On A Smoky Evening

come here
and sit with me darling
I'm going to tell you things
that have been on my mind
it's after two
(as always)
and a lady from YouTube is singing jazz in my ears
some whiskey would be good right now
but I've only got music and memories
I've got accident stories
of kisses, misses, wishes
of things I should have done by now
is that why I am listening to blues
so late at night
when it just feels oh so right
the dog of memories
barks silently, but oh, does it bite!
I've been looking at my lists darling
there are things I need to watch and read
and if I could catch my thoughts from straying
like some pissed off cowboy made of failures
i swear there's some serendipity at work
some ancient clock ticking same for us both
i swear there's some magic in the air
that makes me glad we're under the same moon
i had to say a lot of things darling,
but, soon.

--
Edit* yeah, there was a typo in the title, but we live and learn. 

sliver

from a tiny little hole
a sliver of light
a sign of hopeful paranoia
something to get me through the night
might be a bit sad
to be stuck in this muck
could be a bit mad
to feel like a thousand bucks
shucks!
writing poems in this format
like shitty three chord rock songs
even if you don't know the rhythm
you'll know how to sing along
and even if the beat screws up
you won't get the lyrics wrong
and we'll pass responsibilities
like a game of pinging pong
everyone in the world is right
Ii'm the only fool that's wrong
maybe I should go apprentice
in the cave of Dr. Dong
now this poem makes no sense
it's become more like a song
wait, I rhymed that earlier
is that allowed or is that wrong?

I should stop
while I'm on top

---
Ok, look I started writing this last night. First paragraph is from then, next lines are from now. Mood varies, so does the poem.

a million

it would take me
only a second
to think of a million horrible things
that I'd do
if only I could
get my hands on you
because I've thought
and I've thought
I've made lists in my head
I've perfected my methods till they shine
and I've tied off every imperfect thread
now all I've left is this
a ticking clock and waiting
I'll wait as long as I can
for what am i
if not a patient man

--
I just feel like writing threatening poems these days. I don't care.

it kneels

imagine if you could
the feeling of power
complete
absolute
when you have a god
a literal fucking living god
kneeling
right there
scuffing the ground with its knees
a god, wheedling,
for a chance at forgiveness
for what sins
who the fuck cares
who the fuck even remembers
but the moment is here
in all its glory and fear
just breathe it in
and hold
hold hold
hold
till you feel bold
enough
for exactly this kind of stuff
as its tears wash the barrel of your gun
take a look at the rising sun
the fireball is getting bigger
what are you waiting for, man?
pull the fucking trigger

the nail

if a storm brews in a team cup
do the mountains steep out rain?
butterfly wings and tornados
all reside in shadows

where does the light go
when we switch off the sun
inside the refrigerator
the door shuts the fun

the goblins are partying again
inside the washing machine
silent as mice, double as nice
they dance in their dreams

and here i sit
the king of idiots
with a nail stuck through my foot
did i step on it or hammer it in?

--
This day is like a fist in the face of everything pious and pure.

sleep and other maladies

i should've been woke,
woke as fuck
but i sleep with my eyes open
a sitting duck

world moves around me
a blurred contraception
i spin sitting in place
a totem in my own inception

when i dare open my eyes
at times i feel so sick
i just want to lie down back
in my pod in some matrix

i will watch the world go by
as civilization crumble, men die
i will wake up in a thousand years or two
maybe i'll wake up with

---
sleep is a problem in these troubled times.

तलाश

मैं अपने मन के जंगल में 

हूँ ढूंढ़ रहा एक कविता को 

कुछ सुनी हुई, कुछ देखी सी 

कुछ भूली सी, अनलेखी सी 

भाग कर थक सा गया हूँ 

लेकिन मन में एक इच्छा है 

एक पंक्ति, एक शब्द, एक लय 

एक नयी कविता की तृष्णा है

हर पत्ती और हर वृक्ष से 

अब पूछ पूछ कर चलता हू 

देखा है मेरी कविता को?

या शायद कुछ सुना ही हो 

छाया मातम इस जंगल में 

सब फसे हुए इस दंगल में 

और मेरी कविता सरसराती

अब घूम रही है मंगल पे 

--

I probably suck at writing Hindi poems. But since when has sucking at something stopped me from doing it? 

escape

every question
is a loaded gun
the answers
bullets for one

dig into an open wound
just to bleed for fun
and if they try to stop you
darling, better run

run till the blood is gone
and you're far away from here
till you're empty and alone
till you're free from all the fear

if you stop to take a breath
you will catch up with the pain
you better start moving
before you start to bleed again

--
silly lil fuckin poem

but, we all run.

the shards

take something broken
douse it with glue
but the cracks still show
some of them will never go away

with microscopic intensity
prepare, repair, despair
even if you join a torn thread
the knot will always be there

take all these shards
grind them into dust
throw them in the air
and please, breathe it in

these cracks are like memories
nails in the coffin of time
you scrub my skin till I bleed
but we can't get rid of the grime

--
what a useless day and a useless poem

where did this one come from

I have no idea

the circle

perfect paranoia
digital infection
dreams drag the dying
into a sleepless reaction
keys are like bees
flitting from word to word
rounding them all up in a circle
no name for this herd
it's 3 AM again
the timelines are all over places
imaginations infected
by the visions of diagrams of faces
so, come Monday
say hello to me
while I am too busy sleeping