Tag: philosophy

  • The Silver In My Song

    The broken flowers they fell at my feet
    Gold and silver, ebony and peat
    And I knew not where this road may lead
    Will I find in the end what I need
    And I need...
    A silence in the shape of the sun
    A bit of violence with the face of a nun
    And someone who won't turn and run
    When I face down the barrel of a gun
    But hear now...
    I don't have a penny to pay as your price
    I spend my nights cold and filled up on rice
    And I know my heart is my own greatest vice
    Always afraid that my love won't suffice
    You can see...
    Out there those houses of princes and kings
    Whilst I can only shelter you neath my own wings
    And I have no diamonds to tie our rings
    Just the hollow of my chest to rest your sufferings
    So beware...
    Of my sweet words that may seduce and sway
    They only ache so to take you away
    And keep you happy come what it may
    We will be children till our hair turn grey
    But I know...
    This poem seems just a practice in rhymes
    And does not cover the cost of past crimes
    But I shall spend every penny and all of my dimes
    For our today and the end of our times
    So...
    Never forgive if you want but don't forget
    The magic of those moments we met
    And I wonder if it's my heart you now so hate
    But wasn't our love written by the hands of the fate?
    Thus I say…
    The broken flowers they fell at my feet
    Gold and silver, ebony and peat
    And I knew not where this road may lead
    Will I find in the end what I need
    And I need…
    You
  • The Nuances of My Nights

                A poet knows
    The name of all places
    And directions to none
    - Not a Poet


    I write because it hurts
    And if I scream they will know my pain
    I don’t want to scream
    Don’t want to shatter the serene mirror
    That holds together
    All false reflections
    The world holds dear
    For the blame of it
    Would lie on me
    And I have enough confessions to pardon
    In my soliloquy

    I slept late yesterday
    There was a tempest inside me
    And my mind was anchored loose
    I was swayed, buffeted
    And at once painted still
    As if my soul
    Was the albatross
    From the Rime of the Ancient Mariner
    And I thought:
    Every murder is a suicide in a way
    Isn’t it?
    To surrender the right of your life to someone else
    Without a fight
    There are many types of murders
    Of trust, flesh and mind
    Common massacres
    Gruesome
    One of a kind…
    It’s getting dark

    I should have had dinner
    But the lights were too bright
    And candles too dim
    The plate felt soft
    And the spoon too thin
    Or was it me
    Who felt brittle and blind
    With so many dreams to dream
    And so few days to do
    (Now that was a lie
    For I cherish my own incompetence
    Like a child does it’s once favourite but now broken toy)

    I am afraid I have found
    The edge of my reason
    And the world beyond (And would you believe it?)
    Is a mirror…
    It seems me and this mirror
    We are obsessed with each other
    In finding faults
    In pointing out to one another
    Our own shrinking horizons
    Until one of us agrees
    The threshold of our limitations

    I slept late yesterday
    (No, I already said that
    Pardon, it’s the mirror reflecting my memories
    God I am tired)

    Good night
  • The Mist of My Mornings

    Why cry about things you can laugh at
    Said the quote on my bathroom mirror
    It wasn’t funny
    I thought
    And smiled to myself

    The nights have been short
    Or perhaps it was I who has been stretched thin
    Between two impossibilities
    Of being here and being there
    An almost everywhere
    Every thought of mine now
    Feels like a bullet through the brain
    The very last; and in a way everlasting
    But new ones creep out
    Out of this philosophical yeast
    Growing in the dark keeps of my mind
    Nurtured with cold sweat
    And self taught paralysis

    The toothpaste tastes funny
    Like old age
    These are those days of winter
    When sadness feels warm
    Like a hug or a cup of coffee
    Something to snuggle into and fall asleep
    Sadness; the elixir of a dying man
    Sadness, yes
    And melancholy (Pretty word)
    Made of me and the unholy:
    Thoughts, dreams, desires
    Snails creeping on a wet wire

    I remember a time
    When I dreamt of being a dog
    And lie on the carpet
    Of fallen leaves
    Dogs can dream, can’t they? (Yes)
    And so I dreamt of being a dog
    To come full circle
    A perfection
    My being complete
    A zero

