Heartbroken We Are

A bunch of heartbrokens
we are-
finding solace in poetry
and music
and in the books about
cruel loves
that suffocate the very
first grown hearts

And we confine ourselves
amidst the
consoling warm talks
of heartbreaks and loves lost
to evade the wind
flaunting in night its
lover's perfume

Then we get drunk in the ritual
circle of togetherness
to let the wandering thoughts
get dispersed in
the deep dusky liquid
and the intoxicated mind to
feel the bluesy sky
living its own silent woes
and try and make sense of
all the conversations that were lost
and all the conversations that were not.

Mirror

The playground of vain person's expressions-
to be practiced haughtily till perfection,

The source of libido for narcissus of all ages
and the ones yet to bloom,
for whom you've always been
and always be comfortably perched among right walls.

Helping your frequent visitors manufacture
delightful uncomfortable smiles,
fostering vanity-
inch by inch, till it starts
hurting the ones unwelcomed in your vicinity.

Wounding people with the adorned knife of aesthetics,
a discriminator-
you conspire hand-in-hand with fate that has been
unmerciful to the ones not blessed by
the right combination of pleasing geometrical parameters.
Those marred by symmetry,
unforgiven by scars,
mocked by blemishes and blisters,
who avoid you like plague.

Empty in yourself,
fulfilling you have been to your guests-
pleasing them with cocktails of emotions to choose from
in the celebration that you can host
any time called for.

I understand you are just doing your job.

But,
I personally think-
the world could have done without you.

A King, A Queen

I am the king of all
that can be this side

You are the queen
of the other shore.

Acquaint me to
your side of
breezes
and sand castles.

Some Nights

The stars help smile away
the blistering perforations
that this life harshly drills upon
like a dutiful poor worker

The moon helps cheer up
the dark grey
that you paint in my heart
with cold pastel of indifference

Nights are for reminiscing

Nights also are for altered reminiscing

Palace of Porn

I arrive here once again
O palace of flickering images,
ones full of basic rustic lust-
smoking out of a common man's chores
when he is tired at night.
Of old men's latency, repenting their
unfulfilled past
wishing easy shoddy nubiles.
And of newly formed teens, with
soft spacious moustache
awakened by the first heat of carnal curiosities.

O grand palace of porn
I come to you again
in this lukewarm dark dorm
with broken seats and scattered fag ends
to join my fellow fugitives,
who for now are the rulers of
a few happy aroused moments,
when together we pleasure
the senseless attempts at humour
and await the precipitation
of tensed cinematic moments
with precise patience,
which will soon be dried by the
harshness of outside daylight or
put to oblivion by the frozen quilt
of the silent night.




(In the memory of Lakshmi Palace- a cinema hall that played B grade films in Banaras)