If writing was as easy,

Like the blinking of eye,
like a subtle kiss goodbye

Like breathing while in slumber
Or getting a stranger's number.

Like two plus two makes four,
Or the girl you most adore.

Like the hand moves round the clock,
Like there is no "writer's block".

If only it was as easy,
Then every word, I'd squeeze it
out,
And like a wizard's spell
Every day, of every poem,
To the world I'd tell.

-

If there is one thing I've learnt in life,
and I think you should know.

I've let go a lot, to learn.

And I've learnt a lot, to let go.

-

From the ashes,
born again.
Free from pain,
and suffering.
Call me KING!
No, Kings last only
as long as sanity
kills them slowly.
Look who's having the last laugh!
Looks who's not crying anymore!
You can call me 'Joker’,
my jokes no more mediocre.
From a tragedy, to a comedy -
the trail no less bloody.

Don’t you get it?
If it were for me,
you’d all be dead!
The truth and the lies.
Perfectly blurred lines.
But then again,
you won’t get it.
The joke, perfect,
in my head.

-

The same moon whose mockery,
cost him dearly.
And the other blokes on the train?
well, they asked for it,
clearly!
And then it hit me.
The jester, set free.
The music in my head,
never sounded this sweet.
Oh, the mad rush
the chaos
I can't seem to stop my feet!
Onward and upward,
none shall I spare.
Oh, you see me now?
Oh, now you care?

-

"Smile!"
"Put on a happy face!"
"You're so funny!"
Oh, honey!
If only you’d make home
my lonely place,
my shrine.
Then you'd know that
all along
you were with me, in me.
All along,
you were mine.
That lonesome love
that exists,
around the same axis
that centers my moon.
The moon whose gaze,
like a perfectly still reflection,
In a blink,
would become my own!

-

Smile!


Would you get it?
That touch of impure love,
that silence after every joke?
The teary grin, that painted face
the laughter of tears,
Or that breathless choke?
A childhood of lies,
torment and abuse.
“He was always a happy child!”
Happy. Sad. I know not.
Dazed, confused,
of pain and bruise,
away from this misery
my mind sought it’s recluse.

-

As cold metal traces,
It's sharp edge leaving behind a trail
As it bleeds out it's every last drop,
You bleed, on a canvas so pale
Black.
From a place cold, deep within
packed with thoughts,
of Love, Sorrow, & Doubt
And as the last blot is blot,
placing the commas, and the dots
You have cried out a river
A eulogy,
A love letter,
A sonnet, of err and like no other.

-

ಐವತ್ತು,ಅರವತ್ತು,ಎಪ್ಪತ್ತು
ಬದುಕುಳಿದರೆ ಸಾಕಷ್ಟು.
ಎಂಬತ್-ತೊಂಬತ್ತರ ಮಾಗು
ಪರಮೇಶನಿಚ್ಛಿದರೆ ಸಾಗು.

ಜೀವನದ ಹೋರಾಟ
ಹೋರಾಡಿ, ವೀರನೇ
ಕಾಲ ಬಂದಾಗ ತೀರು
ಆಗಸದಾಚಿನ ಕಡಳ ಸೇರು.

ಅವಗೊಮ್ಮೆ ಹಿಂದಿರುಗಿ
ನೋಡಿನ್ನೊಂದು ಕೊನೆಯ ಬಾರಿ.
ಇದೇ,
ನೀ ನಡೆದು ಬಂದ ದಾರಿ.

-

ನಡೆದು ಬಂದ ದಾರಿ

ಮೂರರ ಪ್ರಾಯ,
ಮುದ್ದು ಕಂದಮ್ಮನ ಕಣ್ಣಿಗೆ
ಕಂಡದೆಲ್ಲ ಮಾಯ.

ಹತ್ತ್ಹನ್ನೆರಡರ ಪ್ರಾಯ,
ಆಟ-ಪಾಠ,
ಮನೆ, ಮರ, ಮಠವೆಲ್ಲ
ಓಡಾಡಿ ಮಾಡ್ಕೊಂಡ ಗಾಯ.

ಹದಿನೆಂಟರ ಪ್ರಾಯ,
ಹದಿಹರೆಯದ ಯೌವನಾಕರ್ಷಣೆ.
ಚಿಗುರಿದ ಮೀಸೆಯಂತೆ
ಚಿಗುರುವ ಪ್ರೇಮ-ಪ್ರಣಯ.

ಇಪ್ಪತ್ತೈದರಿಂದ ಒಂದು ದಶಕ,
ಮದುವೆ-ಸಂಸಾರ-ಕಾಯಕ
ನಲವತ್ತರ ಹಿರಿಮೆ,
ಕುಟುಂಬ-ಮಕ್ಕಳು-ದುಡಿಮೆ.

-

I've been meaning to find,

Comfort in the pouring rain
Seeking pleasure amidst all pain

The Dahlia blooming in barren land,
A river free, flowing in the desert sand

A lone wolf in a herd of sheep,
A lost cause you've found to keep.

A prayer that would wake the dead,
Roses sans the thorns, spread o'er my bed

I've been meaning to find
greater life, in all its meaning
Little did I know,
it's all bout finding
a greater meaning
in the littlest of life.

-