Heart crawlers

They come out of hiding, 
appear to be abiding,
searching not, but begging for place,
place not in house, but in heart,
they are into impostering like an art,

you avoid them at start,
but end up dealing,
you look for their wounds,
wounds they have decorated,
to catch your attention,
without even a fleeting mention,
in the conversations
which involve your silences
and their stories,
your copy-paste OKs and their overdose of sorries,

you give them place,
a place in your heart,
still confused
whether as a gift of love or a loan of sympathy,

and the problem starts the moment they take it,
they try to make it something of their own,
making you forget the heartbeats you own,
they start coaxing you for more space,
you give them an inch more,
they bargain for square feets,
they nail you on your weak nerves,
even blackmail if it serves.

Broken soul

I don’t sneeze anymore,
cough is now settled in chest,
it keeps pushing the heart to retire and rest.

Search for outside warmth stops at the coffee cup,
and shoulders often catch cold.

Slow beats try to mock a relaxed vibe,
as empty weekly diary coaxes the clock to accept the bribe.

Thoughts prefer to retire in mind,
voice prefers to leave words behind,
burps and farts seldom make out with silence.

World has shown show many colors,
that eyes now find recluse in dark,
curtained windows have learnt to renounce thousand suns.

Line between memories and this moment blurs,
memories flash as moment flickers,
its a chaotic pendulum ride,
with good times on mind and empty home inside.

Sands of time

sand was slipping through the fist,

the creases webbing the palm,

had decieved the destiny,

dreams waiting in depths,

saw the sand escape,

trampling them….

scarred fists learnt,

time never returns,

sands escaped,

to merge in dunes,

be picked up by another insane,

thinking time can be held to ransom…

Imposters

In world of preconceived notions,
faces hiding emotions,
have now started,
bluffing them too.

A perfectly rehearsed body language,
offering a patronising shake,
but the disturbed palm doesn’t lie.

Their hugs carry less warmth,
shoulders still own the cold vibe,
as cheeks miss the kisses in hurry.

They moist their lips,
in pool of tears.
They borrow saliva,
as their throats have run dry,
from overnight rains.

But they forget,
a paint job,
can cover wounds from outside,
but not heal from within.

World & it’s ways

command disguised as advise,

dream dismissed as reverie,

failure misunderstood as a person,

innovation abandoned as impractical,

introversion mystified as arrogance,

respect trampled as fear,

original criticised as dated,

greed marketed as ambition,

backstabbing complimented as business sense,

fear sold as insurance,

colour distinguised as species,

species hunted as hobby.

Truth – real or a claim?

they claim it’s real,
then try to prove it,

they claim it has a distinct colour,
then use it as water
giving the colour their tongues carry,

they claim it’s bitter
then sugarcoat it for use,

they claim that at the end it triumphs,
then fall short of patience,

they claim it’s fearless,
then hire lawyers to defend it,

they claim it’s the only one,
then hardsell versions to the world,

Maybe truth is just a claim
and not a fact….

Attempt to confess

there were many attempts before
but coquetry never riped into a confession
anxiety climbed up the walls of time to reach obsession
her hope was at a point of no return
fire that lit her life was also making her burn

then the day came and…

collarbones pushed her throat to voice her love,
tongue was ready to slip the distance
and reach his heart
but lips stiched themselves
a mumble did manage to jump off the tongue
before being tamed by the noises..

Looking back at life

Mind was tutored to set targets,
and be in a hurry to chase them,
when one was achieved, another came,
life reeled on an auto mode,
setting out to make new mistakes, but never repeat them,

The rush was engaging at first,
and addictive later on,
life was either being far or near to the goal,
but never saw the present moment roll,

Timelines beaten,Goals achieved,
made accolades the redeeming moments
but a thing was missing,
What sounded mellifluous was hissing,
was life only about a goal?
left with few hands to shake
fewer shoulders to lean on
feet had forgotten the careese of morning grass,
eyes didn’t remember what sunrise looked like,

Were the medals, certificates worth the sacrifice ?
Sacrifice of…
relationships that could have healed,
tender moments that could melt the heart,
opportunities to experience life beyond goals,
perspective to see life as a whole,

Stuccess came but with myopia,
neck was decorated with medals
but hands were empty,
life becoming a prisoner of success,
just forgot to breathe free…