Mom!

Mom
I dropped quick and easy, like a ball of yarn three decades ago
Your shadow has lingered on me since
Your syllables, your voice, like an old audio cassette on loop
Like my favourite soundtrack.
You are the flying, shining, metal hard armour
Wrapped in a heavenly flesh, that once was my abode.
I’ve never once have had a blank static stretch
Your tape reels have been all along in my frames.
I’ll run blindly towards you, rolling down steep slopes
To tell you something, everything, to unwind.
To who you are what, regardless,
You will always be the lamps of my street dark old town

 

The ‘4:20 Somewhere’ Rarity!

See… I’ll tell you the difference
You are a straight white line
You’re a single snort away from poofing.
While I run in the circles made of infinity
I’m a never ending rarity
No number of pots will ever be enough
To build what’s broken.
I took the morphine with me
When I left from that door,
Your ‘4:20 Somewhere’ rots in my closet

Longing Little Dove!

Longing is not how it used to be
When fantasies are no longer how they used to be
In their place are superfluous memories
Of a life that was far from exemplary
Looking back now only makes it gloomy
Mourning a life that you wished for with the makeshift roomie
The sleepless nights of wanting those keep you awake
No, it’s not work, oh c’mon, for god sake
The one that you remember, yes, the erstwhile
Serve only as a reminder of when life was worthwhile
Longing is not how it used to be
So, little dove, try harder, maybe with a glee
It was a paradox, that didn’t come with a slip of guarantee 

The Closure!

The closure
I think comes to you in a million ways,
Sometimes in ways of the world falling apart
And sometimes with a chance to put it all back together,
There will be baggage, of-course,
But then you’ve aced the art of solo travel darling,
Remind yourself of all the fiercer bulls you have leashed
& shoo this little pup away,
Remember,

You’re not the La La Land,
You’re the Oscar for it!

Supernova!

We have run from clubs to beaches and back,
Drinking poisons from bottles,
Jumping into seasons of deep seas in our clothes,
And making out on the rocks through thunders,
Made promises over wildfires high fiving thunders,
To never make sense,
To hope the odds are in our favor,
And I fell in the supernova of the moment,
Oh the blast,
And the following curl of smoky whirlwind will last forever!

Barcelona Day 1!

Before Barcelona shows you anything, it’ll show you free will!

And love if you ain’t the free will kind, don’t bother flying across oceans, come this far and let the albatross wing size city of liberals disappoint you.

But if you do, let it go!

Mallorca Day 1

Mallorca looks like the school project from above the clouds, the one that we used to orchestrate for historic structures! It’s astounding to witness something so enormous to be so laid back. It’s a wide, wet, lazy island, not the kind that’ll make you yawn but the kind that’ll make you wanna play your life in your head, one more time.The kind that’ll count every breath you take, every move you make, every bond you break, every step you take,’It’ll’ be watching you!!

The Mirror Side! (3)

Living once in a while,

Forget once in a while, are we living at all. As much as of a cake walk it sounds, it’s one mammoth of a task. I guess mostly because now it is a task. ‘Tasks’ in itself is tag that emits exhaustion! Have you ever heard a group of girls saying we have to finish the task of shopping? No right, you see my point.

I have lived by, what I have grown up listening to, from my supremely (sometimes unnecessarily) optimistic mother. “There’s always something”, if my mom was the knight who was saving the princess, she would leave the castle whispering in the dragon ear, don’t worry, it happened for a reason, drop a bandage and leave.

Well, I, on the contrary, would not say such things but maybe leave a bandage behind (mothers DNA). It has been an insane fude between the two minds that walk parallel in my head. The other being my very strong headed, practical father’s DNA, who’d be like slit the dragon’s throat, we don’t have the time for tears.

While I have been between the battle of the sexes, I have fairly managed to pull through my not so perfect life and believe you me, lived it. Legitimately, lived it. I love the fact that I’m alive, I breathe, I can touch, sense, view, comprehend unfathomable beauty and atrocities, all at once and separately.

And that’s a lot for someone who constantly tries to judge, choose reactions rationally and then react, at least to my capacity. The distress and saddening hypocrisies that I come across each day is so consuming, the stereotypical money making flesh we have turned into, for what?

To pay the bill of food we decided to go eat at the fanciest restaurant in the town, while we look into our mails for the next day? To buy a health insurance for 60’s? To die in the most extravagant house with the most exotic funeral dinners or a 14 day lavish get together in case you’re a Hindu (yes, even death ritual is larger than life for us).

Remember talking? Whatever happened to that!

We don’t anymore, like we used to do!

(Part-3)(END).

Push Harder!

It’s funny how we push,
Push harder,
For all the nonsensical things in life,
Things that lead us to nowhere,
Add nothing to us,
How awfully well we realize this,
When we look back,
Laugh, cry, crib, question, & judge
Or not,
Our truths maybe different,
Our journeys maybe too,
But the thing common about our reality is
It’s pragmatic!

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