Posted in Originals, Poetry, Reflections

Till When? | Cravings of a Lost Love

Till when is this to go on?
Till when are pretending death?
Till when are we telling ourselves
That what was once the greatest love
We knew, is just another hormone-play.

Till when are we lying to ourselves
That the music has betrayed us mid-way?
When we know it is only taking a pause
And maybe a drop hovers real close
Or a new song awaits a new day

Till when are going to remain invisible
From the skies of my dark nights?
Till when am I going to turn to ignorant friends
For advice about our unknowable madness
For a relationship that’s as complex as it’s simple

Till when will you wait for me to fall weak
To be rescued by another pair of arms
That may not be as strong as yours
But will delude me into thinking so
By being at the right place at the right time

Till when am I fighting this oblivion
When I know in my heart, my gut and my soul
That you are here, always here, and I am never alone
Cradling me in your arms, sucking on my skin
Whispering in my ears, ‘You’re mine!’


Pre-Menstrual Cravings

Posted in Originals, Poetry, Reflections

You know the times | For the stoned mother nature | Stoned Storyteller

You know the times
When she rides the stoned car
On the front seat, staring out the window
Dropping eyes fighting to see it once more
The orange, The sublime blue, The white
Seeing it once more, between the buildings
Through the window of the house with open doors
A blink here A flash there A full view between trees
Breath held in her strained neck, for just one more word.
You know the times
When everything reduces to
A blurred movie running in fast forward
And clear are only the mountains and clouds
The setting sun and its dissolving silhouettes
Looking out for infinity like her life depends on it
That is where she breathes, where her heart beats
Where she heals her hidden wounds Where she creates
Even if the horizon is only a delusion, it keeps her alive and awake.
You know the times
When I remember you
And I cannot decide if you are dead
Or still alive, somewhere, because
I think we have slipped into different cracks of reality
From the same wild waters, where we lived, where we loved
And now even the sun is not on our side but divided
Between you and me. But I continue staring at the crack I entered through, meanwhile
Everything else reduces to blur and I look at the wild waters like my life depended on it.


Early Thursday *compensating the loss*

Posted in Poetry, Reflections

Said A Blade Of Grass | Kahlil Gibran

Said a blade of grass to an autumn leaf, “You make such a noise falling! You scatter all my winter dreams.”

Said the leaf indignant, “Low-born and low-dwelling! Songless, peevish thing! You live not in the upper air and you cannot tell the sound of singing.”

Then the autumn leaf lay down upon the earth and slept. And when spring came she waked again — and she was a blade of grass.

And when it was autumn and her winter sleep was upon her, and above her through all the air the leaves were falling, she muttered to herself, “O these autumn leaves! They make such noise! They scatter all my winter dreams.”


Featuring one of my favorite poems 

Posted in Originals, Poetry, Reflections

Sometimes I love dramatized randomness | Wet mountains and me

Sometimes the sun dances for me on the walls
A dying cigarette wilts out grey snow in dark alleys
Plastered walls store up rains in green mosses
And out blooms a beautiful yellow flower, just for me
Sometimes the clouds embrace me in their windy arms
The street light becomes the spotlight as I dance
A puddle bows down to welcome my splashing feet
And tiny insects fight the rain just to watch me move
Sometimes I dance for nobody and yet for everybody
Out in the streets, all alone but one with the universe
I spread my arms and fill my lungs with breaths of bliss
But all you ever say is I love dramatized randomness



Posted in Originals, Poetry, Reflections

Dissolving bokeh of memories | Going away, so far away

I was looking at you surprised
Like I was looking at a stranger
Who was saying to me that
He was going away, so far away
You held me in your arms
As if protecting me from reality
Or saving yourself the pain of truth
That you were soon going away, so far away
There were no tears or sweating lips
But a heaving chests and a wide eyed stare
Like you were having a panic attack
Why? Why, just before going away, so far away
What were you thinking? Why were you shaking?
You used to tremble at memories of a horrid past
But never shook before mountains you now faced
How horrid was it to you, this going away, so far away?
I could never ask and now I cannot remember either
I cannot remember the pounding heart nor the heaving chest
Where do these memories go? Where are the details?
When you kissed my forehead and went away, so far away
All there is, is a feeling suspended in a dissolving bokeh
Where we touched, is the eye, rest is now a tragic hurricane
And if I do not focus, I run the risk of being destroyed to pieces
Because the truth remains that you have gone away, so far away


Monday Morning Blues

Posted in Originals, Poetry, Reflections

Wait by the ocean, can you? | Stoned Storyteller

When I get stoned
The storyteller wakes up
She tells me all kinds of things
Takes me all kinds of places
Flying with the bees
Or rushing by galaxies
She takes me by the hand
And walks me with a story
Today she brought me to you
Just like that other day, long ago
When I responded with my usual shiver
She held on to me with her eyes of silver

He dived into this ocean
To return with a pearl of love
Worthy of your love, Worthy of my love
Don’t resent, Don’t be hurt
Don’t be afraid, Don’t wet your shirt
If he is delayed and you sit here alone
He is out in deeper waters
In darker murkier waters
Return he will, to you
Wait by the ocean, can you?


Monday Thursday Hues