Hello
Hi
I know
It’s me again
Sans the smoke and mirrors
Away from spaces in my head

And again and head don’t rhyme
But I didn’t need to say that
My self analyzing ways
Were in a haze
But made their way back

And I’d be impressed with myself
If there was some sense of pride in me
For each time
I grab said prize
It forces insides outside of me

And rhyming me with me?
Come on, man, that was simply lazy
Hazy
Crazy
Amazing
Maybe
No, you’ve got it, baby

Use it to the maximum
Forget minimally
But what if
Amidst these rhyming riffs
They see the real me

Do they see the real me?
There’s not a chance
It’s blasphemy
Because my armor, then would be
A holy one... almost gaping

People often ask me what my poetry’s about
They point like
“Oh?”
And I’m like
“No”
And they just question
As words pour out
And they move and they burn
And they twist
And I’ve learned
Not matter which way they’re turned
They’re about things that don’t last

They’re about loves torn asunder
About fires, rain, and thunder
Like that song
By Stevie Wonder
They’re the “Joy Inside My Tears”

And they lower and boost my fears
With all of their rusted gears
So I feel movement
A shift I hear
And yet I find it just still
Here

Hello
Hi
I know
It’s me again
This same ******* rut
That undercuts
These roots from sinking in

And the smoke and mirrors
The music
The light show they all go dim
I throw them to the floor
And the mirrors
Show me him
And he is me
But who am I
And...

...I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to shout
The truth is I’m not sure who my poems are about
They always hold some part of me
Hoping, despairing, living, dying
Some are etched
In stone-thrown rage
And some just leave me crying

Potential wins and consistent loss
They’re what fill my pen
Some acknowledgement to
A God who is always good
But a world that’s not my friend

And the struggle of my color
And the ripping of my heart
And the feebleness
Of my intellect
As I play this brief part
As I suffer
As I benefit
As I laugh
As I bleed

As I say hi
Hello
It’s me again
Just me

A Sad Lonely Girl
Walks to his house
Naive enough to think
That he likes her

She checks her hair, her dress, her cuts
better hide these, she says

A tall, shadowy figure greets her
Its green eyes glitter

M-----














MY KNIFE IS MY FRIEND
IT'S ABLE TO PENETRATE EVEN THE TOUGHEST OF SKIN
IT CUTS THROUGH DEEP TO EXTRACT THE RED
IT MINGLES WITH MY VEINS

THE PLEASURE MY KNIFE GIVES ME
OH, HOW I CRAVE IT SO MUCH
EVERY CUT GETS ME WET WITH BLOOD

DON'T TALK TO ANYONE ELSE
TALK ONLY TO ME

IF YOU LET ME COME OVER
I'LL SHOW YOU HOW SHARP MY KNIVES ARE

Today I looked you in the eyes for the first time in five months
Except I don’t think it was your eyes I was looking into...
There was a new found joy in each pupil, as if our past was never there to begin with

Right there and then I knew,
We were both finally free

Hello?
     Anybody there?
Or am I wasting my time and breathe?

We both live in Mumbai,
He is Harish, I am Jai.
He lives on the pavement,
Next to my luxurious apartment,
He lives in a shack with metal covered with tarpaulin roof,
It has a T.V dish and WIFI
Mine is hi tech and fire proof.
He sells Samosas on streets and trains,
I am a CEO of a huge company and its top brains.
He rides a small scooter,
I move in a a posh chauffeur driven car,
We are both dressed according to our status.
But, life is ludicrous,
He is always carefree, laughing and most happy,
Whilst I am always stressed and snappy.
He sells 4000 to 5000 samosas a day,
Free, sometimes by midday,
He gets a profit of rupees one for each samosas he sells,
Mostly he gets orders to deliver on his cell.
He earns as much as I do,
Makes me seethe red and blue,
He is his own boss,
Net income, no tax, no loss,
While I slog day and night for others,
Thinking of it makes me shudder.
He is even the owner of the house I live in,
My company has rented from him,
He even owns two more houses in the neighbourhood  within,
And a garage not  far,
Where it  services  our company's cars.
Life's like that.