the things that I dearly wish for, I would certainly like to wish to get to know you a little better, spend some more time with you and maybe, even get a chance to call you this – “Miko”.
Love,
A
Dear Homeless Man,
I hope your tap-dancing lessons are going well! I found out today that you have a twin brother, who looks exactly like you. Does he have the same Nike Shoes as you? If so, I think I may always think you are the same person. Sorry for the confusion, no wonder you looked at me like I was the crazy one when I asked you if you ever got a new oar.
I saw you and your brother fighting today. It saddened me deeply – families are the most important people in your life. Perhaps you were fighting over a female? Trust me, that bong woman who yells at people on patios and tries to grab their food is not worth a family feud.
Sure, if she stopped doing the crack and brushed her hair a little she could be pretty. If she ate something she could even be quite lovely but I’m sure there are more ladies for you two to deal with? I thought I’d let you know that that new wave you are doing with your hair? Very Donald-Trumpesque! Dress for success they say!
Kudo! 
Alice
Pungent madness…
Sudden theories of anger…
Recluse of pain…
Inertia in thoughts…
Abrupt pockets of sunshine…
Dark shadows of soul…
Bigotry thoughts…
Screaming lies…
Sardonic laughter…
Derisive tears…
Glimmering smiles…
Soulful afterglow…
Lonely walks…
Sorry cries…
Willful psychosis…
Sparks of fire…
Raging retrospection…
Inherent truth…
Bruised blues…
Sweaty palms…
Anorexic feet…
Panging pain…
Crushed emotions…
Bittersweet moonlight…
Howling hormones…
Haunting melodies…
Crucifying past…
Surreal light…
I looked for it, but I could not find it,
I called for it, but then I quit.
For days and nights I wished for its presence,
and waited in the dark, engulfed in silence.
I tried so hard to let it come,
even turned into a slave, for I could not run.
Why can’t they see that I am a human and must be treated like one too,
I have changed my life, looks, attitude, and still don’t know what to do.
I am no longer who I used to be,
for my heart is scratched and hate is all I can see.
My mind hurts from the pain I have lived with,
my eyes rain harsh tears that plead for death, and I am losing faith.
I begged for them to show me that they at least care,
but their hate, torment, and torture are all they can share.
My heart is bleeding, my mind dissolving, and my soul weeping.
And still, I have not received what I wish for I am still waiting.
My reflection looks back at me brutalized,
for it too has felt the torture of the world through my eyes.
Why is it that I have been chosen by all,
to be scorned, neglected, and wait for death’s call?
My dreams even show me in a terrible state,
for the rest of my life I know I just can’t wait.
My time is running out, and my spirit is dying.
So please, give it to me before I stop trying.
I can’t wait anymore for those around to show me,
that I can be respected, and loved for all to see.
I am human and have a soul,
one that should be loved and cared by all.
It’s more of a brawl with me and the world around. People have come and gone but my idiosyncratic beliefs have always stayed back. With the emergence of my new mental capabilities and observational skills, somewhere life is back to square one. It doesn’t feel good… it doesn’t feel bad… it simply feels anesthetized. Have met quite a lot of people whose claim to fame has been understanding the nuances of my brain… people keep saying they know me and ‘understand’ me but somewhere they are oh so wrong… its nothing to do with the way I am or the way they are… somewhere I feel there is a gaping discrepancy between thoughts and perceptions… I don’t hate them… I don’t love them… I simply pity them… somewhere I hate sitting on the pedestal with the pink champagne twinkling in my crystal goblet… sometimes I wish I was someone they could relate to… probably someone easier to understand… probably someone who could be like them… as time flies away from my glass window, I sit back and laugh at the world around… not because of self righteousness but out of world misery… my penchant for the unusual and the extraordinary fail to arouse me from my gloom as the day somewhere has nothing to hold… the bourgeoisies taper my soul and cling to the fringes of my existence… no matter how hard I try, the feeling of helpless does not evaporate… no matter how much I beg, these iconoclasts refuse to leave the race of life… the hovering continues like an infuriating honeybee… the droning spirals in my ears and seeps into my heart… I wake up from my reverie to find the nauseating drink splattered on my muslin gown… the crystal mingling with my blood and the pain knowing no bounds… I sigh in despondency… throw my head back, not in pain or despair… but out of my sheer will to survive this grotesque world… where there are irate wolves and jackals under a human’s hide… where there are poisonous butterflies who pretend to be breathtakingly beautiful… where the world is nothing but a black coliseum… and look up at the sky to find my guiding light… the light that is the rationale behind my survival… and I see you… smiling… mocking… cajoling… my soul… and I chant my swansong to you till I wait for my forty winks to envelop me forever…
Nimmy gave me the following awards in this post… thanks Nimmy… its because of friends like you that I can be myself and dont have to worry that I will be scrutinized by your judgements…
Thanks once again…
I would like to give the same awards to Su, Nikhil, Manushee, Withering Willow, Chiranjib, Reema, Antara, Cupid, Hope, Amit, Vijay, Vivek and ofcourse to Nimmy as I totally love these bloggers. Somewhere I love the way they write and their attitude towards life. Thanks guys, for making my blogging life so wonderful and accepting me the way I am…
Ps- I am too bored to create links for the rest of the names… sorry guys but please accept ur awards… it would mean a lot to me
So I’ve heard when you’re pregnant you have really strange dreams. I happen to have really strange dreams all the time (and no I’m not perpetually pregnant because that would be more than a little awkward).
