Random verses all written in a day.

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When separate eyes meet in a crowded city square,

Over exploits of their humanity, and time, once and again–

They know they were meant to stay together,

Because they were met by a chance of eternity,

To be lost again, and again.

***

I walk through a dark corridor,

The air hungover with muck and gloom.

The door of the forbidden room stands tall

Like the brooding death of innocence.

I’ve arrived the point where it appears clear,

I’m just trying to kill a love I’ve given up believing.

But the stark darkness stuns the virginity in me,

Which is eager, very eager to take me,

Someplace else…

***

Those roads will be difficult to walk on, now alone.

The sand pebbles and germs, and the whirlpools of air

Which like separate worlds, have flourished to life

From the touch of our feet last trodden.

Preserving our childhoods, and pearls of sweet labor lost-

How dare I violate the sacred order of the worlds,

Which, if, might be conspiring to bring our feet together?

Which, if not, how can I disturb the ghost world,

Where in spirals of dust, our ghost selves would dance?

You will apologize to me, I know, you will. One day.

You know, I deserve one, for what I will have to go through…

The trauma of never being at home, while at home.

 

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Six Months Ago

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Running around,
Screaming around <in my head>
With no questions to ask,
And all pain and guilt.

<Six months ago> You made me wipe away my tears,
<Six months ago> You had me smiling again,
<Six months ago> You had me listening to metal!
<Six months ago> You taught me to love…oo oo ooooo….

Love, love, love, <love, love, love, love, love>
Some mystery it is. <How it happened>
You’d know it all better. <Sure you do>
It’s easy to mistake,
But then it never is.

<Six months ago> It all changed.
<Six months ago> You changed it for me.
<Six months ago> You, you, you happened.
<Six months ago> And your cycle became my eternity.

Words, little words, ran out of mind. <my my, my, my, my>
Some mystery that is. <How it happened>
You’d know it all better. <Sure you do>
It’s easy to mistake.
But then is it?

I plead guilty, <I am I know>
But like all crimes, punish me. <Oh, don’t leave me alone>
You cut me off, like I’m made of paper.
You turned away, like it’ll undo the last six months.

<Six months ago> You spoke a spell, <or something like that>
<Six months ago> If you’d remember, we had something to fight for.
<Six months ago> Six months have passed, and it’s just hurting now.
<Six months ago> You killed us but then there’s the ghost of our laughter…

Taunting through the day and haunting the nights,
You’re out there, soaring up on sunny beaches,
With the tides and the sun, while in silence life leaks outta me,
Caught in the perpetual ice storm, you and life conspired to put me in.

<Six months ago> I wished to die, and fade,
<Six months ago> What I feel now.
<Six months ago> You came in and that changed.
<Six months ago> Now you’re gone and won’t come back again.

All I wanna apologize for is,
I really do miss you.
Baby, you were all the good things,
I believe life ever had to offer me, that I will miss.

Thoughts, ramblings.

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3.50 am | 11 Oct, 2013

I don’t see any point in what I am doing right now… So there is no point in anything anyone else does in an attempt to be happy. Some people work, some people play. When they all know happiness is always momentary and rare is the case that lovers die together. I don’t know where my endeavor would be categorized. It’s been a few days or so it feels. Some seventy days it’s been, like a whirlwind. I have felt time like a companion, strolling along with me, running, stumbling, leaping and loitering aimlessly while I sought to pursue my happiness that he makes me anyway. It’s wrong, I know. Hoping and waiting, but I do anyway. With everyday he makes me fall for him a little while falling out of it a little. The throbbing heart just waits to see him again. The pulsating little light behind his form when I see him, sets my heart at unrest. My nerves are on fire, and deep inside me there is this all consuming desire, just to put myself out there at his mercy. I hate myself for it. I’ve had this before, and I don’t want history repeating. I don’t want to become another Meera, waiting for Krshna to be hers. My mornings became my nights and midnight my dawn, and yet desires are never ending. The wait is always there. So much is at stake, just so much, and yet he is unaware of it.

