If I am slippers, you are hands for me

If I am slippers, you are hands for me.
If I am a nose-pin, you are like feet.
You're wrong my darling, we aren't meant to be.

If I am ketchup, you'd be khichdi.
If I turn vegetarian, you'd be the meat
If I am slippers, you are hands for me.

If you be a broom, I'd be a clean dormitory.
You're the last person in an empty room I'd greet.
You're wrong my darling, we aren't meant to be.

You might be honey, I ain't your honeybee.
I am a red mark and you're a clean white sheet.
If I am slippers, you are hands for me.

If I am fire, you're definitely not ghee.
If I'm a sweater, you're the scorching summer heat.
You're wrong my darling, we aren't meant to be.

I now suggest, you let this matter be.
I hate it when I have to repeat.
If I am slippers you are hands for me.
You're wrong my darling, we aren't meant to be.

stop

You need to stop forcing me to stay.

You chose to throw your love at me, you,

How do you not expect me to run away?

You have let your hand stray,

Colouring me black, colouring me blue,

How do you expect me to not run away?

You did this to us, you led us astray,

You choked our love, and I am through,

You need to stop forcing me to stay.

Choking my screams of their say,

Looking at my bruises, as if it wasn't you.

How do you not expect me to run away?

This battered love is all a foreplay,

You're waiting for the bloody act, aren't you?

You need to stop forcing me to stay.

You stop hunting for me, I pray.

I'm suffocating, you see, don't you?

You need to stop forcing me to stay!

How do you not expect me to run away?!

You fight (Villanelle)

Doors close on your nose, middle of the night
There's life elsewhere, run.
You wait for nothing, you fight.

Schoolbooks told you honesty is right
They didn't know, they'd had too much of the Sun
That doors close on your nose, middle of the night.

You make a home, you love where there is light
You give your all, but if you get none,
You wait for nothing, you fight.

You look back, you weep if you might
You repeat, "forward is the only way, hon"
You remember:Doors closed on your nose, middle of the night.

Roots scare you all your long life
You write down on a wall: My days of patience are done
You wait for nothing, you fight.

And today, at rock bottom, you gather all your might
You pick yourself up, you look up to none.
You'll wait for nothing, you fight.

Shit Poetry

Under the shade of an Oak tree

with a feeling of no regret

I will show you my shit poetry.

Chasing the sun to reach there early

looking breathtaking in a dress so violet

under the shade of an Oak tree.

Maybe I’ll charge you a small fee

or a puff from your marijuana cigarette

even this shit poetry isn’t for free.

Art deserves time so you better not hurry

your eyes kissing the paper will get wet

under the shade of an Oak tree.

“It’s about me?” you’ll ask in a voice so husky

I’ll roll my eyes and say “you bet’.

There’s a reason why I titled this ‘shit poetry’.

Our love or this poem, what’s more ugly?

If life was a board game, you’d be a chess set.

Under the shade of an Oak tree

I will show you my shit poetry.

Misjudged Time

Time is a great healer they often say

It caused me to beg for death

A great gimmick it is I must say.

Should We be the one's who always pay

For everytime I look back it shudders my breath.

Time is a great healer they often say.

Pain lurks around us every single day

For we stay in this uncanny piece of heath

A great gimmick it is I must say.

All day we hope; all day we pray

And all her grave seeks the wreath

Time is a great healer they often say.

Cold and stiff there she lay

And all they knew that it was an uncanny death

A great gimmick it is I must say

I killed her and I must pay

Its me who burried her in that heath

Time is a great healer they often say

A great gimmick it is I must say.

A Time for Goodbyes

And so it is done. With a tear
We now wish one another well
It's time to say goodbye my dear.

We were strangers who became near,
But now time has broken the spell
And so it is done, with a tear.

Someday, we might miss these years
But tonight, it is hard to tell;
It's time to say goodbye my dear.

It would be futile to linger here
Like a convict fond of her cell;
And so it is done, with a tear.

Let us go ahead without fear  
What matters if one of us fell?      
It's time to say goodbye my dear.

Better to part now in good cheer
Before our silence became hell
And so it is done, with a tear
It's time to say goodbye my dear.

pizza

A Margarita pizza with extra oreganos

That’s the love of my life; I called Dominos and orders the mouth watering margarita.

Do you need extra cheese ma’am? He asked

Extra cheese would be like adding pearl to a plain ring.

The order was completed, I hung up the phone

Now all I had to wait was for 30 minutes.

I was waiting for my pizza like the earth waits for the falling star to rest on it.

