Come,
Spend another moment with me
Be the chorus to this melody
Be the refrain that drives me insane
Be unabashed and unashamedly you.
The tempest, the temptress, relentless
Leaving me restless and battling with verbosity
Reeling too…
Cos I’m feeling you
As I stutter and stumble,
over the intensity of the chemistry,
within the brevity of that moment
That moment you spent with me
Dazed within your gaze,
I was revelling in you
My..what a rendezvous!
How decadent…
Such a treat, however fleeting it was,
What a meeting it was
Leaving my heart beating through my skin
Breathing heavy with a devilish grin.
Now,
I wanna feel your refrain again
Whisper your name again
Indulgently…
Intentionally
Lay you next to me
Simmering with subtle intensity
Staring… impatiently
Unapologetically
Daring you to be unsubtle with me
Well,
What do you say…Pallavi?
Spend another moment with me?
Bas ek pal? 😛 (Just one moment)
Category: Experiences
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Pallavi (The Refrain)
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Summiting
Somehow, words tend to fall short.
Clichés of bleeding pens,
Of pouring hearts onto pages—
Nonsense!
They never crossed the writer’s door.
Ring-fenced within words, the heart is mute.
To believe otherwise is vanity—
It’s foolish
One can write and write, yet the words arrive stale,
Pale and cold in the shadow of mountains
They try and fail to describe
I do not know which medium would suffice,
Just not that of the scribe
How many times, in how many ways,
Have I longed to make you see through my eyes?
Make you believe what I believe—
Yet as soon as the word is written,
It is at the mercy of what you perceive
It’s make-believe
And then somehow,
The mountains I peaked become molehills…
Or maybe..
I’m just blaming my pen.
-
Open water
Flipped and tumbled by the waves
The swell, relentless
Turning me inside out
In this chaos, calm comes easy
The ocean cannot touch the depth of my stillness here
No
It’s the shore that terrifies me
-
Potpourri
I want to find a forgotten old photo,
on my phone when it says ‘remember the day when…’
Then fall in love all over again
Get those old butterflies to dust their wings
Ask this old heart to skip a beat and sing
Knowing where those blurry smiles would lead
Like a lush gardens very first seed
The sweet fragrance of nostalgia in bloom
Instead of the dried petals that perfume this room…
…how do I disable this memories thing?
-
Friday night
It’s a curious dichotomy
Anticipating yet awaiting nothing
Noone is at the door,
Nor will there be
Yet, when the wind rattles the latch,
I glance—
Just in case.
A lonely leaf, crushed into the doormat stares back
There’s still 3 hours till bedtime
Maybe I’ll vacuum tomorrow…
Maybe I wont
-
Bird of spring
God make me a bird of spring
Stretching the first time its wings
Wary of the drop below
Yet fearless of what it does not know
Take this knowing away from me
Undo all I’ve seen and set me free
-
Putting it on paper
Am I writing you out of me,
or writing you into existence?
Does the paper take the weight of the words,
or immortalise a fleeting thought?
Oh the irony…
-
Silence
For the longest time there was stillness
Unspoilt, uncracked, unbreakable
Until silence awoke and spoke to me
She broke through and spoke to me
She spoke in such a way,
That I heard her voice
Though not a sound was made,
I heard her voice
Though not even a blade of grass did move
At once, I was soothed and scolded
Soothed by her presence in solitude
The companion I could hardly discern
She held me and strengthened my fortitude
Though her touch was not gentle, I learned
If I had known it would burn,
If I had known it would burn so deeply
I would have chosen to keep her at bay
Instead of harbouring her voice
Harbouring her voice so close,
As if to savour the sensations
The sensations of her labouring intonations
Savouring her lamentations
Or did she just echo mine?
Did I pour my heart out willingly?
Or did she decanter this wine?
When did I become her cupbearer?
The cupbearer of silence
Did she have my acquiescence by design?
Or did I seek her counsel?
Perhaps she was always here
Biding her time
Biding her time to thaw the stillness
To breach these walls
Knowing they’d fall
Knowing I’d seek her call
I wonder,
Did I finally choose to listen that night?
Or was I compelled to stay?
