I never asked anyone to be my friend,
I didn’t even ask for a glimpse of it;
So when they came and left me all alone,
I should’ve been okay with my wounded feelings.
I’ve been beat and betrayed before,
I’ve judged the scope of every new love,
I couldn’t stomach the need for friends;
Most of them leave or remain loose ends.
I’ve agonized my need for friends,
I’ve betrayed my heart by zoning out;
I don’t think it can ever work out,
I don’t think friends can stay for all and out.
I wish for friends and I hate to want it,
Because in the end it’s all my loss, that’s all;
If I let them in, they will destroy me;
If I block them out, I’ll subside.
There’s no room for hope in my world,
I only bet on my own real chances;
But feelings are hard to deal with,
No hope or persistence can make them happen.
So, maybe I’ve caving in,
Not risking out on conceptual beliefs;
But there’s no backup for the time wasted,
On conceptual proclamations of self-belief.
So here goes this little poem,
To whoever cares to give it a read;
I’m done believing in make-believe,
And I’m done pretending it matters to me.
Because now it’s too late to keeping asking for it,
And it’s too illogical to expect the same;
So in the cataclysm I’ve shaped in my head,
I’m going ahead with facing reality instead.
We met by the rocks,
You said those were teardrops,
I said you were wrong,
I don’t see your wall,
The one that protects your beautiful faults,
I know that it’s false.
So when we’re together, forget about it all,
All that you protect behind that wall;
I don’t see your fears and doubts and falls,
I see only the wine glasses that we hold,
They’re red but you’re so blue, oh no.
Maybe you’ve been in the wrong place for long,
And you’ve lost faith in love;
Maybe the lights took off the storm,
Maybe you don’t trust me the way I long for.
Please turn back to me,
And I’ll tell you it’s all okay;
You know I’ll love you,
I wish you understood me that way.
If it’s there it’ll be there,
If it’s not, we’ll go our ways;
But for now I need you,
And I hope someday you would too.
Featured Image – A still from
Bright Star (2009)
If the world is non-existent,
It’ll be an answer to
The unasked questions;
Like ‘why are we here?’
‘What are we?’
It doesn’t make sense,
But why should it?
The world doesn’t owe us anything;
We are just minuscule creatures,
Who think the universe is our problem,
Along with the homework that’s due tomorrow.
The same box fits us all,
Inside with the planets and the stars and the galaxies;
And we like to think the universe is giving us signs,
To meet another minuscule creature in our lives,
To write poems, sing songs and to dance,
To work and study and make a new art,
To invent, observe and discover,
To exist, in a non-existent world.
Featured Image –
I saw a glimmer once,
It shone like a lost gem in my backpack,
Lost in the darkness around it,
It bore resemblance to a star.
There was nothing else around
That little glimmer,
Not another star
To be it’s friend.
And so lived that little glimmer,
Alone in the lost darkness,
It didn’t seem to wonder
About what else can glimmer instead.
‘Alone but not lost’,
It seemed like an unwritten motto,
‘To go on and be your own light’,
In the nebulous dark hole.
So glimmer on,
Be your own little glimmer,
Shine with your hopes,
And light your path.
Featured Image –
The moon doesn’t get annoyed
With the usual ups and downs of life,
It keeps on going with the flow,
It doesn’t trivialize about the non-existent.
The moon doesn’t waste time,
It waxes and wanes when it should;
It shines with the same luminosity,
It doesn’t waver like people do.
The moon doesn’t get bored,
It doesn’t just stand still and let time pass;
It understands the meaning of reality,
It knows the importance of time.
Then how are we better than the moon?
We never captured the essence of time like it could,
We never do things like we should,
We are not diligent or true.
But the moon,
It knows what the wisest man couldn’t;
So I keep looking at the moon,
And learn all that I could.
Featured Image – Cover of ‘Who Built The Moon?’ by Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds
To me, ‘older love’ refers to the innate meaning of love we are all born knowing. With that reference, I wrote the following poem. Enjoy! 🙂
I made promises to my older love,
The one I’ve never met,
To love with all of my heart,
To love like it’s the best I’ve ever felt.
I didn’t understand before,
What it might feel like,
To love beyond meaning,
For someone to mean more than life.
My older love was conceptual,
Abstract and inexplicable;
So I just took it as lessons,
On loving beyond the ineffable.
And that’s how I fell
In love with myself;
I learnt to pick up my pieces,
And be whole again.
I finally learnt to love,
My older love taught me well;
And slowly balance came,
Everything fell in place again.
A short poem on my love for handwritten words (which I’ve, ironically, typed here). Enjoy! 🙂
I prefer handwritten words,
To the typed neatness;
I prefer ink blotches,
To serif fonts.
I prefer handwritten letters,
To the stolid business ones;
Maybe it’s just my style,
Maybe handwritings convey more than just words.
It can be sweet and tragic,
Or sad and morose;
It conveys the conceptual beliefs,
That I never knew existed before.
So that’s why I like handwritten words,
More than the printed stoic leaves;
To me handwritten words are like
A mermaid giving life to the sea.
And I like seeing the pages
Take life, as if it’s natural
For words to conveys feelings;
Handwritten words are supernatural.