Monarch

The monarch flips slowly on the sidewalk with the limp, wheezy struggles of its wings. My three-year-old daughter asks, What's wrong with it? "It's dying." She asks why, and I tell her, "It's that time of year."
I'm surprised when she says, She needs a name. She's dying, Poppie.
"Give her a name," I say. She crunches a twig with her shoe and says, Sydney. "But that's your name." She nods.
We step over the spent butterfly. The leaves whisper under our steps, their final gasp before disappearing beneath the coming snow. Sydney's hand is in mine, and I do not slow my pace for her short stride.

Travelling North

Though you are dead now. Though I walk covered in dust through this strip mall in Iowa. I remember the collection of tendencies that led me here. The flat landscape. The blazing heat of cornfields. The landscape and body are one sensation.

Everywhere the books of atmospheric pressure. This book smells of miracles. That you were the chapter. That I was the slaughter. That sheep, my inheritance. That you were the shepherd who lead me here. Your hand reaching out to strike. Your hand reaching up to brush the hair from your brow. I never knew which. I never knew when. Your hand.

The cornfields are memories. You cannot remember anything. The road is filled with dust haze. Your life is. Your death. I can not find it in this landscape. This collection of tendencies.

Though you are dead now. Though your hand would reach to strike. Though your hand would reach up to brush. The hair from your brow. Though light penetrates this. It is flat. It is frozen in self-image. I must resist the symbiotic wish. I must void the infantile condition. That region. This region. The atmospheric pressure in the vicinity of living.

Though you seemed invincible when your body moved. Though the way your hand. Would reach to your brow. Even though dead. Even though each wave of light penetrates. Even though only seems to slaughter. Sheep of inheritance.

Wake up at 4 a.m. Walk out naked to the porch. Skin shimmering. The way the word porch clings. The creaky swing. Dark lake of the body. What is always erased. The way your hand would reach to your brow and wipe your hair away. And it was always your hair. Always yours. And your face jutted into the landscape. This nowhere. This clicking sound of insects. Late summer.

we are in your quest, in who's quest are you?

O one with the tilted cap,
fitted cup parched open

O beloved seducer,
reflection of who's
endearing ways
...... are you?

You are locked
in my heart,
and my eyes
under your feet.

We're in your quest,
in who's quest
...... are you?

You plunder my soul,
plunder my heart
and mind,
you ascend great heights.
Which bird of desire
...... are you?

Words are sealed
within the lips
of exasperated Khusro.

O sweet voiced parrot,
who's purity of song
...... are you?

Of Love, Hate and Nothing in Particular

I see, I analyse, I decide.All about others. Their lives, relationships, ideals, morals. Then I write stories. Hide the files and let no-one know of them.Then I scream, I accuse, I unfrock unchaste sinners. Then I think of them more, and hate them more.I have for some inherent fear never analysed myself, never pinned up a tag of decision on what I do or say. As a youth atom, I have seen love blossom at every corner down the round road. I have seen them break down right at my doorsteps. The place I live in is, after all, the haven of all heart breakers. I see those who love a new love every half a year, I see those who stick for four long years to look for greener pasture in foreign avenues. I see those who burn themselves in midnight lamp to lie tired as black soot.I see lovers, I see players.I don't realize that somewhere down in those dark galleries lives a me. A me of lies, deceit, hatred and fear. A me who is obsessed with myself, my ideals, me decisions. I hate this analysis part, particularly when it scathes me, scratches me.I have lied, I have also loved. I have lived in a heaven of days to rot in hell for the next eternity to come. I have never really liked myself, never much hated too. But, I shall never be courageous enough to own up and bow down.I don't understand these modern concepts of personal space in relationships. These ideas induced in Indian society by Mr. Farhan Akhtar don't define which part is to be his space, which part her space, and which iota their space.She boozes, she is loose.He fags, he is manly.They date, they are in love.And love encompasses to limits where He says, "Get a life! I am not your dog". Where She says, "You didn't buy me as your slave".I have seen these, never understood these. The haven of heart breakers was where I realized that love must be bounded in singularities.I have seen men and women encompass love in domains of space-time, where honeys moon all weekend at the same place for four years with different keyword. I ask are they too dissatisfied with the term love?I see girls run elope with lovers, and the lovers loving their loves with all their love. How much is that love after a decade? Is it over? Or does it flourish with someone else over some other space and some other form?Till I was about 18 I always knew that love was when two people flung all cliffs to stay together because they had no other motive in life. They loved themselves, and they loved others.All changed with number 18. I saw people hate themselves enough to love. Bubblegum boys and spicegirls. And I saw space. His, Her and an iota of Their. Then I learnt that it was not cool enough to commit, to give and take roses from the same person over years, to explain your little moves, to cry out when overwhelmed, to adhere to the little demands of the other one. I mugged these without understanding. I could not apply them in the examination. Then I realized I was made for love that was before 18 struck.And now I know that love can be loved just once, and forever that once.

