Dreary- NaPoWriMo-4

Written for the longest bus ride ever taken.



This is how it goes-
In a bus,
Half asleeep
An age on the road
An age to go.
This is how it goes-
Darkish skies,
Layered clouds,
Dreary towns
Leading to
Nothing, nothing.
This is how it goes-
A distant land
A dreary day
Why is dreariness
So damn universal?
This is how it goes-
Aching legs
Soreish eyes
Reluctant smiles
London town
Is far, far, far.
This is how it goes-
Pass the time,
Pass the smile,
Unconsciously, 
This is always how it goes.

Inkpot Monkey - NaPoWriMo 3

I had a rather unfortunate incident at Starbucks. :D



Legends tell
The dread tale
Of a monkey
Living inside
Inkpots.
They rather fancy
The taste of ink.
I don't own
An inkpot
(Why ever not?)
But I suspect
The Inkpot Monkey
Of sucking dry
My pens.
Ink on my skin
Ink on my face
Ink of my scarf
Ink on the poor man
Who sat beside me
In Starbucks today
A pen run dry
And no paper to blame.
Nothing to write,
Nothing to say,
Just a pen run dry
And no paper to blame.
Only an inkpot monkey
Up to his antics again.

Green - NaPoWriMo 2

Directly inspired by my eternal muse- she's been slacking off on the job lately.


I never think about
The color Green
All that much.
I'm more of a
Blues, Blacks, Reds
Kind of person.
But often,
Unobtrusive as you please,
Green sinuously
Seeps,
Bleeds,
Into my vision;
And I remember
Verdant trees
Lush with leaves,
Green.
Nurdan's scarf,
A deepish warmth
Home and love and,
Green.
Comfort and coffee
Stories and Starbucks,
Green.
Rosie's trousers,
Unsual, bright, calming,
Green.
For secrets
And whispers
Spring and Summer,
Green.
Connemara Hills,
Scottish Lochs,
Green.
Your eyes,
Brightly, acidly, joyfully,
Green. 

Country Roads - NaPoWriMo 1

We are hurtling
In a tin can
A tin, tin can
Down a country road.
It's a dark, dark road
And if you slid
Your eyes half mast
We could pretend
We were flying.
If we hit something
On these country roads
It wouldn't end well
And death lingers on corners
That darkly press closer.
But we are alive,
More than ever.
Country roads
Are winding
Dark distances
To infinity.
Your loosely clasped hand
In mine,
I'm flying
On these
Country roads.
I'm praying
For never ending 
Country roads
And I'm flying
With your hand in mine.

Winter Edges

This winter
Has been a rather
Drugged affair,
Honey slow
Molasses thick
And snagging edges,
Catching and cutting.
This winter
I learnt
To flick Kohl
To create wing tips
Honed to razor edges.
This winter
I learnt
About the armories 
Of sharp eyebrows
And the defiant shield
Of jutting Kohl.
This winter
I broke myself
But left my heart in tact.
This winter
I picked up pieces
Of a girl
With hairline cracks
 She denied
All her life
And I broke her
To prove a point.
Then I remade her
With the perenniality
Of sardonic smiles
And perfect Kohl flicks
And recklessness.
This winter
I learnt
To love the winter
In more than just
A blurry, watercoloured way
I loved the winter
In harshness, bitterness
And cruel ice edges.
This winter,
I said, 'Devil may fucking care'
And I meant it.  

Acts of Creation

At first,
There was nothing.
And then came,
Light.
Not unlike
A blank page
Bruised by ink.
We all build worlds
But we all don't live them.
We are too
Authored into being
By the big Author
In the sky.
The one, the only
The Supreme.
This is a whirling dervish
Of existence
And doubts trail
Lives, worlds, universes.
I recreate images
Of the Author.
The one, the only.
I create,
Therefore, I am.
So I am become
An author
With a small 'a'.
Of a small universe
Worshiped, Loved, Adored.
Saved?
Authors need saving too.
Careful preservation
Between the wrinkles
Of a crumbling multiverse
The Author,
Imagined us out of comets
And starshine
So I am exploding
At the pull
Of a blackhole.
I am authoring
Safety valves
To catch my pieces.
Wait a while
To witness the final act.
In the end
(The Beginning?)