Tring tring! My phone rang; it was above 30 minutes by then,

I was ready with my address to take my free pizza,

On the call with a heavy voice he spoke,

Sorry ma’am our server got down so we couldn’t place your order could you please repeat the order.

There I was left like a autumn tree, full of branches but with no single leaf on it, dishearten, broken, speechless and leafless.

If no one hears you

Whisper your secrets in the dead of the night,
Let the wind carry away, everything you hold;

Scream colours in a world of black and white.

When the painted life presents a sore sight,
Pressed on like a paper fold,
Whisper your secrets in the dead of the night.

And if no one sees your timorous fight,
your growing emboldened spirit of gold;
Scream colours in a world of black and white.

Your living will always be a glorious flight,
a tale of error and trial untold;
Whisper your secrets in the dead of the night.

Your languid bones will bear the plight,
to keep in heart the spring tenfold;
Scream colours in a world of black and white.

Time will bring you dark and Time will bring you light,
for one day when you're old,
whisper your secrets in the dead of the night.

Scream colours in a world of black and white.

How to (not) trust

There aren't people left to trust
Giving you a box full of lies
Where the wicked guise as just

In dog days a friend's a must
To shoulder and absorb your cries
For there aren't people left to trust

Sometimes you need a thrust
To see spaces with new eyes
But the wicked still guise as just

Even today my faith is rust
And longs to see blue skies
Are there people left to trust ?

Hopes crushed in sand and dust
Do you not hear their woeful cries
And still, the wicked guise as just

 It isn't easy for people to mistrust
For it requires you to be wise
There aren't people left to trust
Still the wicked guise as just

I’ll Always Choose Nostalgia

Between hometown and the city of dream,

place which makes my eyes dance in glee

nostalgia washes me in a moonlight beam.

Struggling to deal with the city’s dual theme,  

one-sided affairs are something I do not agree;

between hometown and the city of dream.

I mourn that these places cannot be a team,

always longing for the one which I flee;

nostalgia washes me in a moonlight beam.

Hometown is now a luxury voucher, I redeem,

another is where I moved after a lot of plea,

between hometown and the city of dream.

Weighed under indecisiveness, my inside screams,

though the future brings a promise, yet 

nostalgia washes me in a moonlight beam.

I seize yesterday, rejecting the Latin carpe diem,

with a cup of tea, I enjoy the most is memory spree.

Between hometown and the city of dream,

nostalgia washes me in a moonlight beam. 

I breathe

I breathe for your presence
Absence is such a agonizing slow beat
A pang in the pin drop silence

Holding thy hand since adolescence
Devouring the summer peach, fresh and sweet
I breathe for your presence

But the other hand that works earns a pittance
It is mess here, even a garden soil isn't neat
A pang in the pin drop silence

A movement, a quietness spells like riddance
Waking up by window the birds beamed and tweet
I breathe for your presence

Scratching the ink in paperworks for licence
Heaps of gazes and alienation is all I eat
A pang in the pin drop silence

Weary legs, my roots shall sink for balance
Where is spring waters that seeps to calm this heat
I breathe for your presence
A pang in the pin drop silence

Greeting Death as an Old Friend

Hope flickers when you aren't around  

I am pleased with every breath you take away 

Each surface is a burial ground 

Promises once made kept me bound 

Restricting me, forcing to stay 

Hope flickers when you aren't around

Muffled screams try to make a sound 

The knocks from the casket are louder today 

Each surface is a burial ground 

The clocks cannot be wound 

Time has taken the passing subway 

Hope flickers when you aren't around 

Kiss me oh Death! Calm me down!
I have nothing left to say
Each surface is becoming a burial ground. 

A welcome gift, I will wear your thorny crown 

Embracing life one last time, I hope to not overplay 
Hope flickers when you aren't around  

Each surface with you is a burial ground 

A Delicate Darling's Parting Kiss

There should’ve been a word for this 

Yellow nails and bleeding bones

A delicate darling's parting kiss.

A rosy utterance and hushed kiss 

A familiar ache, a doubt well known 

There should have been a word this. 

A blip of consciousness misread for bliss 

An exchange of sighs and lyrical moans 

A delicate darling’s parting kiss. 

A souvenir to trash or to reminisce 

Black outs and blotted milestones

There should’ve been a word for this. 

A brand of whiskey from the Swiss 

Beard burns, stained cheekbones

A delicate darling's parting kiss.

Willful leaps into a hollow abyss 

I might have left earlier if I'd known;

There may not be a word for this 

A delicate darling's parting kiss.