Monthly Archives: July 2015

Un… Amber

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“You spell your name wrong,” said the plump aged man with the protuding beer belly, who claimed to be my dead father’s eldest brother with such atrocious pride. “It should be spelled Unber (the sky). Otherwise Amber is like the reminiscent burning ashes.”

“That’s exactly what I want it to be.”

Four Letters

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They say that love has the ability to consume you. I wonder who “they” are but nonetheless they too are victims of this… scintillation. I had to think of a word for that state you go into when it strikes you that you must accept the fact that this love is now a part of you.

Some call it a drug or a virus that is injected into your bloodstream and infects your whole body. I beg to differ. This metaphor implies the forceful penetration of a foreign venom. Love is not rape. If you find yourself associating words like one-sided and forceful or similar synonyms, I request you to remove “love” from the context. Desecrating love on the basis of poor choices or misfortunes that you had to endure is just a projection of you misplaced faith.

I write from a completely subjective perspective. I have associated love to all sorts of ideals; a spectrum from the ugliest to the most beautiful. I have come to the conclusion that love is equilibrium. It can be your strength and your weakness. It is liberation as well as possession. It is devotion as well as independence. It is rage as well as calm. It is intimacy and it is distance. It is loud and it is quiet. It is rough and it is soft. It is emotion along with aggression mixed with passion. It is intervention of thought and rationality. It is the action as well as the words that run parallel.

Love is all that you can feel, unconditionally. It causes wars when at peace yet it gives you peace when you’re at war. It is so much and yet it seems too little. Thus you keep going on and on yet it never runs out.

You can love so many things and so many beings at the same time, altogether and in completely different ways. Love is not constrained to spacio-temporal norms. Love is universal. Love is free. Love is infinite.

Musings

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(i)

Love has never been my muse
Love has made me
irrational and illogical
ludicrous and atrocious
obsessive and compulsive
Compelling me to be
who I was not
Patient and kind
Soft and sober
Innocent and naïve
to those who
deserved it least

(ii)

Depression has been my muse
My inspiration derived from
sadness and pain
brokenness and numbness
melancholy and despair
Talk to me of
lonely nights or
sighing at the moon on
sleepless nights
I will write you a poem
Or maybe two

Even when I am
happy and glowing
lively and bubbly
joyous and content
I could still write
a poem or two
drenched in darkness
pain and sorrow
For when there was
no one
There was my depression
a blank paper
and my pen

(iii)

Love was never my muse
but his love
Radiating brilliance
Exhuming warmth
His love is
the tune to which
my pen dances
nay, it waltzes
across the page
twirling dandily
in the September rain
His love is
my guiding star
my navigating sky
His love is
my ocean
my anchor
His love is
my inspiration
my liberation

Love was never my muse
But his love is

Lost in London

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Black tinted
My heart-shaped glasses
Paradigm tainted
Monochrome flashes

Bright blinks
My hazy hazel eyes
Fresh flings
Parched grey skies

Wondrous wonder
My rain-stained window
Thunderous thunder
That veiny neon arrow

Misty smoke
My deceptive vision
Love misspoke
An unequal division

Midsummer Monsoon

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I’ve always had a broken heart
Its been that way from the start

Erratic beats of my heart; glitching
Restless tips of my fingers; twitching

My mind’s pendulum swaying to and fro
Measuring the distance I have to go

Running, escaping far away from me
Hoping that I would just cease to be

The person I have the power to become
Embodying the vices you had shun

Thus I swim on, against the mighty tide
Always trying to win this ferocious fight

In the end, I know not who will win
The eternal battle of virtue and sin