Everythin' else''''

stealth silent spinnertwisting on those heels , doppelganger doublers and mimic minutes counting downface down mid spin smiling this catastrophe plummeting gesture at mein the most devious female thread faceted, hair pinned to the sides, eyes beating star burning fade cycle, hands out stretched, and legs in a cross bouncing up and down in an impatiently cinematic way.im pinned to this sheet, palms down, white towel throwing in, grace and giving up, giving in, and given the reverse of glad, counting this mime timer countdown and surreal dwellers ideal townyou can pace angel, but you can only get halfway to not being far enough away from me, you can trace that trail on the paper lead, running back to me but its not even a tenth close enough to being over between you and Iyou’re losing your clothes slowly, touching the floor, because now the carpet craves the cloth.you’re rushing into me, shouting into my heart, aorta and ventricles echoing down my esophagus and swirling around the uvula like a horse shoe on a metal rod spinning gravity ignoring metal copulations i can pretend anytime that i don’t quite see right through youpaper thin skin spy, and angels in a separate sifting song, i can undo your last response to me and pretend you didn’t just make a whisper out of me.hush level semitones rising like bread in a situation bakery, justifiable reasons for seasoning and cut slices as thin as your skin in the sun.you’re still flying at this seam , this seam is still unwinding from me in the middle and im depleting getting smaller, sounding out dampening and quieter every thread that locks out from my handsfabric dexterity twin and a sin screen in my eyes bleeding blueyou cant ever have redone what exactly made you come out loud in my ear, screaming and panting escapist panic breathes like a asphyxiating asthmaticyou can ever have again, that night in the sand, pink moon in the sky, orbital spectator future oracles, eight minutes late worth of light making just enough phosphorous to see you turn awayyou can never have it againbut everything else is yours to haveeverything else is yours to keep forever.

Responsibility..?????

There was once a dude who very wisely said "Man is born free but everywhere he is in shackles". He wasnt very far off when he said that.At a very young age me n my God had a parting of ways. As a kid I looked around and all I could see was people pointing fingers at people because of God. People killing seemingly because of God. All in the name of God? Religious discourse happened at my junior sports meet when classmates formed groups and started pointing out why the other group wouldnt go to heaven. These were 11 year old kids we are talking about here.I cant help but cynically smirk when I hear people talking about a secular utopia where all people come together and live happily ever after. Why?Because from the time we are born we have been conditioned towards a 'Us' and therefore contrasted against a 'Them' . When the end of a penis is cut I am inititated into a clan. My primary identity. When I choose to abstain from a certain type of food my identity is being solidified. How can you then ask me to ignore this identity of mine and adopt some higher obscure identity that is supposed to exist but nobody seems to belong to.I never liked religion much. All it told me was what all that I could not do. I couldnt eat this , I couldnt go there , I couldnt do that. So many rules . All for what? What did it give me in exchange? Hell, whats in it for me? But still people all around me seemed to smitten by it. My family so obviously was far down that track. I was even more confounded when my friends also started goin down that track. Guys who until recently had stood with me asking if there was actually a God suddenly goes Halleluijah on me. I still havent understood why?Sometimes its guys who are branded the social 'unimportants' who join that camp and suddenly they have an importance. They are part of some group socially . They have friends , they have a life. Apparently God has made it all happen.On the other hand sometimes its the popular guy who makes the choice.Nyways sometimes its guys who already have a life who choose to join the 'halo'.Sometimes its just people who have gone through so much shit in one life that they just need something to believe . Something that makes them believe that their's is not enitrely a worthless existence. That they are part of a bigger picture.Sometimes like my gujju friend told me once , everything that can be done is done and we can do no more ,we need insurance. We need to believe that the Big Daddy up there is gonna make things go our way and if they dont then its not our fault cause this was simply not meant to be. .These were the percipible reasons that I found for people to act in an apparent illogical behaviour. Whatever the reasons and whichever camp they joined , one thing common between all of them was the absence of any freedom after they did. They chose their identities and never questioned anything about it. Not a story not a rule.People say that religion is nothing but a set of values. A set of values that one chooses to live by. Although all the basic tenets are supposedly the same I find that the values are different. Since they live by different values its no rocket science to understand that at some points these values may bring them on opposite sides of a river.I imagine a world without any religion to make sure that this situation never comes about. All I got was that if not religion then something else . Nationality perhaps? What I got was that we made religion. If not this we will make something else. We are all born free .Independent minds , free thoughts. However we choose to chain ouselves . To have our decisions made for us. That way if something goes wrong we have somebody else to blame. Responsiblity is more than a word , its a curse.

