I Slept Through It All

Love is like a blindfold
I touch, without seeing, I feel everything
And I can't see myself
Getting old
(Older)
Somehow not, so much bolder
As I was before
In another country
With some other girl (?)
Was it just a dream
Or a memory
If not one, then the other
Make me wonder then, love
Humor me.
If this, too, is a dream
Or a memory?

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There is a stop and go method of reading poems. See if you can make this one sing in your head.

Days In Office

I come to office on a Monday
Leave every Friday
(Sometimes they call me on Saturday too)
Just Sunday is mine
Which I spend in anticipation of Monday

I've been told,
(By experts)
That there are other days
Like Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday
But I refuse to believe them
Unless they show me empirical evidence
With excel sheets and progress reports
And graphs made into pie charts
Which I will pretend to understand

Still I wonder where do Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday go.
In the boss' ass perhaps

The Silence

In a second the lights are out
No more click clacks
Sudden darkness
Silent people
Then,
From a gap in the curtains
A sliver of a dying sun
It pierces through
Illuminating the skin on my hand
I look at it
And suddenly
My eyes are full of tears
What the fuck am i doing here?
While a beautiful sun sets outside
But then the lights are on
The chatter resumes
Keyboards start clickclacking again
There are deadlines to be met
Projects reports to be delivered
Excel Sheets to be filled
I should be thrilled
But I miss the sliver of sunlight
I miss the fight
I used to fight
I miss myself
In this bright artificial light.

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Office had a powercut for a minutes today. That inspired this poem.
I am writing lot of office themed poems, I don't know why, but this is what I want to write, for now.

The Keyboard :: A Poem

Were these the most precious years of my life?
That I just wasted typing 26 letters and few symbols
My fingers run like magic on this keyboard
And i forget my dad's birthday

Things went by too fast, I couldn't make them last
There is a lot that I left behind
I'm in the future, seeking rewind
What is gone, now it can't come back

It makes me sad to think
Why I wasn't thinking then
There is a lot I could have done and said
But I just typed all my anger away

The funny thing is that it doesn't hurt any more
Just a silent resignation of will and desire
What is my problem, i am not even sure
But i am looking for a spark to rekindle the fire

Then, maybe
I'll get a rocking chair
And watch the fire burn
To warm my old knees
On which I will place this keyboard
And type my old age away
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It's a disjointed poem. If you also earn your livelihood by mashing your fingers in a keyboard, isn't it time we did something new?

The Thief :: A Poem

Reached office few minutes early today
Someone has stolen my chair again
Makes me wonder about the people here
Do they even know the meaning of fear?

This is deeply disturbing
I don't have a chair anymore
Where will i sit when working
I am not at all sure

Maybe I should get out of this place
Go some place where no one knows me
Disappear here and never show them my face
But i've not reached that level of insanity

So I steal someone's chair and wait for a change
A change that will help me re-arrange
All that is wrong and all that is right
Get a fixed chair and end the daily fight

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This feels pretty stupid once i have written but I never said that I was too smart.

A Poem Of Bitterness

Dreams of falling, dreams of flying
Dreams of fucking, dreams of crying
In some dreams i'm really happy
In some dreams i'm fucking dying

When I wake up I sometimes scream
Try to grasp the slippery tail of a dream
Hold it, explore it, dismember
Something to make me remember

The tension weights heavy on me
I can't unsee the things I see
I am just a dark shadow
Of the dude I used to be

There will be only bitterness in the end
We all will fall and fail to defend
The Tank of Death is awesomer than shit
We just can't, just can't stop it

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There is no word called awesomer, it is, but a synonym for tank.

The Burn

It's really simple
We all need to burn
With the fire that only we know
We need to turn, the tide

There is no other way
To find some kind of salvation
Except to light a fire
Under the ass of this nation

The nation is all of us
It is me, them and you
We need to get the fuck up
Before we realize its not true

Realize the lies
This is all a dream
Just keep alive the fire
And be ready to scream

This is war
A silent war in violent streets
Fought in minds of men
Where anger breeds

Wake up
Wake up
Wake up
Wake up

And burn.
Bright like the sun.

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Our generation has no real war but our war is spiritual. Survival is our war.