forgive my occasional absence, buds...

unperturbed
on your self-appointed pedestal
wry smile on your ruby lips
bemused question perched
on raised eyebrows
you look but doesn't seem to
see
why i sometimes just wanna be
like everybody

perplexed you must be
why eat rice
when your tongue has tasted spice
why drink water
when your throat has savored
wondrous elixirs

come,
come sit with me
you said
on my lofty dais
so we can play scientists and philosophers
and watch the kids down below
revel in silly games
from dawn till dusk
all day, every day
ad repetitum
ad nauseum

come on,
come sit with me
we can snicker behind one hand
at the empty frivolity of their lives
while the other cheer them on with plastic pom poms
it'll be fun!

my simple reply:
oh you of enlightened mind
you know i love the view up here
you know i cherish
the witty banters about the mundane, the insane
between our brains

but sometimes
i just want
to run amongst the crowd
to feel the sun on my face
to share a laugh about the inane
just so i know i'm still alive

cause at the end of the day
i want to know if
my heart's still beating
if
i'm still breathing
the same air as
all of God's creation.

"BACK TO LIFE, BACK TO REALITY..."

so i got off my sorry ass today
after lounging in my carnal comforts

a prolonged languished delay

and of all the wisdom of yesterday
the truth came from a shakespeare's play

HAMLET.
Act III, Scene iii:

King: (Rises.) My words fly up, my thoughts remain below.
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

And we can spend endless summers
talk of love and truth and liberty and justice
what's the point if our talk remains talk
empty gusts of self-righteous pompous air
what good is a fiddle if it can't play tunes
what good is a pen if it can't scribe
what good are your principles if it's just empty blabber
what good is form without structure?

today, with trepidation
i asked myself
what is to be of my life?

and though i still might not know
what is to become of me
i do know what i don't want it to be...

"a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
-Macbeth, Act V, Scene v.

harbour in the tempest

and in my despair
she beckons
my city of joy
though i left her buried under
a pile of abandoned dreams and forgotten faith

and though i failed her
she never faltered
in the hope that this wayfarer will find her once again.

and so the prodigal daughter returns
to her constant Northern Star
weak from being lured and befuddled by
false flickers of fleeting fireflies

and just as she once woke my heart
from its winter's slumber
now i come to her with my soul twisted bitter
she won't make me better
she won't make me fitter

but in her warm embrace
i shall once again learn to taste
the sweet simplicity of a smile sincere
the soothing salve on a soul shattered

cause for all
the promises i make and break
from the cradle to the grave
all she wants is me

the irony
for her needs are far and many
and yet all she wants is me
and in turn her love flows free

and so this wayfarer shall once again
dock in her harbour of love
for a brief respite

kolkata
the third sunrise from today
shall find me at your doorstep
to say hello, old friend
take me into your arms again
for only to you will the warmth be returned

"at the end of the day,
the love we take is equal to the love we make."

the crooners can sing this till they're blue
but the beatles knew only to you
it's true.

why elephants are quiet

invisible songs straddling the air
waiting to be plucked

some unwritten
some unsung

some unheard
.


(inn-spired by the incidental confluence of two wayfarers)