The Quest for Understanding
Beyond the glitter of simmering stars and celestial bodies;
lie an understanding that many are reluctant to find.
On the surface, there are the noted textures, shades and colors;
but few read the messages on the sign.
Every shutter drawn, conceals an event, a mood, an interest.
And some where between the objective and subjective world;
distortion outwits reality, and commonality is lost.
Out of the layers of spiral design, past experience is unfurled.
And because reality was left behind;
misunderstanding was the cost.
And though you and I have walked this path before;
You, on one side, and I, on the other.
After awhile, the scenes becomes a bore.
And neither, one of us, bothers,
to look anymore.
In the depth of the ocean deep,
dwell creators unknown.
Within each discovery,
lies cryptic jewels, to be owned.
Each silent tear,
beseeches an emotion, to be bold.
And each lauded cheer,
represses a fear to be scrolled.
Yet, amidst the seen and the unseen;
fallacy overcomes the truth,
and verisimilitude is born.
Generosity may result in a devious scheme.
A contented sigh, may be a quenched mourn.
For you and I,
know what we know;
and only what,
we choose to show.
At least we agree on that.
The Ring
Stop it…and get to it! Ring!
Don't you have better timing? Ring!
I know .. And it was about time too! Ring!
What took you so long, anyway? Ring!
I have been waiting way too long for you, you know! Ring!
What was that? Ring!
I don't want to hear it! Ring!
You did what?! Ring!
Changed! Ring!
What change? Ring!
Oh no…I can't believe my ears! Ring!
Are you mad? Ring!
You must have really lost it!? Ring!
I have to do what? Ring!
I don't want to wait! Ring!
Then give it to me now! Ring!
What do you mean you can't? Ring!
This can't be happening! Ring!
What am I suppose to do 'till then? Ring!
I am no longer interested in anymore of your silly excuses! Ring!
What do I want? Ring!
I want you to give me another - Click!
Through the windows of the soul
a lover's tale was told
Past and Destiny embraced
scenes from a dreamer's face.
Before a heart-beat begins
before a church-bell rings
memories of another dance
gives fathom meaning to a glance.
Deja vous
I feel I know you from a forgotten dream,
a different temple, in another time.
But though, we pass each other by;
I sense that we are more,
than mere acquaintances.
With the infinity of a stream,
our souls have met and entwine,
somewhere beyond this sky,
perhaps a little more,
experiencing this very instance.
Trust …no guarantee
For so very long, I've bee lying to you,
and lying to myself.
Now things have changed,
and I have too.
You say, "I don't know."
For so long, I've been hurting you.
You demand some guarantee.
Who do you believe?
Your friends have all told you,
what they think of me.
They say, I'm not worthy,
I'm not worth the pain.
Well, "no pain, no gain,"
"no tears, no cheers."
I can give you no guarantee.
Who do you believe?
You want to know,
if I will be true to you?
Well, so far,
I have broken no vows.
For I know you think,
I've jumped when opportunity called.
I can't change your mind.
for you believe, you are right.
So here is your guarantee.
Who do you believe?
Believe me when I tell you,
that I can promise you now.
Believe me when I tell you,
that there aren't guarantees.
Do not be fooled,
with ads that say they do.
For with each oath written in colorful prints;
there lies beneath a warning sign.
And with it comes disappointments too!
I can't make guarantees on what is not mine.
Nor will I make wooden promises,
nor give you a line.
The meaning of life,
though it may seem inconceivable to me,
is to take chances, knowing you may,
perhaps fail, some day;
to prove to everyone,
that they can be wrong,
and never live your life on guarantees.
Now who do you believe?
Sadness
Sadness follows me around -
in my nightmares and in my fantasies.
She hangs on my arm and whispers depression in my ear.
She invites Bitterness and Loneliness to fill my days.
She is jealous of my other friends
and bitches when she is ignored.
But our friendship is unwavering and ageless,
and she has never been unfaithful.
She soothes me with her songs of dispairs,
and purged me with her tears of anquish;
so that my troubles are forgotten.
