Think

If I let go of hope will I fall?

For Gurdish

love love love you said and I coudn't hear
kisses and tears and souls you talked of
life, spirit, joy - such words you spoke
hell, no, why, who is what I asked
fought and fought against what I always wanted
you stayed and took the punches, some with yells and others with a smile
but the worst is over, begone I beg - its you and I, what doesn't matter is everything else

For Dude...

Lone, cold and sad I wander

wiping tears with guilty hands

pushing through the memory lane

happy times, wet tongue and a wagging tail

life then snatched him away, smiling at the lesson taught

drenching pillows and a soaking heart

a mistake, a fault and all is lost

The Petal

Once upon a time there was a petal - pink, smooth and free. It loved to travel to different places with its friend, the wind. The beach was its favourite place because he loved the sand, the sun and the water with its neverending view. But soon people started to notice the petal. They thought it was odd for it to hangout at the beach. They said: "Shouldn't the petal be in some garden or better even in a bouquet for someone's wedding?" The petal was oblivious to this. It was a wanderer, a gypsy and had the sould of freedom. From where it saw things, nothing was odd. Sure it liked to visit the garden to meet family and friends but it knew its true home was the beach. Wind and the petal spend days on the seashore making sandcastles, talking to spirits and making jewellery with seashells. The petal also loved to read and would pick up stray bits of paper that people left behind and was very knowledgeable but unaware of the vices of the world.

A big man had been observing the petal for days and the fact that the petal would roam the beach wouldn't go well with him. "It is unnatural," he thought, almost pitying the petal. He took the petal home and put it in a beautiful crystal vase thinking that's where he deserved to be. The petal was adventurous and started to explore the place but soon got bored and wanted to go back to the beach. But it was stuck in the vase and started calling out to its friend, the wind but wind was no where to be found. The petal decided to sit down and wait, hours and days passed and the petal started losing itself. It lost its pink colour and the smoothness was replaced with wrinkles. It started to look like a gloomy brown. It started sleeping a lot because it had nothing to do. The big man sat on his couch, proud of his good deed. He helped nature put things in order after all. The petal lay at the bottom of the vase, sleeping soundlessly because it was dreaming of the ocean, its home.

The B-thing

Why do women get so bitchy? All the competition and sarcasm and the snide remarks and rolling eyes must root from some place? Whether its a dolly aunty's strong urge to spy on her neighbour's daughter or a workplace colleague's spent energy and time over the other's successes and pitfalls. Why do women bitch? At this point I must make clear one point - bitching is not the same as gossiping (men do that all the time, they love gossip). Gossip is essentially more harmless while bitchiness is a woman with a plan - there is an agenda and a specific aim, i.e. to make so and so's life miserable or to make the girl gang hate X. It stems from envy or habit but is nevertheless malicious as hell.

Most bitchy women don't resemble the soap kinds. They come in sweet packagings and never lose their calm. They manipulate and take their time to screw you. Even when they bitch they make it sound like it hurts them to do it. They are usually extra-nice, extra-helpful and go out of their way to be nice to some people, hence, the claims of the one being bitched about usually go down the drain.

But what does the victim do? There are only two solutions - Be nice, say yes and stay out of harm's way or beat them at their own game. The latter is difficult because it means you will have to cultivate the bitchy mindset and spend a lot more time in thinking strategies, tactics and "sweet" revenges. The key is to be on high alert at all times and also put in extra effort at everything you do. A lot of hard work. Good Luck!

once upon a time...

song of the rain

smell of the soil

feel of the feet

touch of the sweat

intertwined in fabric

gasping for breath

of fingers and eyes

eyes shut and eternal sunshine

The thing that has no name

Of course it wasn't lust, lust lacks passion because passion comes from the heart as does love and creativity.... lust is of the body. I knew it wasn't lust. It could be the Long Island Iced Teas you ask? I've had those before but none has taken me to a level of purity, of basic instinct of a feeling as natural as breathing.

Infatuation then? Infatuation is hesistant, it wants to please...there was none of that, it was as if we have known each other from a time that is beyond this dimension, a fouth one perhaps. Infatuation wants to prove a point, but there was only joy passing between two souls and a comfort level you achive with your pillow of 10 years.

Maybe it was attraction you prod? Possible. Likely. Untrue. Attraction is fatal, it is selfish and it dies. This is soft, slow, unending and timeless. Attraction demands posessiveness, this merely awakens sadness deep down, knowing that it may be incomplete forever.

Then what you silly girl, would you call it love? No. That's insulting! Love is transcendental. It comes, it goes, it fades off, it gets weary...this has the quality of picking up where it stopped, it lingers on in every molecule and atom and thread of thought. Love needs a conclusion while this is a never-ending story. It sees no right and wrong...that's for teh earthlings...this is a soul connection, a plane of its own, a life of its own and a breath of its own.

It is nameless, fateless and endless. do you have nay more questions?

Bits of me and you

I just realised that when you love someone, you dont realise it but a piece of you starts living in that person. My Dude has been mising for a week, we will get him back somehow that's for sure but I just realised how important he was to me. I also realised how important some other people in my life are - parents, friends, special friends....but if I have left so many little pieces of me inside other people what am I made of? little pieces from people other people who love me?But wait a minute, waht if there's an imbalance. What if I love more people and not enough people love me back? Won't I be left empty, incomplete?

I guess we struggle throughout our lifetime to tally our balance sheets. I dont think it ever balances though. One bit to and fro, some tossed away brutally, some cherished for life, some lovingly cradled and some bits just longing in mid-air...what happens when you try to collect all your pieces back from the people you love or worse people who dont appreciate your love, I think you look complete but so static, so hollow that the 'complete' would be so meaningless. So I'm just going to leave my pieces in people I love, of course, it will hurt but what the hell, at least I'll lead a full life. Touche to that!