A letter

can you hear the sound of rain
on my roof top
the funny rhythm of the song 
they sing,
remember this is our place,
the blue lights still yearn for your face
as they glowed on your temples,
I know you are smiling while reading this letter,
and am lying on that old mattress 
where we once made love,
the book rack through which 
you used to run your fingers 
sometimes humming a tune moan for your touch
as I sometimes moan for you
I know you are smiling while reading this letter,
the light, the books, the old mattress
remember them
remember me
I am still here
waiting patiently
still 
waiting 
longing
fondling the memories
and I know you are smiling while reading this letter.

Infected

Infected 
with the notorious feeling 
of passion,
I looked up to the sky to find you
instead dark clouds hovered about
dear moon 
where were you...
as the paths was whitened with hail
as the chilly wind withered my face
the cracks of my red painted lips
uttered a word of despise,
infected was I 
infected was you dear moon
only a glimpse could heal
only a glimpse could burn
so long
you laid hidden
and I walked along.

Lights,sound and Action.

She looked into his eyes

trying to find the truth

or

she already knew the truth,

it was her first time

and from there began her journey...

Now she knows the game well,

she sells her products

and she know what sells high.

Mornings;the market is usually down

sometimes the first timers come by

they are never hard nuts to crack.

Ah! it's only the nights...

dressed she stands

sometimes holding a cigarette 

between her touched up lips.

Red...the colour of passion,

psychedellic lights

and I just watch

I am a passerby

who sees her everyday

and she looks into my eyes

and smile

a smile half senile...

Blame it on the glass of wine

You and me

a couple,

me

you

seperate individuals

a gap.

The fragile glass of wine

a bigger space

time factor

a random race

and the a seperation.

You...free

me...free

you, a recluse

I, a recluse

friends comfort

party, drinks, smoke in the air

jargons of thoughts.

You found a way

I too found a way

the end of the story

roads never meet.

You die

I die

hopefully both in Heaven

and we meet.

Thundesr, lightnings

now the question is

are we going to fall for it again?

angels are confused

so are we

However,dear Lord wants

some PEACE.

The crust and the molten layers

Am not yet ready.

Ready to hear your rumblings and grumbling.

I cease to be a part of your world.

Let me be the loner for a while.

Let me introspect, divulge in the fathomless borders of human mind.

I don’t know who you are.

What is your relation with me?

For me you are just like any other person I have not known

and for the moment I don’t want to know.

Oh! So you are angry.

But I can’t help that. Can I?

You call me selfish. Suit yourself.

I will be gone now for a while.

Where? Don’t ask me that.

Somewhere in between the conscious

and sub-conscious world I hope.

Am I dreaming?

Am I sleeping?

Hell1 I know not.

Let there be cryptic formations of desire,

Unruly lust for temperamental seduction,

Quest for knowledge,

Let there be me and the unknown truth that

lies beneath surrender of human soul.

Monosyllable

The hip flask still lies

on the table,

the table-where heaps of paper lies

amidst unknown poetry

and if you run your fingers

on the rims of the decorative corners

you will feel dirt

and may be a part of the pain

of those unknown poetry.

He was never a super star,

never aspired to be one,

he was a commoner

like you and me

but

different,

how?

don't ask me that.

the rusted locket that resembles

a skull,

is a heirloom now

that once belonged to him

and now to me

lies there in a box

of unhindered treasure.

The rust,the dirt

the unknown poetry

are blank spaces that

he lived once,

but

all is now a black sheet.

I tried to scribble something

but amidst the

unknown poetry

I am just an unknown monosyllable...

when i lost poetry

Dreams as they come

as they fly

as they change

sometimes make me awe stuck.

I am who I am

wheatish,

toned,

moisturised...

you

dark,

memorable,

bitterly sweet,

dreamy feverishly dreamy.

yesterday when I lost poetry

I was sad

and then today I found

you again

poetry, you can be fickle minded.

today you are mine

tomorrow you move on

and you leave a mark

somewhere

and i am still searching....