It will rain and it will rain ♥

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The air simmers, blisters. Induced hallucinations.

The cracked open mouth of wounded earth,

Seeped with blood red and covered with rust.

Centuries and eons of memories clouded by dust.

 

The fragile lines were breached once long ago,

The tempest had once rushed into my shore.

It’s been long and time has swept away the resort

The floods and waves of tide haunted me to drown.

 

Then the sea is just a embittered memory,

And it was a heap of sand I’d leapt into. Not death.

See, the passion had been sung well to drone.

To arise and laugh back, when mirages mock.

 

It’s been long I’ve lived scared to scraps and bolts.

It, the post traumatic stress disorder in me craving blood.

But I’m ready to go all out again, for surfing in the sea of love.

And she has to come out too, the madwoman locked in my head…

 

The fighter in me. The rebel. The poet. The lover.

The unchained philosopher, her storm unleashed.

Night has finally settled bets with daylight

There right there, fate’s let my midnight sun dawn.

 

Now again the tempest blows ashore, from the east.

The distant roars of the hungry cranky clouds resound

After flashes of desire reflecting his heart and mine.

After a long time I know, it will rain and it will rain.

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The Thin Line

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Life is now a stretch of eternal grey,

The lifeless transit tolls heavy on me.

The bones had just recovered

From the last catastrophic fracture…

When the glass was shattered again.

Life has gone into hibernation,

And yet something refuses to die inside me.

The metal window is dented forever,

After too many times the hammer beat on it.

However much I try to say otherwise,

My dreams had always been better than fair life.

That is why some people say, love is like walking a thin line,

Between insanity and gravity. Chaos and harmony.

It will bind you in, if you find your niche,

Or put you out to the mercy of the cruel world, if not.

Wish

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Dream of starry nights, on a fresh lawn,

You’ll wake up to a dampened dawn.

Wishing for love, friends and shooting stars,

Hurt you’ll be, never think they’re made for thee.

 

Dream, dream, within your gilded soul,

Sweet princess, so alien within this world.

Where nothing can touch you,

With a feather, nor ever a sword.

 

Within your spirit, you live, you rule,

You create, wonderful worlds.

You live for a greater cause.

Others just don’t get there.

If not Anything, You Make me FEEL Young…

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Feels like suddenly I’m helpless,

In the wake of the minute hand of the clock,

One evening not talking, not laughing with you…

Feels like heaven’s broke and rained rocks.

Why is it that so suddenly in just seven days,

You’ve become so important to me?

Why hadn’t we met before?

Now you make me think.

Is that what soul mates are like?

Like one meets the other half,

And then, suddenly, they’re one.

So much has changed since the hour we met.

And ever since then, I haven’t been myself–

But a stronger, bolder and wiser me.

Then can I call us soul mates?

I don’t know of that, as of yet.

But it was exactly a crowd that we first met,

So, maybe my epiphany still counts…

And we just happened to stumble upon each other.

I had a hundred reasons ready,

Excuses that spare me from going that day.

I overslept, and then my dress too wasn’t ready.

My hair wasn’t washed and poor me,

Instead of a petty-coat, I wore pajamas under my saree.

But still it worked, until it rained bullets.

My heels raised on five inched blocks,

I was forced to hunt for three wheelers on foot.

Windblown hair and dancing stupid unskilled bihu.

I don’t know how it started, but the way you guarded my heels,

Letting me dance as much as I wish, sure did touch my heart.

That you weren’t much that into the stoner den, like I was,

But kept experimenting with your camera, like I do with mine.

And now three weeks have passed,

But that memory’s still alive.

Like a little sixteen year old, you make,

My heart go out, on a roller coaster ride.

Little, little jokes, and secrets, planetary homes,

Like a game of snakes & ladders increasing in progression.

With your little innocent smile, you made me grow past

The pains I have endured in my battle-worn life.