    The wind from the window
    Touches my face
    And I blush;
    Love is in the air
    Or is it despair?
    How can one compare?
    When being utterly unaware…
    (I rhymed on purpose
    For they say poetry must taste like a painting)
    I gargle and gag
    There is blood in my spit
    A rose line
    Branching out like a symphony
    Clarinet and timpani
    Violins and bassoons
    Bach and Beethoven
    Mozart who died too soon
    The tap turns
    A thunder
    The tap turns
    All silence

    Good morning




  • Found

    And the world
    It is falling
    And there are no secrets
    Left to share
    I am found
    Someone’s calling
    And all I need is
    To be there
    So it’s a goodbye
    Everyone
    And I shall see you
    When the summer’s sun
    Is finally won
  • The Cold Sun of Midnight

    I sleep upon the windowpane 
    And the glass cracks under my face
    Like lightning from my breath
    The night below is strange;
    Captured stars howling
    On streets and in houses
    As people dance
    To hide the shadow of their shame
    I can smell their perfume here
    Thirty stories high
    Scent filled with lost sleep and sadness
    It numbs me
    My throat, my voice
    And I choke without a choice
    (Should I shift? Should I turn?
    I do…and the thunder swims to my belly
    The glass gasps
    But the shattering never comes)

    Sound of a million footsteps
    Collapse into a single chord
    Time’s thread
    This linear, pinpoint eternity
    Do I merge or do I dare
    Far foolish when being aware
    That there are no ripples in the ocean
    Just reflections of the air
    Lives, candles
    Last days in wreath
    Desire turned dream
    Dream turned to death

    I now see the eyelashes
    Left by a lost time
    For cinders on the shore
    For hearts saying no more
    For children born sans choice
    Once people now toys
    And so the dying swans dance
    Vying for a chance
    To nibble the breadcrumbs
    Of broken down plans
    And I, this vain, stitched flesh in pain
    Lie supine, and divine, my tears through rain
    And sing against the chorus
    Those verses that say
    Ask and you shall get
    And to get you must pray
    As if prayers are questions
    As if questions would find a way
    As if ways would take me home
    As if home is for what I pray

    So I await
    Under the cold sun of midnight
    Watching myself
    Falling out of sight
    First a man
    Then a memory
    Now a stranger
    Forever a stray
    A silhouette
    Some shadow
    All silence
    Is what I say




  • Ether

    I rest my faults on my tongue
    And though it is textured as glass
    The taste is of raspberry
    Or blood
    I fail to distinguish
    My throat hurts
    From the cuts
    The bed is warm
    Like unwavering ash
    Like a tired pyre
    And I search with numb fingers
    My eyes; closed now
    For this is a dream
    I am not dead
    For this is a dream
    There is no bed
    The room I wake up to is all ochre
    And I am naked waist up
    Breath fills my belly
    And I shiver as the cold air claims my hunger
    My lungs, this ribcage holding together
    Heartbeats tearing to escape
    Stands out
    Like fingers from my skin
    I am a man no more
    Just random thoughts on a paper
    And my infinitesimal existence
    Like rings of rising vapour
    I remember being beautiful
    I remember being a being
    I remember writing those lyrics
    Which no man could ever sing
    But it is cold now
    And I feel I am too old to be young
    Now it is cold
    And I know I am too young to be old
    The winter is at the window
    And it is not going to wait
    The fire is long gone
    Now I am just a butterfly under the blanket
    And I would have closed my eyes
    Had the pillow not snored back
    Whispering to me
    All the things that I lack
    Privy to my dreams
    It does so on my behalf
    So when my dream does shatters
    I am not alone when I laugh
  • Razzmatazz

    Dry twigs wrestle the wind 
    Shadows burn on the ground
    Here I stand in the center
    And the world turns around
    With yellow leaves laughing
    White sand dyed brown
    In Nameless nothingness
    I named a pronoun
    All of me
    All of me
    At the bottom of this sea
    Sand dunes shrunk to seashell
    Like past framed into memory

    I watch dazed morning
    Walk drunk upon the shore
    Where my footsteps on the sand
    Leave footprints no more
    As if all of my life
    Was a mirage from the start
    A mirror holding together
    A man falling apart

    All of me
    All of me
    At the bottom of this sea
    In the sky a sun wrinkled
    And stars breaking free
    Am I drowning
    Am I drowning
    Should I breathe this darkness and lay
    As a dead man in a dying womb being fed everyday
    The same old desires
    The same old silver songs
    The same old praise and promises
    That nothing would go wrong