Fuckin Darkness...........

Darkness plays a beautiful game in our life. As I start my journey back, I am astonished by this game that I see through the tinted glass of a luxury bus. I can see darkness all around which is like a soundless container which we never like because we are always surrounded with some sounds.The dance that light and darkness showed me was more enthralling than any qualified dancer. This was the power of nature. I could see the light shining at one point on the glossy leaves of tall trees and the arrows they form through the myst. The darkness enveloping the leaves once again as a mother to its toddler, so carefully that no part of its curvey edge is left uncovered. The beauty of darkness again is enjoyed when I see a distant light and miss the presence of darkness.The robe of darkness leaves no one untouched. Only light can pass through its deadlock. I wonder what darkness must be thinking? ' How long has light been here. It came into existence from me and would end in me. The sky has always been dark till one incident deterred the calmness under my rule and I shall rule again. I can hear the pain light causes to many lives and I assure of soothing darkness.'Life is all about perception. Everyone is open to take his side of coin. But there are just two and what happens to them who have the third view? Move on with your side and carry them with you as you always had because its difficult to let them go as orphans. Enjoy the journey with no end, distance with no fixed points, darkness without light.

I am Full !!!!

I am full of the long nights, which give me strengthstrength to carry on no matter how dark!!!I am full of the long walks, which paint theperfect sunsets by a beach holding hands!!!I am full of the dinner talks, which makethe food more tastier than it ever was!!!I am full of the smiles, giggles and your touchto show that you missed me like crazy!!!I am full of the long wait, which promise mea better moment and a new high!!!I am full of the fragrance, which reminds ofthe best microseconds I had when I once lived!!!I am full of (your) innocence, the greatest expressionyou flash as a reminder of love and life!!!I am full of tears, as we part ways for a fresh meetwhich will bring cheer back in life!!!I am full of beats, I am full of lifeI am full of surprises and I am full of you!!!

¿y pensaste que me conocías?

When was the last time u looked at me and wished you could change it all?Wished that there was an alternative to all that you could see??Wished that you could change everything altogether? The face, the mind, the body, the soul?Rule the spirit that you couldn’t catch? Wished you could take some of that cheekiness?Wished you could mould some of that big grin?Or just plain wished that you could do away with it all?Just modify me to something you want me to be?Crush the spirit?Break the mind?Conquer the body?Distort the vision?Reconstruct the soul?
I am not what you want me to be,I can never turn out to be someone to fulfill your vision of me,I won’t change to keep you happy,I will be selfish for a change;I will keep myself happyI will smile again at people I don’t know,I will help the heartless,I will speak my mind;I will trust the cold and the apathetic once again,I will give in to temptation once in a while,I will savor the happiness coming my way;I will fill my world with intoxicated sanity,I will regain my old brutal ways again;I will give an answer back when I am insultedI will value everyone I meet,I will not let you stamp my self respect;I will not let you do away with my dignityI won’t let you have all the fun at my expense.
And the spirit will be born again,The crushed soul will revive,The broken mind will emerge stronger than ever,The conquered body will self reign again;The distorted vision will be more focused and sharper than ever.
You think you can do away with all this??Well; you can try,I live life by my own rulesAnd I want to be happy till I die.
Reminds me of these lines by Nelly Furtado from her song try.
All of the moments that already passedWe'll try to go back and make them lastAll of the things we want each other to beWe never will be.