For example last night I dreamt that I missed work (as a copywriter!), ran into my boss and her (yes, it was a fat harrowed chick in my dream!) mountain bike and proceeded to explain to her that my key wasn’t working so I couldn’t go to work. We then went on a bike ride out to the Himalayas where she proceeded to cry about some guy and we ate apple muffins with raisins (ugh!)
I used to have a reoccurring dream that I was in a red convertible (with different people in each dream) driving through the mountains. Then the car would either fall off a cliff or a bridge or take a weird turn of unfortunate events and I would wake up being on a rollercoaster.
I’ve dreamt that I was a camp counselor and the kids were trying to light shit on fire all the time. To get them to stop we had to throw ribbons around and braid each others hair. Oh hell! Wait, that was actually a scene in PollyAnna.
I’ve dreamt about pigs that danced (Madagascar style) in the rain dressed as police officers. Under their overcoats (since that’s obviously what dancing pigs wear) they all had knock-off watches they were trying to sell.
The weirdest thing that happens to me by far while I’m sleeping (other then Pistols watching through my window – I’m on to you buddy) is sleep-paralysis. I “wake up” but my body is still asleep. Basically, what happens is that you are totally completely paralyzed but your brain is awake.
Sometimes you even get fun hallucinations, like seeing a man standing at the end of your bed. Of course, you can’t turn on the light because you’re absolutely paralyzed and your brain doesn’t send signals to your body.
Now, it sounds terrifying and mostly it is, but the fun part about it is that a lot of people who get it think they’ve been abducted by aliens, had an out-of-body experience or seen a ghost. So any time I want to make up wild crazy stories about green toothed Martians whisking me away to play bridge and drink swamp water, I have the perfect alibi!
No wonder my dreams are so messed up.
whatever….! I guess it’s the Monday morning blues…!
I take a sip of my cinnamon flavored latte. The sickly sweetness of the syrup offset by the rich bitterness of the dark espresso. Luckily my favorite chair, by the fireplace, is vacant. The ultra-suede still slightly imprinted with the shape of its last occupant. As I remove my gloves and toss my jacket carelessly across one of the arms, I catch the eye of one of the girls at the next table over. She gives me the quick smile of one stranger acknowledging another and continues chatting with her friend.
I tuck my feet up under myself and open my book. The guy beside me is engrossed in a copy of Shantaram. He casually sips his Styrofoam-encased coffee while idly turning a page. With a gust of cold air the door opens and a young girl joins him at his table. Her enthusiasm is a deep contrast to his relaxed demeanor. She tells him of her dance practice for the annual function of her college, her plans for her next years education including a semester abroad and maybe a wild trek in the summer, if she can find an internship first, to pay for all the incidentals. Her speech is peppered with interjections (such as “like”), making it hard to concentrate on the meaning of her sentences.
I smile and think of a recent conversation with a good friend, worrying about her vocabulary. “I need to work on my vernacular,” she laughed, “I mean, I still say “like” and I’m doing my masters in Sociology. Maybe I should enroll in English 0130.”
There’s a man typing away on his laptop, barely audible over the coffee house music, a pacifying blend of piano chords and string instruments. His glasses are neatly folded and placed on a book beside him. Every so often he gets up for a cigarette, for a refill, for a bathroom break. The intensity with which he is concentrating on his screen reminds me of my boss filling his financial reports and I imagine this man is doing the same.
A girl heaves into a chair across the room, sighing loudly as she places her text book down. I recognize her as the girl who made my latte. She works here a few days a week while she’s in University studying chemistry, economics or perhaps philosophy. The free coffee and quiet place to study almost make up for the endless parade of odd people she deals with on a daily basis.
I pull my gloves and jacket on, in preparation for the chill that awaits me outside. It’s not yet that cold though there’s the feeling of a crisp chill in the air. The quiet, brittle cold and lack of clouds almost guarantee the morning will bring the gloominess of a new sorrow. I adjust my jacket and step outside, the soft chords following me as I make my way up the street, back home.
It can only get better” they say tritely
“Next year will be different”
“Things have to start looking up for you”
Every year I go through these bouts. These periods where my mind can’t stop thinking negatively. I want to curl in a ball on my couch and never leave the house. I don’t eat all day or I eat everything I can grab. I feel like crying but my eyes are selfish and hold the tears to themselves.
I wear pajamas from the moment I walk in the door and find excuses not to answer my phone. I watch TV but don’t really see anything. I can’t sleep so I try reading, I try sleeping pills, I try a bath. I try tea, I try writing, I try lying in bed thinking of nothing and everything. I try imagining somewhere hot, and listening to waves on a beach.
I am awake but my mind is confused. How did I end up here? Like this? Lonely, sad, unable to express myself and not understanding what it is that has brought me down so low. Some nights I might go have a drink at my very own Cheers with friends but this is a temporary distraction.
I wander around the museum for hours, wishing I could disappear into the paintings, into the sculptures and be a part of history instead of making my own. I wander around the library even longer – until the librarian announces the imminent closing – picking up books and flipping through the pages.
I read comedic memoirs which remind me all too well how mine would suffer in comparison. I read serious books about war and crimes against humanity. They say misery loves company. I read books about love, about pain, about reality. Sometimes I read a book so densely and intricately worded I have to reread paragraphs three times just to understand what is happening. These are my favorite of all; they take up the most time.
Once the cold goes away, once the grass returns, once the sun again has the starring role and not just a cameo, I’ll be okay. But for now, for now I’ll sit waiting.
