Simple truths - The deal

By -
Here is the deal.

And i can tell you, from lore or from luck,
 If you end up doing something
That you are not wholeheartedly into,
That does not make you dwell within it with a childlike innocence
And the same curiosity,
Happiness will always be a couple of steps ahead
Or a couple of steps behind
But never together.
Eluding you like love, unrequited and huge
And shake you up with realization tremors
At 3 in the morning
And you can see the turn that life has taken,

The morning coffee mug is the makeshift ashtray now.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Whispering heartbeat

By -
In a flash,it changed. The London weather gave way to the sunshine of southern France. That's how life was with her. In an instant she could come and twist and break me with a couple of strange upright non romantic letters. For her eyes bore into mine and melted me in an instant. Lazer eyes melted the soft iron core. But i liked it. I liked the way we would go on talking for hours and the world ceased to exist. Our words intermingled,to form poetry and that's how we would talk then. She is pretty. Those big eyelashes. That kajal smudge,for she used it,and i loved it. And strange as it was,i never knew what hit me until she was no longer there. Yes,in a flash it changed. The sunshine gave way to London weather,had me up in bottles of beer   and an unkempt beard. That's why i write at in the night. What is it now, 1: 20 am? Because he,who loved the light,made darkness his own. And she's all grown up, and the kajal's not so smudgy now. But i long to
Read more

Still-life travelling

By -
I feel like a time traveler. As if it has been decades,centuries of my existence. Don't mistake it as something haughty, or arrogant or something else. I read about things and i feel that i have been there and absorbed the melodies of those bygone years. I had been there with Sinatra, and with Morrison, with Axl Rose and his skin tight jeans. With Sackett, and with Kid Rodelo,I traveled the far blue mountains. Sipping black coffee,living off the grass, i survived the frontier with strong Irish people. Passing history as I walk,I feel the pebbles talking, the big oak smiling gently, laughing at my inquisitiveness. The foreign lands are not so foreign. And the seas have never been so calm. Soaked in knowledge of past years and people, it feels complete. There is contentment and yet,there is an urge to know more. Life's ending,one minute at a time. A subtle hurry it is.   
Read more

Longing : A piece of bad poesy

By -
Maybe this is what death is like- A person closes, With thoughts of warm beds and red roses Of rebirth and acts of cleansing He sees white lights with high hopes of deliverance. But he floats on, with longing Acceptance, but no deliverance. Maybe it is what love is like (or the love I know) - Years in longing, years in denial Then years in acceptance, But still longing. I've  never had qualms with accepting. I've  dealt with my denial and understood yours Understood life and its absurd ways But help me understand this- That why, why When I think of summers and white swings, I think of you When I think of winters and perfectly brewed tea, I think of you And at long night, when  I've  dealt with another day, When  I've  smiled the smiles and laughed the laughs Lived through summers and lived through winters (tried) And I sit back, staring at blank pages on my laptop screen, I think of you.
Read more