One chance too many or one chance to few

Why people cant move on.. because they give things one last chance.

Night

Night, the subliminal crusader of loneliness, can be triumphed, not by a morning, a beckon of hope or a warm hug of compassion,
but by a promise of yet another night, glorious, subliminal and lonely as ever.. .

Resolves

Burn a few bridges if you have to, 

you would need the light to cross the other hundreds in your path

Fresh off the indulgence,
having succumb to the temptation yet again.
I reel in the afterglow of surreal pleasures, 
just as I burn in the remorse of being weak.


I resolve once again,
only this time hoping to keep it.
By summing the strength from deep within, 
I had yet again a perfect start.


Resolve is the strongest
and desires easily winnable, 
when the guilt still prevails,
but only time will tell, which one remains.


The race between the desires
and the determination is on.
Place your bets, 
as it wont be so very long.


One will triumph,
and it will always be the greed.
Resolve only seeks victory
in how long before it concedes.

Burn either way

If it is the blaze of glory, I choose to go up in flames.
         If it is the fire of agony, I'd rather char ever so slowly.

Rain

I am going to make it rain, 

no matter how hard I have to try.

For I am the one without the pain, 

and deaf to the cry.

A little here and a little there

life is passing through. 

New lures everywhere

with or without you.

They leave behind little traces of guilt,

as the solemn resolves go up in smoke.

The earnest acceptance of weakness,

dissolves the kind words you spoke.

As thoughtful as one can be

and as sensitive as one can get.

A constant meaty grey,

but its not yet at its best.

With experience and with memories
but with no clue on how to cope.
Held them on far too long though
nothing from the past beckoned hope.

Sadness

Sadness is like that half a second blip on the movie screen, that can come at any point along the film.It is not really a part of the movie but its a clink or a scratch that results from the CD not being looked after. To enjoy a perfect movie you need to be prepared to take the time to clean and maintain the movie disk. Similarly,  you should be prepared to take the time to look after your life to avoid and clinks of sadness.

Sadness is like that few drops of drink spilled on your desk, that leave a circular blotch of the shape of the rim of your cup. Its not really something you want, but it has come from something you like. To enjoy your favorite drink, you must be prepared to rub a few blotched tables with your sleeves. Similarly, in life should be prepared to experience sadness, if you choose to build fondness with things or people.

Sadness is like that unrest-full sleep on the couch after several sleepless nights. Its not something that you do every day, or have much control over. but whenever it happens, you learn to value simple things like your bed or a good night's sleep that you otherwise took for granted. Things change, people go away. In life, be grateful of things you have and be grateful that you had them,when they are gone.

Sadness is like that last caramel candy you have been saving, that falls on the floor as you are unwrapping it. You'd be tempted to pick it up and go back to pretending as if nothing happened, but if you do that you must be prepared to have a bad taste in your mouth. Nothing fixes itself on being ignored. Don't deny your sadness but rather face it head on.

Sadness is like that appreciative word that you wait to hear eagerly but it never comes along. It should be a reason for you to try and get better so that it comes your way, but instead it becomes a reason for you to even stop trying. Whatever caused you the sadness, should not dissuade you from what ever you were doing, rather it should instigate you to see if something needs to be changed and change it.

Sadness it like that dinner that you end up burning on an already rough day. Its not the worst thing that happened to you all day but its the one that  pushed you over to loose your cool. Similarly, in life we get stuck on the triggers of our sadness rather than the real cause of it.

Me..

Frozen heart, by heat of careless world,
fluid willed, by chill of the fear,
I run, livid in this spiritless world,
Amok, in the dead calms.

Artless in inspiration,
tactless in persuasion,
scathed by applause,
and coddled by claws.

Hurt, on being loved
and cherishing the alcove.
Depressed at the apex
and spirited in every fall.

Praised for the ordinary,
ridiculed for bringing a dawn
Dull at the beginning
but ending with aplomb.

Hardened of emotions,
yet fragile of the heart,
sure of my indecision
and eager to perform.

Rooted in the sheerness
of a guileless mind
and blinded by the glaze
of a clear heart.

Consecrated with demons,
and crucified with holy souls.
Stepped upon petals,
while grooming the thorns.

Overlooking perfection
and seeking flaws
Unvalued, Uncherished.
Me.. .

Crossroads

Which way should I turn?

Towards the road that excites me,

or the path that calms my mind.

Should I tread the way that pushes me to get better,

or the way that makes me feel great about myself?

One path is an undiscovered treasure trove,

while the other bears fruits I have savored for long

Thoughts of one give me goose bumps,

while the memories of the other relaxes me to no end.

One filled with wonders that I stare at wide eyed,

And the other so secure that I soak in it with eyes closed.

Should I turn towards exploring and discovering?

Or towards the embrace of years of familiarity.

Should I be with the new?

Or with what I always knew.

Which way should I turn?

Towards the road that takes me to a new dream

Or the path that lets the heart flourish in all that I like.

Stitches

As I sat there, getting stitched, I wondered why it did not hurt. Your hand, firm and purposeful,  moved without any sign of hesitation. But the fact that it did not cause me any additional pain, meant  that you were doing the job well. The traces of thick, coarse  thread, going in all pale and white, were coming out burgundy. A little red had dripped on to those fine shoes, but surprisingly, the red that appeared a pale color on a pale thread, looked devilishly shiny on a pair of  shiny shoes.
Sitting there, I could not help but notice how high the ceiling was, the ceiling of your chamber. And I could not help but imagine how the red would look on that high ceiling. But then I knew, that no matter how invigorated I feel, I would not be able to reach those ceilings. Those high ceilings protected you and those with you, and you protected those high ceilings right back.
Watching your needle work its magic on my body was no less enchanting that watching  you. Your unfazed expression and your focused eyes, vigilant and scanning for minutest of details gave me an eerie comfort of being looked after. Stitch after stitch made you me feel better, and Stitch after stitch made you feel stronger.