Maybe that’s what soul mates are made for,

To stitch each other’s sore wounds up.

– – one soul mate, that is me – –

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As I see myself so happy, I am hurt.

There’s no reason for me to be happy anymore.

When my lips wouldn’t stretch further in a fake smile,

I find something wailing, unbearably loud, inside.

That shrill noise goes on breaching all my fortresses,

Setting to fire, my mighty monuments of fantasy,

And, ah, hope after all these years of pining in the inferno.

Sometimes I wish I could just pull it out of myself,

The deadly masque, which like symbiote,

Sticks to me, plays hoaxes through me.

The masque, that has slowly started,

To imitate me, but in subtle ways,

So very different.

 

Dreams that are never going to come true,

Why, O’ why, my dear heart,

Still so busy weaving them?

Why, wait for imaginary footsteps,

While living in a palace of glass,

In the middle of a desert lake?

 

At last like your only well wisher,

Like a hopeless Knight in shining armour,

For you, he never will be,

I wish to tell you of a few truths,

You’ve already always known as have I–

In the end, you will be the one, starkly alone.

Only your joy and blood will be hurt when,

Which already is too late, you decide it’s time;

To see the clear truths, that had been untouched all along.

That now you pretend to see and ignore.

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O’ you, miserable, miserly wretched geek,

You are poor, even though you think you’re rich.

.

Because numbers in your bank passbook,

Doesn’t stand for smiles that take your look.

.

Waking up, you will see it one day,

You’re left alone, and the world has moved on…

.

All cooped up inside your little nest, you are

Like an angry, very angry bird.

.

As much you want,

You can peck and punch through your walls,

But no ear still, will hear your cries.

.

(You can’t eat your gadgets,

I know you will not ever–)

.

Ashtrays will go on piling up, more and more

The dustbin overflowing with paper and rust.

.

Decaf will always remain stuck to your mug,

But no one’s home to do the dishes tonight.

.

Old and haggard, you’ll turn with time,

No smile you’ll get, just scowls and butts.

.

Lying in your bed you’ll cough and toss,

But no hand will touch your forehead with love.

.

Then only two options you have: rub your fat snout,

With a clean white sheet, and come out, right now!

.

Or, live in it. And smoke up your life,

Puff by puff, soaring higher and higher,

Like a very angry bird.

By, Cyril Cliffette © 2012

In Transition

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**NOTE: Read it with empathy.**
Tonight, my hand shakes.
I cannot hold my pen,
Nor can I type.
I cannot write!
.
Tonight nothing can help me,
No, I am not drunk, not even a little.
I am not high, and the ones who make me
Aren’t here. Cheers on their divine names.
.
I and hypocrisy have a long nemesis,
Tonight I am avenging my cause–
All those nights of tempestuous overtures,
And torments for self containment.
.
Hot, prickling, irksome — tears moisten my cursed lashes.
The broken dreams, like glass, jabs mercilessly into my flesh.
When I think and realise, revenges are going nowhere,
When it comes down to those, whose against I stand.
.
Love, that once washed inside me, like a flooded river,
Is slowly molding into a separate earth. Of cold stone.
But still in the deeps, love boils and spits, like an ominous volcano.
One passionate quake, and the rocks would all collapse…
.
But I cannot lose this war, I cannot!
Cannot let the rocks collapse…cannot let myself hope again.
(As if I can hold back such a phenomenon!)
Because, it’s me, and it’s always been me, I cannot write!
.
Untouched. Forsaken, I’ll remain, frozen.
Waiting for my love to die. But also hoping, he’d give in,
And the cracked earth will soak in the tempest,
Slaking the eternal thirst of the dry, scorched rocks.
.
Smothering the love…
Dammit, fantasies again!
I cannot write!
I just cannot.

Sunday Morning without my Glasses.

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Through saffron washed shades,

My sleepless eyes peep at the bright Sunday sun.