It comes down to
Creation
Salvation
Shanti.

Running Away

So here is how we do it. Don’t ask questions, don’t say a word. Just listen to me. You are so good at that. You are the best at that.
This is what we do. We take my car. It isn’t a fancy car. It’s a tiny little turtle, in danger of being upended by a strong gust of wind. But its mine and by that extension, it is yours. So we’ll take our car. Throw our backpacks in the backseat, gun the sweet little engine, hook up the iPod to the aux and take off.

Let’s drive off. Remember, we agreed on the no cell phones rule. Once we get where we are going, we won’t be able to use them anyway. That sounds downright wonderful, doesn’t it? Let’s swallow up miles and roads and worlds and be born again. Let’s start climbing. I am not quite comfortable with mountain driving, but we’ll figure it out together. Fuck this car, WHY IS IT REVERSING, SHIT SHIT SHIT.

Phew. All good now. That was fun, wasn’t it? It was, I can see it in the sardonic roll of your eyes. I could read epics in the sardonic roll of your eyes. I have about 10 seconds before you break and we both are laughing hysterically because we survived that insanity and we have survived so much insanity and sure we weren’t born into rampant poverty and insane odds, but we were born into our brand of struggles and we survived it all and damn this sentence is long.

It smells better up here. It smells like home. I have never loved anything like I love the mountain pines. And unlike everyone else, you’ll let me roll down the car window and you might complain about the cold, but you’ll let me do it because you always let me do stupid stuff because you know the exact limits of me. Gosh darn, we had forgotten what the stars look like so far up, hadn’t we. They are shiny and clear and so, so, so pretty. We park the car at a side and get out and lean back on it and stare and stare and no one can tell us we shouldn’t. Finally some benefits to this ‘grown up’ thing. I was beginning to think there weren’t any. You smile at me and I know you are going to make some asinine yet insightful comment about love. I babble something and drown you out. I don’t want to hear about love. It is what it is, what is the point of talking about love? You let me drown you out, but your eyes are knowing and I can’t face the love they give over. We both are running away. I want us to run away. If I had my way, I would never stop running. Never ever.

But you won’t let me. You allow me insanity, stupidity, arrogance, cruelty and so much more. But you don’t allow me cowardice. So fine. Let’s run away for a little bit. The world below, the insignificant world below us with all those insignificant people doesn’t mean a thing, since you are here with me. But I suppose I will feel differently when we drop down again. Man, don’t you hate the crashes after a particularly good high? No, I am not smoking up, you idiot, why would I smoke up here of all the places? Let’s not think about the crash just yet. I am good at denial, let me teach you.

Let’s us talk about all the things we are not talking about. You love him, I know you do. I know he loves you. But sometimes that isn’t enough. And things get messed up. We are so young, so very young – how on earth do things get so messed up? As for me, you know all about me. I am a wanderer and an only child and I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone but you. Well, I suppose I have and I will, but I don’t think anyone will love me you like you do. I am scared, god damn it. I have never met anyone as deserving of my love as you and that is probably all kinds of unhealthy, but who cares about healthy. I am fucked over in the health lottery either way.

Happy now? We talked about love and we talked about how I run away from myself and how I am so good at it. And this time, I am taking you with me. Because you far too good for this world and I won’t say you are far too good for me but I will say you could have done better on the best friend lottery. So the least I can do is take you with me when I run away.

I wonder when we’ll hit high enough to make it snow? Remember the last time we saw snow together? It was glorious and the snow was better because it made you so happy. I have liked the snow more than ever since then. This could be a typical besties on the road movie. We certainly have the right playlist for it. So let’s sing (more like scream) till there is no air left to scream anymore and we have shattered the total peace of this landscape. There are mountains on every side and a long road ahead of us and we are running away.

It’s good to be alive, Chauhan and it is good to be alive with you. Look at the stars, look at the mountains. Look at the road. I have heard it goes ever on. You coming?