The night that silence spoke to me
When she spoke in such a way,
That all I could hear was her voice
As if I even…
As if I even had another choice
-
Unravelling I
Why is one never full?
I fear this appetite will be the death of me
Yet, I will still ask why
As my last breath slips through my throat
This insatiable desire to know,
Tell me how,
Tell me why!
And then why and why again
For a moment, I’ll pretend I’m done—
I’m satisfied
Untrue
Deep inside, I’m never satiated
The wise say, “to be is all”;
All else is white noise
Make the wise choice to accept that being is enough
And then diffusing as does ink in an ocean swell
As does the sweet fragrance of jasmine
Stolen from its home by the breeze
As does the sunset kissing the horizon
Yes, yes, yes!
I understand the concept
I’ve read the works and felt the shiver of being
The shiver is evanescent
Yet my thirst, is an unquenchable curse
A famous poet spoke of a thousand desires
Many fulfilled, yet the yearn for more burned inside
In truth, this is all I know
To know
To know I know not enough
To know that knowing is peering through the looking glass;
To be is the other side—
Is peering inside oneself
Finding the source of I
Removing I from within the heart—
As the old Sufi – Bulleh Shah – once pondered
It all sounds so profound yet impossibly simple
I wonder where to begin…
There it is again
I wonder, before I can pretend that I do not exist
I always come first—
Ego before everything else
A prisoner to I
I think…
I think I will wonder why
Until the ink is lost in the swell
Just as it was before I ever wondered
As it will be long after I cease to be
I wonder how long that is
Perhaps it is not for I to know,
Perhaps the question is the folly
I wonder what will unravel first
The thread I’m pulling or I?
-
Urban Buddha
A whirring fridge,
Intermittent hissing
from an old boiler
And the clacking staccato
of a suitcase bouncing
along the pavement outside
With me in the middle
The conductor of this cacophony
Struggling to harmonise
this discorded orchestra
As the magpie is tone deaf,
And that leafblower
is messing up the crescendo…
I think I’m meditating wrong
-
Tethered self
Everyday, I close my eyes
Exhaling slowly, I ascend to the heavens
Revelling in the footnote like significance of I
For a moment, I see the minutiae that is I
A speck of self-aware dust,
Lost in a blink yet suffering with meaning
Supposedly, I am one and none
Naive conjecture or is it my blindness that is naive?
Inhaling, I’m betrayed again by the I within
That merely flirts with oneness but is tethered to this world
Afflicted with desires, wants and dreams
Wryly smiling at the irony of the want to be free
Exhaling slowly, I pull against these chains once again
-
A writer’s conundrum
The beauty I find in disarray
Turns dismay into a hobby, a pastime
Memories of a time past
Felt everlasting once, but couldn’t,
Alas they must remain in disarray,
In shards,
In pieces,
Broken strings not to be threaded
For there was no single story,
No one narrative,
No words to be lost, recalled, revised or omitted
Only the essence,
The sentiment,
The tender sting of nostalgia
Raw emotion in perpetuity
With I, in servitude to it’s beautiful ambiguity
-
Ghostwriter
With no free will
These words were always to be
No mistakes, No second takes or abandoned verses
Each ends as it began, as it was written, as it was dreamed
Consciousness flowing through lucid streams
Always to be,
Never to wake
Not ever knowing why
For I was destined to ask,
And ask, and ask.
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The man
I’m a man’s man,
I don’t ask for no help
I go through hell alone and have a story to tell!
Down at the bar with my bros every blue moon
Cos I don’t see the need, in seeming to need to see them too soon
They don’t need to see behind the scenes and lose the mystique
Like a couple hours earlier when I was crying alone in my bedroom
That shit is too bleak,
I’d rather hide than seek a shoulder to cry on
I’m meant to be the strong one
The one they rely on
The joker, the charmer, the rational thinker
Part-time stoic and full-time drinker
Taking shot after shot but I don’t tend to the wounds
I only intend to consume
Letting nothing spill out
Drowning out the sorrow
Taking the pain home with interest tomorrow
To the same room where I sat and I cried
I’ll sit again and again I’ll ask why:
Why, why do I feel so disconnected?
