Tuesday, April 21, 2015


Inspired by and in the same tune as, one of my favorite Radiohead songs.
Please watch the video before reading...

In the playful smile
In the twinkle of her eyes
I am born again.

In the weight of her head
Resting on my arm
I am born again

In an adrenaline burst
I set to conquer this world

In the long-drawn sigh
In the rolling of her eyes
I am torn again

In the weight of her words
Pressing on my chest
I am torn again

In a sunday noon gust
My house of cards flew in dust

In the sway of rum
Dancing up and down
I have mourned again

With long blows of smoke
Of all the emotions
I have drained myself

As a blunt knife with rust
I am back to conquer this world

Sunday, April 19, 2015


Life is like a lit cigarette
When idle, time moves slowly like the burning head
But days just seem to fly so fast like the smoke running away

Watching them getting wasted silently, we get desperate.
We take a hit of life into our lungs to catch those days that are slipping away
The embers on the tip glow red in the dark
Our head is afloat in momentary bliss
But ironically the cigarette burns fast, leaving ashes of memories in its wake

Three smokers lighted up one evening
One was so anxious to smoke his cigarette to the fullest
He took fervent puffs, with occasional coughs,
Agitated by the shrinking breadth,
Leaving scarce time to catch his breath

Another was so snug with his cigarette as with a good old friend
He took a deep drag until his lungs were full,
And exhaled slowly closing his eyes,
While a peaceful calm washed over him.
He never glanced at the diminishing cigarette

I tried to take a deep drag but my lungs failed me in between.
I exhaled suddenly. While I gasped for breath,
I kept on looking at the burning tip,
the flying smoke,  the ticking clock
I lifted my cigarette to take another,
But the cigarette slipped off my fingers, so I stubbed it away.
And lit another one.

Monday, March 2, 2015


Lifeless chairs strewn across the patio,
on a saturday morning when the sun is shining,
yell silently, tales of the night before.

The many chairs in disarray around the long table
some straight, some skewed, 
some upright and some on the ground,
jeer and boo, cheer and laugh.

The two chairs facing each other 
both shyly distant from the table in between,
speak in murmurs exchanging nervous looks.

Another pair of chairs facing each other
both huggingly near to the table in between,
speak in whispers exchanging longing gazes.

Two chairs resting side by side,
are curled up closely together
engulfed in a peaceful silence,
impervious to the noise around.

At a table of four,
two chairs touching legs, talking verbosely in phrases
face two chairs sitting apart, being frugal with words

A single chair sitting in a corner,
facing away from the crowd,
stares blankly into the dark outside. 

Another single chair on the opposite corner,
but facing towards the crowd,
observes genially, the radiance inside.