Skip to main content

Loud Rain

The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
Post a Comment

Saints and sinners

 A clean cloth

Dipped in water

Can remove dirt.

A dirty cloth

Dipped in water,

Can do the same.

They say,

We are what we do to others.

We are good

If we do others good.

We are bad

If we do others bad.

They don't realise that

A dirty cloth

When dipped in water

Can remove dirt.

The clean will become dirty

The dirty will become dirtier.

There will be no difference between the two.

The cloth well used

Cannot remain clean.

It should be dirty.

Then washed.

Dirty.

Then washed.

Dirty.

Then washed.

Until it tears

And has to be thrown away.



Innocent creatures


We bring new creatures into the world

And make them see things they shouldn’t;

A bug squished on a wall

Painted for the first time,

A microwave 

heating until it catches fire,

A man and a woman

Breaking empty bottles on each other's heads

While the creature in the blue cloth

Cries,

Cries,

And cries.

That's the moment it realises 

That no one cares;

That's the moment it realises

Crying is a solitary act.

That’s the moment it realises

The world is not so innocent

And that it should be like the world

To be in it

Alive.



Angel and devil


I sit alone watching the bubbles rise up

In my mug of beer.

Should I do this?

I've not drunk before.

The angel and devil sit on my shoulders

Like in some silly cartoon,

And try to draw me to their sides.

I still sit alone watching the bubbles rise.

Now

There are only few.

Being stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea

Was better;

At least you can swim

As long as your spirit allows,

At least you can die trying.

But being stuck between the angel and the devil

Is pure hell.

There were no more bubbles rising.

The bartender swallows his laugh,

The old man on the other table smiled;

A smile like plastic.

There were no more bubbles rising.

I got up angry

And the mug shattered on the floor.

The devil disappeared and the angel pressed his palms together.

Then I stepped on the glass and cut myself.

Now the devil appeared

And laughed the fire out of his nostrils.

I guess I can’t satisfy just one of them

Ever.





Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I'll tell her

 I want to tell her, But she might be seeing me as a friend. I want to tell her, But what if she doesn't like it. I've always been that dreamy kid Sitting in some corner, On some bench, Ignored, Marked as absent by the teacher. I've always been that dreamy kid Everyone gossips about. No one has come close. No one has the courage To look into my eyes and see the lava Popping bubbles in me. No one has the courage To look at these hanging spikes of ice, Waiting to fall on the young deer with broken legs. But she saw it. She doesn’t feel the heat, But she at least counts the popping bubbles. She doesn’t feel the heat, But she's the only one who wants to. She'll push me downhill And I’ll break a rib or two. But the spikes of ice won’t fall on me. I’ll break a rib or two. But she'll take this young deer home, Wrap him in a blanket And put him near the fireplace. I want to tell her. And I have to tell her, Because she's too smart  To understand what I feel. She too...
Post a Comment
Read more

Magic and logic

 A white horse with wings Can come out of the ocean, Cats afraid of water Can develop a taste for fish, Bats dying on power lines  Still roam around at night. Logic is not enough in this world. Logic is not enough When a rhinoceros chases you through the Savannah. Nature steps in And tells you to run for your life. It doesn’t tell you to wait And make a trap in the sand. Maybe The weird is just what has not become logic yet. But Should we make it logic? Should we really ooze out the magic in everything? We have become Too smart. We have become Too selfish. We have become  Too organised, Too fixed our ways. And we don’t see the magic in anything.
Post a Comment
Read more

Can't death come quick?

 A flower fell off a bouquet, And someone stepped on it. And they all went about with their business. But I can’t help but stare at it; The act of hastening death. Everyone went about their business. But I can’t help but stare at it; The dewless petals, The red colour blackening with the creeping shadow of death, The stalk separated from the head Like with a guillotine. It might have been plucked from it's family, From the other flowers. But it's okay. They'll die as well. It's just that this flower will die faster. But in this world where everything happens in a rush, Can’t death do the same?
2 comments
Read more