Why do I feel so empty and rejected?
Why do I feel lonely when I’m rarely alone?
Why do I feel like a stranger when I sit on my own?
The guy from the bar now sat in my home,
He isn’t me
He’s a bunch of pleasantries and open ended questions
Hoping to blend into the scene without making a scene,
He’s seen by all but completely unseen
Shocked by it all, like some unforeseen circumstance
Even though every day, it’s the same old song and dance
But still, I’m a mans man
I don’t ask for no help
Better to burn alone than be dragged from this hell
Can’t risk the reveal by trusting another
By sharing how I feel with a man I call brother
Imagine if he knew all the darkness and pain
Would he meet my eye again or think I’m insane?
I’d rather reject myself and play another role
Instead of revealing the whole,
Revealing my soul,
Instead of pleading ‘Help me,
Please get me out of this hole!’
The man.
-
A void dance
If I look to the world for company, I find it fleeting
I forget every time that you’re in here all along
Beating gently within and without,
The only certainty atop my mountain of doubt
I need not listen for your whispers,
For in that straining, the undue pain of loneliness is paid with interest
Torment replaces rest, and your peace is drowned
Let me go
Let me drown instead
End that ego that begins and ends in my head
Become nothing,
Where it all begins with no end
Embrace the void,
To feel full again.
-
Writer’s block
Writer’s block, writer’s block
One more try before my brain is locked
It’s like my mind clocked out
Got knocked out cold
No fresh ideas
They’re all covered in mould
Dusty and old
Brain is stuck and I can’t think straight
Don’t usually think
The pen doesn’t wait
It leaves my mind behind at the starting gate
Like it channels something else,
From a higher state
That tingly feeling
As the words gravitate down,
Or do I levitate up?
I’m not so sure
But there’s a disconnect,
A weak signal
Whatever it is, I’m left bereft
In a state of creative paralysis
Just rhyming out this analysis
It’s all the mind knows,
It’s trying its best
It knows how to structure,
But it can’t do the rest
I’ve lost it I think
Nothing is linking up
Can’t find the words
This is getting absurd
Can’t hide anymore
I’m unmasked
Can’t answer for myself
I don’t know what to say
Ironic I’m aware
Chronicling despair
Feels cold,
Feels naked
Forgot to rhyme
I’m disconnected..
-
Insomnia
Time to put my head down
Get me some sleep
Gotta fight the devil first
Cos he’s grabbing my feet!
Through the sheets, I feel the heat
Man, I almost skip a heart beat!
I start to sweat as he jumps on my chest
Safe bet tonight I won’t be getting no rest
I hear his whispers of indifference to the predicament I’m in
He knows I’m listening and whimpering cos I’m troubled within
Troubled by him
Troubled by his stupid little devilish grin
Like an urchin, got me begging for scraps
Got me begging for my freedom,
Cos I’m caught in his trap
But the devil is a prick
This be his bread and butter
Filling my head with so much dread that I stammer and stutter,
Spluttering out my feeble little plea
Please Mr devil sir, tonight just let me be..
Tonight just let me sleep, let me drift into dreams
Please don’t follow me and turn this gift into screams!
Stuck again in this present tense situation
With his unwanted presence
My acquiescence,
And unwavering consternation
Same old conversation,
That never concludes
Whether I engage or not, I do not get to choose
I do not get to snooze
I just lose
Tick tick tick the hours slip away
I hear it second hand as he counts down every minute
This devil’s level of detail pushing me to my limit
Pushing me to admit that tonight he might just win it,
Fuck it…
I give up
Theres no point in persevering
All these decibels make my ears ring
I toss and I turn but I still hear him
No glossing over the burning of my glazed eyes stinging,
As his shrill voice singes my cochlea
Singing his sweet serenade as my renegade heart palpitates a beat to this endless rendition called..insomnia
Oh if I could only get some sleep..
I can’t get no sleep…
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Black dog
There’s a lone black dog locked out in the cold
His chain rattling against the pole staked deep
Pacing in circles, dawn to dusk an imprisoned sundial
His shadow snaps at weary ankles
As he ponders how bad a dog he must be.
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