My familiar green purse with my stock of change,

I set out from home, this Sunday morning,

Without my glasses, my weekday eyes.

.

The damp trees all stand, towering over me…

Smug and sated after drizzles for the last few nights…

Like a witch’s prickly hair and pointed hat,

The willowy branches seem to point at me.

Forming black curves against the whipped blue sky.

.

Colourful paper squares soar overhead,

Tied to invisible cords spinning from spindles,

Held by unseen hands, all children out of sight…

Hazy lines of gleaming pinballs come rolling down,

The flyover down the road that draws towards town…

.

Something special is happening  today–

Some kind of campaign, some race-like procession.

Horse drawn carts racing along with motorbikes;

Car windows shooting out overgrown men,

Scarves tied on the heads, flapping behind.

.

Signboards I cannot see, my eyes are not with me.

But logos, and symbols I can make out.

I see the big M of McDonald’s, ’coz that was my destination,

As the hot aroma of butterscotch pancakes hits my sense of smell,

I cannot delay, my empty stomach affirms in a grumbled rebuke.

.

Hmph! Again a queue, this straightened out morning!

Probably BPO employees were out now, for dates after shifts,

I fake an accent, to pull the attention to me, a lonely visitor…

Only later did I notice, by far, I do not look anything

But a plain, fat, native, DU student out on a morning stroll.

.

A Sausage McMuffin, French fries and coke combined,

I have a decent meal to name on the roll at last.

Cuddling couples stare, I stare back; they don’t know, they’re not my eyes.

Like coins in my purse jingle, their accusing glares bounce right off me–

Never leaving it, like change, just piling up more and more…

.

Sadly, now that the morning’s passed,

And without my glasses, I’ll have to return back.

Gems put out on display catches the light–

I look at the shiny jewellery shops as I go,

But no eyes here, to watch them shine.

.

It’s broad and harsh daylight now…

And I have to get back home, before,

While crossing the wide road,

I’m trampled by a truck or a van,

I mistook for a shiny silver pinball.

uncouth

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dirty scoundrels sweeping the alley,

infect the night, like blood bugs buzz.

uncouth men, sitting in their windblown, spa-like cars,

through drooping eyelashes, hawk for a girl to pass.

dainty filles in airy curls, Versaces and Ralph Laurens,

with Mochi stillettoes flirt with wine and ash.

the guards are two, spatting with one another,

about who’d demand for the bribe–

from a late night venturer.

the pubs are all about to close,

the hour which depletes their barrels,

of such pricey, heavenly liquor.

cars begin to wheel out

with their heavily drugged owners.

and their long forgotten humanities,

well, the flat drunks leave, but the rest prowl,

in search of new robes, to tear,

for the thrill of the screeching,

throbbing flesh to resist their advances.

and to smother the mouth to silence,

with puke-worth kisses. Done.

_______________________________________________

as the alley darkens, let the dogs wake up.

Thunder

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tearing through the dull grey midnight

thunder comes clapping with a loud bang,

with a flashy warning sent a second ago–

usually missed by the busy people.

_

little girls jump and scream

hide under covers at night.

or run for their mothers’ arms,

behind shut doors, to keep it out.

_

but I hadn’t missed the warning,

so I dash out to hear it.

the sonic booming and the mad hale

as clouds break out in war.

_

taking the pleasure of the party,

of the drunk birds and dirt swirls,

I wish I had wings of wax,

to watch it from some place closer.

_

but later those would bring me my death,

when Apollo’s jealousy would melt the wax.

Maybe Daedalus could help me somehow,

but then he’s too is lost in his wargames.

_

my mortal eyes cannot see,

if it’s Zeus out there with his lightening bolt

riding his chariot, chasing the anemoi thuellai.

or it’s great Thor with his mighty Mjölnir.

_

I would never know for sure.

I’m content watching from afar,

hoping, hoping, hoping,

one day I’ll be among the stars.

@cyril cliffette, 2012