Flavour

Salted soil
Salted memories
Take a bite before they clear.
Or let them be
The way they are
And hope they'll disappear.
Pepper them
With dust and grime
Till there is nothing left to grow.
Console them
They're in a better place
Than they were about to go.

Bitter gourds,
Bitter words,
Take a bite before they ripe.
Or try to fight them
In your plate
Hope there's enough to wipe.
Sweeten it
With flavouring,
Till you can't make out.
Eat it with
A savouring.
The taste you cannot doubt.

Clanging dishes
Clanging spaces
Jarring understanding.
Cleaned wishes
Cleaned faces
Illusions of standing.
Going forward- going backwards-
Tell me I'm right- Or left-
So many noises-
So many flavours-

Somebody please call the manager.

Why Cockroachs aren't Beautiful

Underdogs of the sewers
Who bring infection, disease
And assault our pure cleansed homes.
Here dirt and earth have no place.
Brown hiding in the dark,
Small creatures that can be crushed
Easily
Under our shoes.
Better are
Poisonous fumes
That consume them
As they lie with their ugly belly facing us
Twitching their legs as if in some struggle.
So easy they are to kill
Yet we fear them with our hearts.
The brave ones proudly
Pick them up and dangle them teasingly,
As we feel foolishly scream and order them to be thrown away.
Such small little petty things.
Yet
We fear them with our hearts.
They sprout out from everywhere
Every season
As if in resistance to
The new brand of poisons this year.
Every year.
How much longer till
It consumes us
And we lie with our ugly bellies facing the Earth
Twitching and writhing in pain?

The underdogs, however, will still crawl
Survive the apocalypse
As they have for each dynasty.

Always read jibberish twice

Today I feel like poetry
Though I have forgotten rhyme
Somewhere while I was growing up
I forgot my sense of time.

I hope you all won't mind it
This silly childishness
But I really feel like poetry
And making a big fat mess.

I really don't mind jabbing
And making no sense at all
And write climbing verses
That eventually thud and fall.

Its been so terribly long
Since I've had nothing to say
About the world in general
About the trees and clay

About the silly people
About the love and pain-
'Cause I have to write some poetry
And wet my words in rain.

There are no deep wordly feelings
That I need pour out to you
I want to spit out random words
And feel proud about it too.

I don't mind scraping paragraphs
Today I feel no shame
I want to bathe myself in nonesense
And have licence un-tame.

Don't stop me now
let me come out today
All I want to write is poetry
Some serious serious poetry
Some very serious poetry
About me
And you
And poetry
Today.

Embers

My heart is torn in these pieces of words,
They will mean nothing to you-
But, I understand.

My life is an open book waiting to be heard,
It will gather dust in your library-
But, I understand.

My pain is acid seeped into the paper burnt,
It will be garbaged into forgettable corners-
But I understand.

My excitement flickers on the wick of the candle,
It will be blown away in your precious darkness-
But I understand.

My words bleed
As you leave them to fester infection.
When it becomes fatal, one day,
You'll understand too.

Lovers

I've been thinking for sometime
Though there is nothing left to say,
I'll tell you through my silences
I'll tell you all is past
And forgotten
Though both of us know better.
I've tried to forgive myself
And you.
But both of us know better.
I've tried to jump into this mirage
which will stay on for my children to see.
I am not ashamed
I am not proud.
I have lost too many to cry in bitterness
I have know your face too well
To fall in love.
Though both of us know better.
My wounds have healed and scarred.
While you have sailed to distant lands.
I stand facing the waves of the shore
That wash the sins off my feet
The sand still sticks to my body
Like old memories.
I sing a soft tune to soothe myself
But the sea knows better.