Skip to main content

Ink That Blots

Come
Fill my pen
And flow through my little life
Adding colors
And forever staining
What were white empty pages
In waiting
Endlessly
For this fluid verse.

Let's make love
With these moments.
Punctuate me
So that I never run out of breath.
Complete me
So that there be meanings
Stringed together
Out of ordinary letters
That etch a forever tale.

Labels:

Comments

  1. Launna March 27, 2015 at 6:06 AM

    Very intriguing post Rajesh... it makes me ponder all the possibilities ;)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Spiral

Come Let us slice into each other With fine surgical precision You slash me here I slash you there And then When the storm is done I will patch you up And you tuck me up You bring the bucket I the mop the blood And together we will cleanse Our ancient hurts Our guilts And our fears  Until we start again And over a cup of coffee You tell me  My dear Just how much you love me And I shall tell you Just how much I love you.
2 comments
Read more

Our Kind of Music

Together We might never dissolve fully Into each other But we will flow my love Like rivulets through paths untrodden And we shall make music Like pebbles rolling And water flowing And birds calling There are all kinds of music And such shall be ours.
2 comments
Read more

Clowns in a Circus

The circus came to town I could see the posters of acrobats and hippos and giant wheels On shaky ancient auto- rikshaws Driven by incorrigibly happy Poor people. For some years now, I have felt like the joker  Looking at a gallery full of fools Wanting to believe That what they see And live Is not sheer drudgery  But liquid entertainment.  I think Joaquin Phoenix fucked my world view Forever.  And before that, there was the Matrix Or even, Joseph Heller Or maybe it was Gabriel Garcia Marquez  Or even The Bhagwan who declared In his infinite wisdom That the infinity of our souls  And the divinity of our beings Are sullen By the circus  Of life.
2 comments
Read more