    And only if only
    I could no longer be here
    Be a past that never happened
    And a future always near
    But never coming together
    With the rhythm of our heart
    An end that is unending
    A beginning that never did start
    You and me, you and me
    The Sand and the sea
    Away forever
    Our little infinity

    The edges of the world
    Like pages from a play
    A Recurring razzmatazz
    Occurring everyday
    The blue’s beats
    Jarring jazz
    And ballads on the way
    Razzmatazz, razzmatazz
    As Liquored lovers say
    “You be thought and I the mind
    To reminisce and remind
    That love is not litmus
    To be tested everyday
    Let it flower, let it grow
    Be careful what you sow
    For the soil takes it all
    Your flight and your fall
    And it’s the way of the crowd
    To take as truth what is loud
    While our love is all silence
    Strong sans the violence
    So take care of the petals
    They are flesh and not metal
    And do not look for reflection
    Till the water; it has settled”

    Dry twigs wrestle the wind
    Shadows burn on the ground
    Here I stand at the edge
    And the world is not round
    Black leaves moan
    Under heels; trodden down
    In Nameless nothingness
    I named a pronoun
    All of me
    All of me
    At the bottom of this sea
    Falling nowhere
    With two skies above me
    All of me
    All of me
    At the bottom of this sea
    Fading in the distance
    Once man now memory
  • The I in Why?

    I do not desire
    To lie naked in a rattrap life
    And lubricate my verse with victorian words;
    Filled with awe inspiring acts
    Led by mundane lust
    Of Angels and Men alike
    Nor do deep desires murder me
    Nerve by nerve
    Peeling away my eggshell skin
    To illuminate the onion within;
    A coiled rainbow, boiled white
    Neither am I a shadow
    Fallen far from crowded feet
    Awaiting on indifferent paths
    For a heavenly retreat
    If at all I were to bare myself and be
    One thing that should suffice how I see
    Myself, in this crystal world
    Of self reflection and askewed insight
    I would be a thoughtful statue
    Sitting alone in a far off land
    With infinity in my head
    And nothing in my hand

  • Thinking of You

    Thoughts of you 
    A wounded prism
    Bleeding rainbow blood
    From skin the colour of acrylic
    Water upon water
    Wet upon wet
    (Random noise;
    My pseudo poetry,
    Commas and semicolons limping across the verses
    In a desolate frequency
    Like an empty road echoing;
    The silhouettes of silent wheels
    The smell of burnt rubber
    And the touch of gasoline)
    I long to stare at your face that stands stark against the sky
    A newborn moon; unblemished
    Rolling upon tethered horizons
    Like a dime in the dark

    O how I ache to be in your arms now
    To be your ice and your fire
    Your utter despair and open desire
    I wish I could hold you
    Like ink in my paper palm
    Like an unformed word
    Like a fleeting thought
    I wish I could know how you see me
    Am I an anchor that keeps you calm
    Or wings that sets you free?
    I know I heal as an afterthought
    And you are careful in remembrance
    And although we have met few times
    These moments that pass
    This liquid life
    Is reshaped by our every touch
    For the fire that burns us feels the same
    Today, tomorrow, after an eternity again

    I remember being
    Your dream
    When you were wide awake
    A flower trapped within sunshine
    And I know I am not destiny’s choice
    For my voice
    That dark tobacco of my baritone
    Is neither honey nor nectar
    And my eyes that reach out
    Through the veiled carcass of some velveteen night
    Belongs to shadow and to spectre
    But love
    Through the shards of slow time
    That ebbed our feet away for many days
    Now we walk
    With our two hearts disguised as one

  • Part-time Philosophies

    The ocean does not speak of sadness
    For sadness has no voice that can say
    That being empty is like being filled forever
    An infinite without a way
    And when I with my eyes look out
    At a world where each face has a place
    I wonder who really wins
    If it’s in a circle that everyone does race
    True it is tragic that in the end
    There is no magic that holds all the cards
    For his is the glory of the game
    Who plays his joker as ace when it’s hard
    And I know in this mesmerizing madness
    For the follicle of that forever fame
    People play their pieces for practice
    Unaware that they will never be the same
    And so do I yearn to sit
    By the shore where horizons do cease
    And thank the seed of silence
    For this life that I had on a lease