Words

They say that

where there is smoke

there is fire.

 

They say that

where there is a will

there’s a way.

But I don’t care

what they say anymore,

It’s not their call,

I have repainted the idioms

and they are drying under the sun-

Words that stare at me

imbued with new meanings.

 

They say, they say,

they say, that’s all they could ever do.

But now I say and I stick by my words.

And my words don’t lie.

Roads

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Two roads diverged

and I met someone at the crossroads,

the meeting fleeting

like the flash of headlights

of a car passing;

And  my dilemma

was no longer about the path

that I have to take

but the person I encountered.

 

Two roads diverged

And I met someone at the crossroads,

the meeting fleeting

like the flash of headlights

of a car passing;

Among the  blood-soaked leaves

my voice box lay out of place-

The mouth organ that cannot play.

 

Two roads diverged

And I met someone at the crossroads,

the meeting fleeting,

the flash of headlights

of a car passing;

And I was nearly killed

by someone I love.

Secrets

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She broke the news, I was surprised.

I didn’t feel betrayed, but detached,

as if I were staring at her through a glass wall.

I should have known that with each passing second

secrets are formed, locked, and buried

only to surface like corpses washed ashore.

 

It was a happy occasion but I was morose,

I had to grudgingly admit that

One could never really know a person,

And that everything I didn’t know

And would never know would only grow

like weeds amidst pasture.

Hopeless

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I get down from the bus sighing,

Conscious of the sweat on my clothes

And what’s to come in a few worthless

Hours. I turn to look at the departing bus,

The years I had squandered faded

With the smoke and dust.

 

My discoloured Penny Loafers make no sound

As they plod on the rain-polished road

My handbag dangles from my shoulder

Empty save for a bottle of moisturizer,

And a hundred rupee note, enough

For another job application.

 

Ahead a streetlamp burns out

And I become acutely aware of the eyes

Of the the men that linger on my silhouette.

I hurry towards the next streetlamp

Desperate for a light to dispel the darkness

Both inside and outside, a damp

Wind blows and I shiver, afraid;

Insecure of what’s to come

In a few worthless minutes.

 

I muster my draining energy

And dash to my apartment, happy

To be home for my last night there.

The next day was another beginning:

Twenty four worthless hours and more

To lose myself in self-pity and depression:

A morbid adventure designed for the hopeless.

The Woods Of The Forsaken

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The echo of a child’s scream

rang clear in the woods.

The trees huddled together

whispering secrets of the horrors

that lurked underneath their canopy.

Fresh blood dripped from the leaves,

the dregs of a massacre

onto the rocks below,

the stench rising in the air crazed

the beasts with the dark eyes.

A pair of footfalls could be heard,

that of another abandoned child:

The prelude to the scream.