redemption in a death rattle melodious, maybe

on this little stand next to my stove

all my cutlery hangs from four hooks

it has three tablespoons and three forks

crude instruments- practical, coarse

three teaspoons and three knives

all self-effacing in the day’s light

yet if the window’s open on breezy nights

they double as my wind chimes

and chiming lead me to believe  

that there may still be hope for me

if only i can find on nights like these

the right place to be, suspended in the breeze

and all that time comes to naught

you stood across the crowded room from me

straight backed elegant in your cotton saree

a few strands stylishly tousled your grey hair in a bun

mellow skin luminescent form the summers in the sun

and time fell by the side a meaningless artifact redundant

the flowing stream frozen still motionless resplendent

and gushing into the gap that carefully i had nurtured

furnished with markers adorned with milestones fractured

came memories rushing that for years away i’d safely stored

that could’ve been from yesterday or even the moment before

like one awaking from a dream of reality is unsure

as time guileful tricks gullible memory to perjure

and staying coherent at such times can then be exceedingly tough

so forgive me if i came across as slightly messed up

on a windy night on the terrace

we sat staring at the city’s lights

huddled against the cold

i took her hand and rubbed it

on my shaven head a day old

like velcro. i liked the feel of her hand

and didn’t know what else to say

reminds me of my dad’s cheeks

when he’d kiss us and i’d push him away

don’t worry, give it a week and

it’ll be like a dog’s head to touch

nice and soft, like a dachshund maybe.

she didn’t like her father much

after the formal feeling

and after the formal feeling the pain returns

the nerves like incandescent filaments burn

the heart wrung out wonders

how he’d even for a moment thought

that the pain could be left behind, forgot

eyes wide in a silent scream strident

the lips pursed, watch each moment

drag out in frozen seconds fractioned

lost in thoughts that can find no traction

torpid in volcanic bouts of screeching torment

like rescued persons who should’ve died

the realization of having survived

pours into the heart like molten lead

the tantalizing promise of solace not kept

the singeing misery of a cheated death

to be borne in all the time yet left

....................................................
after great pain, by emily dickinson

formidable life-truth

emotions are fickle
people are lame
shit happens
who's to blame?

other worlds

let's swap

beds

so you’re forced to mop

the floor

spreading out the thin mattress

before

you lay yourself down

to sleep

for you keep

complaining

about how you never get to

cleaning

your room too big your shelves

too many

i assure you

mine’s tiny

let's switch

loos

i’ll show you which

pot

to take the water in when it’s

your slot

and the mysteries of the cold

the hot

you can explain to me 

the puzzle

that is you shower

the drizzle

the mist spray

and the wonders of the 

adjustable

bidet

let's barter

friends

i could use a chartered

flight

get from bangalore to brazil

overnight

but what will you do with

mine

with a transgender

transvestite

let's borrow

each other’s dreams, for with

sorrows

of a battered ego i can

deal

and you can figure how

to sleep

when the baby

her skin wrinkled on her bony arms

begins to weep

let's trade

worlds

you’ve made

the most of the

mould

that was given you

while i sold my

soul

for what could i

do

if mine came

with thorns 
nailed 
through

substance abuse

who needs sleep

when you got caffeine

and nicotine

to help you concentrate

or at any rate

get you through the day

survive the fray

that is your workplace

and for solace

there’s always

alcohol on friday nights

when the lights

can be dimmed

and the full brimmed

mugs you drink

drown your worries

as the smoke carries

away thoughts

of an existence lost.

until monday

slightly messed up

i’ve already put out the lights

but i must remember to go shut the drawer

and put away the scattered letters before i go to bed

letters from a woman who doesn’t want me anymore

a tight little cluster of stars

moves across the sky. ya, i’m a little high

it’s a plane flying low and i can almost hear

the sound of its dull rolling thunder if i try

it leaves the silver oak quaking its leaves aflutter

and me caressing the smooth blue lighter

which i switched for mine; a keepsake, stolen

from another woman who doesn’t want me either

there are others too, but let it be, who’s

ever gained from scratching ugly welts

or picking bloody scabs. and cutting open  
veins in neat longitudinal cuts makes little sense

they come tumbling over each other

tonight the words too disregard me

just leaving my lips like shapeless smoke

that a draught carries down the street

and as my head spins i keep seeing my picture

on this poster that says in bold brackets

a well formed human body, male

is up for sale, do you want it?

use me

do you feel used when i ask you out for a walk

or shamelessly flirt when i talk to you?

forgive me, for i indulge myself, and 

please feel free to use me too

who knows why?

when i scale the wall

of a locked swimming pool  
and stand staring at the shimmering 
lights before i jump

it’s you that i’ll think of
for a long time to come

and as in the cold starless night

the first trembling notes are strum

mingled with the music sad

thoughts of you will come

unbidden

and memories hidden

are bound to overwhelm me

and leave me feeling numb

for a long time to come

and every time

i think of going back

to the prettiest place 
on earth that i know

it will be, for a long time 
with you that i'd want to go

when the wind drives fluffy white clouds

across a vast sky inky black

and the sheer immensity of space

weighs down upon by back

unmitigated

and the time i’m fated

to yet suffer seems unbearable

to miserable pain will i helplessly succumb

and revel in your longing for a long time to come

why you? well, who knows?

all i know is that it’s pointless

looking around, trying to find someone else

for i know that another i cannot love

and it’s going to be that way 
for a long time to come

how long though can i distract myself?

keep running away and seek solace elsewhere

or pick up my paintbrush and pretend i don’t care

hide my feelings under murky layers

in vain

for the pain

itself is just a distraction

and in the end it’ll all come to naught

the battle lost just because it was fought

for who knows what we live for?

at least for now

your longing justifies my time here

keeps me occupied
gives me raison d’etre, some

and so i’ll long for you 
for a long long time to come