So near apart

"I don't want you", he said, and he meant it . Charmers are not usually keepers. She knew that and he did not try to refute it. However what she did not know was that he was going to be around, looking from the far end of the dinner tables and raising a glass in all those bar nights. He was going to be around making and taking the trips as they happen, telling stories and listening to stories being told along the way. He was going to be there with every one when the time called for pulling an all-nighter or an all-dayer. He may be stepping away but he was not going away.  He would be there, walking away turning a corner on the street where she would catch a glimpse of his neck over his collar. He would be there in the conversations, in them and making them, and she would either hear from him or hear about him.He would be there to help with all his abilities and he would be there to create trouble with his mischief. She knew it, but there was only so little she could do. He did not intend to make himself visible, grab or demand attention, or push the line. But she would still see him and he would see her. She would see him calmly nod his head to her as their eyes meet, and move on with no more than just a nod. He would see her trying hard to keep all the attention on her. She would see him raising him arms in euphoric laughter that gets a gathering started. He would see her, peacefully holding on to someone else's arm.

Tears of a man

A patient man,
with eyes set in stone,
and face like porcelain,
cried.

An ordinary man,
with no fancy talks,
and simple thoughts,
cried.

An honest man,
with no lies or secrets,
and a clear heart,
cried.

A trusting man,
with faith in love,
and a belief in others words,
cried.

A friendly man,
with joyous heart,
and a zesty charm,
cried.

A committed man,
with no distractions or indulgences,
and a resolve in his heart,
cried.

A tolerant man,
with a forgiving heart ,
and a positive view,
cried.

He cried for who he was,
and how ungrateful the world was,
His sorrow only getting heavier,
with each tear he held back in his heart.

By myself

By myself, I'd be afraid of the dark,

but with you, I find courage in me to keep off your fears.

By myself, I'd be tripping and falling,

but with you, I find balance in me to give you a hand.

By myself, I’d be clueless and lost,

but with you, I find the sense in me to solve your dilemmas.

By myself, I'd be too coiled up with worries,

but with you, I find the calm in me to sooth your mind.

By myself, I'd loose my mind,

but with you, I find composure in me to cool you down.

By myself, I'd be distraught,

but with you, I find strength to console your sorrows.

By myself, I'd be tired and spent,

but with you, I find ability to edge you on.

By myself, I'd be satisfied

but with you , I find to keep you going.

By myself, I'd be a lot of things

but with you, I find ways to be so many more.

Look back

Bad memories are like a hot girl passing by you on the street. You want to turn your head and look back but its best you don't or you run the risk of  not seeing what lies ahead and tripping in your path.

Saddle

Neither being right every time
nor admitting when you are wrong.

Neither keeping a positive mind
nor ruing over past.

Neither knowing when to stop
nor just going on and on.

Neither being belligerent
nor always being calm.

Neither listening with honesty
nor staying quite and strong.

Neither being your true self
nor being clay in a mold.

Neither being accepting
nor being persistent for change.

Getting back on the saddle each time
is what matters the most.

Let go

To let go the suffering,
you have to let go the pain.

To let go the pain,
you have to let go the hurt.

To let go the hurt,
you have to let go the hatred.

To let go the hatred,
you have to let go the anger.

To let go the anger,
you have to let go the memories.

To let go the memories,
you have to let go the person.

To let go the person,
you have to let go the love.

let go and suffer
or suffer and let go.

Choose for yourself

I can choose to do it or I can choose to not do it. 
Either ways I would still have to do the choosing.

Oil and Water

Passion and Discipline are like oil and water, they do not mix easily.
But when they do the results are amazing.

Everything

Everything shining can not be her eyes

and everything enchanting can not be her gaze.

Everything captivating can not be her face 

and everything sparkling can not be her smile.

Everything absorbing can not be her hair

and everything entangling can not be her curls.

Everything amber can not be her lips

and everything sweet can not be her kiss.

Everything velvet can not be her skin

and everything warm can not be her touch.

Everything comforting can not be her embrace

and everything fragrant can not be her perfume.

Everything enticing can not be her charm

and everything exciting can not be her lures.

Everything true can not be her word
and everything honest can not be her emotions.

Everything compelling can not be her thoughts
and everything fulfilling can not be her presence

Everything meaningful can not be her trust
and everything achievable can not be her intimacy

Everything can not be her
and everything can never be her.

Cilice

Every one tells me that its already gone,

but I am the one still holding on.

A moment, a life, a memory, a dream,

how long will it bleed is yet to be seen.

Knowing is agony,

not knowing is bliss.

What was always on my mind 

is now also under my skin.

Not gentle like a blow,
not scathing like a kiss,
close to my body, digging  into my flesh,
I cringe, but savor the pain and sweat.

It is what it is

without any remorse.

Those who chooses to embrace it 

deserves no more.

Guileless in compassion,

but artless in expression,

tethering with love,

but liberating with blood.

Wrapping itself around me,

and never looking to leave,

constant companion

my cilice.

Poem

Write me a poem, will you?
I will hang it up my wall,
right besides the paintings that I made
for you, which you did not want.

Write me a poem, will you?
I will keep it in my diary,
between the crumbled pages of stories
of times that are now history.

Write me a poem, will you?
I will keep it by my bed,
besides the empty photo frames
that I took with me when I left.

Write me a poem, will you?
I will keep it under my pillow,
right beneath the creases
where you used to rest your head.

Write me a poem, will you?
I will keep it in my mind
which is now adept
at keeping occupied

Write me a poem, will you?
I will keep it in my heart
and throw out the rest of you
part by part.