Thursday, August 15, 2019

For time is running out

I still hear the call
Faint chants from far away
Sounds of cymbals imploring me to hasten,
for time is running out.

Faint voices of promises not kept
like a butterfly fluttering near my heart.
Voices that will not be silenced
even by my drunken numbness.

Somewhere, there's an innocent child
"How could you let me down?
You should have looked after me.
So much time
has passed.
Why did you waste
so much time
serving the dead?
Why did you try so hard
to kill by neglect
the only thing
that was truly alive in you?

it is grasping for breath.
Can you hear
its desperation?

Among the ruins of regret,
ruins that are sad and yet
so peaceful,
among the ruins of shattered dreams
can you hear a song faintly flowing?
Almost drowned out
by ghosts howling haunting melodies,
can you hear a song that is calling you
to search where it is coming from?

Move through the ruins.
Forsake the wailing ghosts
that you can never appease
and follow the song.
For time is running out.

For time
running out."

Sunday, May 26, 2019

No Other Side

They tell me
that I should listen to the other side
for there are some very fine people there
and I ask them
how many sides do you see to racism?

“Two sides to every conflict”,
They tell me.
“It takes two hands to clap”
and I ask them
“How many hands
does it take to slap?”

Scattered Seeds

Scattered Seeds

I look at plants, I look at weeds
I look at tall trees
I look at fallen trees
I see flower bushes
I see trampled grass.
I see bees
I see ants.

I gather seeds
I scatter seeds.

Will they plant them?
Will they nurture them?
Will something take root?
Will they wait
To see it grow?
To see it flower?

Sunday, December 09, 2018

The Journey Continues

The Journey Continues
Lost thousand times a day
The journey continues.

In drunken slumber
The wakefulness continues.

Wallowing in sensuality
Something remained untouched.

Disavowing everything I had ever learnt
Learning survived.

Why did I waste all this time?
And yet
There is timelessness.

Irritated at trifles
Equanimity is still there.

At my inability to break through
Freedom is amused.

Nothing makes sense
There is no point in anything
And yet
There is deep meaning

The journey continues
Because there is nowhere to go.
And yet
I keep wandering
Getting disappointed
Moving away
Starting over.

Sunday, August 06, 2017

The ocean of pain

In pain,
I can swim
and meet you
in the same sorrowful waters.

In pain,
I can swim
and know
how hard it is
for you
to swim too.

In pain,
I can leave
my solid ground.
Ground that is solid,
yet so lonely.
Ground that is solid,
yet so thorny.
Ground that is solid,
but full of barbed fences.

In pain,
I can leave
my solid ground
and meet you.
Then when we meet
on ground,
yours or mine,
I hope I remember
we swam
in the same ocean

of pain.

Saturday, April 22, 2017


Here I am.
So different
from the image you have of me.

Here I am.
So different
from the ideal you hold in front of me.

Here I am.
Deeply flawed,
so far from any semblance of perfection.

Here I am.
Trying my best
at any point.

Here I am.
Losing my way
so very often.

Here I am.
Not perfect in any role
and yet
not trapped in any role.

Here I am.
Caught up in confusion
and yet
 clear about where I am.

Here I am.
Far more real
than the best image you can conjure up.

Here I am.
With no choice
but be myself.

Here I am.
Accepting you
not accepting me.

Monday, April 17, 2017

Two Birds

Two Birds
Inspired by a verse from the Mundaka Upanishad.

Two Birds
Today, I bear the weight of social expectations
and today, I cast off the weight of social expectations.

Today, I honor the demands of society
and today, I refuse the demands of society.

Today, I am ravaged by my thoughts and feelings
and today, I am untouched by my thoughts and feelings.

Today, I am completely caught up in my situation
and today, I am completely free of my situation.

Today, I am the lotus
and today, I am the swamp.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Ode to a bigot

This is how alchemy works.

The merest thought of you
whips me into a frenzy
and gives me the energy
to do the things
that I should do out of love
but don’t.
For my laziness I am ashamed to say
holds far greater sway
than my love.

I look at your ugly face
Not the face you were born with
But the face you made.
I look at your ugly face
and want to help rescue kittens.

I hear your hateful voice
Not your voice
But the things you voice
and I want to help rescue
refugees thousands of miles away
whose plight
is a direct result
of the hatred you manifest.

The poison you spew
opens up my clogged arteries
and flushes out accumulations
of years of gluttony.

Your diatribes
are like ice cold water
on my sleepy face
waking me up
from my drunken slumber.

could very well be
an experiment gone horribly wrong
if it lets bigots like you
hold so much power
and attract
hordes of angry followers.
But I am
putting on my apron
stained and full of
acid holes of my own mistakes
even as all my demons
tug at my feet and try and stop me.
But I am putting on my apron
and mixing
what little love and compassion I can rummage
and pouring it
into the cesspool

that you are creating.