She has followers abound -
worshipers obedient to her demands,
revered by her simplicity and they awed to be near.
They built her shrines of solid gold,
and embellish them with pearls.
They write songs in her name,
and mourn beloved praises for her sake.
She gets V.I.P passes for all their functions,
and is never present when not invited.
She adores their attention,
and encourage their devotion.
Until all infidelities are forgiven.
Fall leaves
Ever so slowly, the leaves would fall -
so gently, it touches, the solid ground.
Feather-like sea, of golden leaves -
drift along, the lonely streets,
caressing banks, and pavement marks -
as it makes, its way toward, the city parks.
But will it reaches, its journey end,
for man will, stop it, yet again.
The Inner Cry
While you rest your head upon my lap,
I looked within your eyes.
I'm so afraid to acknowledge,
the guilt I feel inside.
In the moment you close,
those doteful blinds,
I'm given a wider space to hide.
For you are safer in your oblivsion,
you see not my lies.
While you feel the gentle caress,
of my hand against your cheeks.
You no longer question eyes,
that reveal the ruthlessness of deceit.
Yet when you kiss me,
draw me closer in your loving embrace;
I lose all sense of consciousness,
and all my uncertainties - erased.
You are right to be angry when my cowardice starts,
for the lips sometimes misunderstands,
what the mind says for the heart.
So while you chant those ageless words,
be prepare to see them fall -
fall on this deaf ear,
hopelessly unheard.
For it is all the same.
You will never know unless you play the game.
Don't be too anxious to know,
what lies within the fathom buried soul;
for you may be smeared,
in the blackness of coal.
"Three strikes and you are out!"
How can you be so final -
When you don't know what I'm about?
For you are far too altruistic,
just let me be - free.
While you sit there,
and shed warm tears,
for someone who may not be real;
you may be festering,
wounds that should healed.
Try telling her your demands,
brfor you need to be assured.
Fate is a bitch -
to let you fall for someone so unsure.
The After Thought
Stay there and hurt me.
Don't say anything,
that might cause you any strain.
I know what it would be.
your false words,
will only cause me more pain.
You may sit with judgmental expectance.
What so you want now?
Maybe I should have shown more reluctance -
Was I too willing to allow?
Is it so wrong to do something,
and still have regret in doing it.
Will I be forever chastised for this sin,
be forever tainted, de-framed as a nitwit.
You once said you loved me.
But now you only laugh with annoying over confidence.
Was I so blind not to see -
That out time together held no precedence.
Your eyes no longer burn with an inviting flame.
They scorch the delicate inner-lining of my body,
And overwhelms me with so much shame,
For this love is now a mere a parody.
The Victim
He inflicted his abused,
and deprave eyes upon me.
And reluctantly drawn,
I glanced at him.
My mind numbed,
rejected and conflicted with my heart -
torn and shredded apart.
There was no room for more tears,
in his eyes.
Why should there be?
When his pleads had dried
all his cries.
I was compelled to accept this assault.
And why not -
when all his days were spent,
being at fault.
But then he smiled,
and like the blossoms of spring,
sprung new hope across the mirage of his face,
in the prospect of our new beginning.
Sands of Time
Tiny grains of sand drop silently,
as the second hand moves gradually,
the moment flows.
With no care - the falling pallets of rains,
splashed against the window pane,
as the watery dams filled the windows of her soul.
Diligently as a child awaits,
the great expectations of her strife.
She is forced, reluctantly
to accept the consequences of her life.
Echoes of Emptiness
The National Library of Poetry, Editor's Choice Award for 1994
Through heavy shutters,
the light streaks out;
the silent mutters,
of thought about.
Through hollow pipes,
and prose so absurd;
screamed words of snipes,
and thoughts unheard.
Through muted phones,
were left unsaid;
the silent mourns,
of empty heads.
Through unscented blooms,
and fragrant-less mist;
permeated rooms,
with colorless wist.
Through untouched works,
were strive-less gains;
by lascivious clerks,
without a pain.