WHEN NOT DEFINED

The following is a poem one of my friends wrote. Title was 'When not defined.....'

When I see the truth I say what I feel,
but I found that to others I couldn't appeal.
I tried to tell them, but words couldnt explain
what I felt inside, be it love or joy or pain.

The more I tried to make myself clear,
I found that the truth had become dirtier.
The truth of the heart is corrupted by the mind;
Some things are clearer when not defined......

My reply is what you see below!

Nice! I remember we discussing something on these lines, back in 2006.

Now....

I have bigger worries.
Bigger or different, or whatever. Oh!


What is this life, full of care; No time to stand and stare;
stare, at the truth; and indulge in it.
Dirty it with words;
reclaim its purity with silence
filled with more words, just expressed in limit.

Stare! To stare at the truth and indulge in it!
I might soon become incapable of seeing anything;
Running, running along with closed eyes.
With pain and joy limited to the physical realm.
When it is anything other than physical,
it is something I would otherwise have laughed at. Trivial.
And the other thing... love.
Is there a smiley that is self-geering, Hello hello Tahoma!?
Aureliano! Are you me!?
Thank goodness, there are some kids around.
Spreading some cheer and dreams.
And, more thanks to goodness,
I dont have to take these kids to my home.

My home, where I can,
sit aone and stare at the truth;
indulge in its dirtiness;
silently swear, jibe at its pretentious clarity.

SUCH A LOVELY PLACE

I was on the highway
And the FM was filling the car
Serving melodies and memories sweet.
Up ahead in the distance
Dark dark sky and a gold coin moon
An Indian's moon in Californian sky
Visible through the thin cloud layer
The dark thick clouds painting black everywhere.

Sudden storm of grief struck my heart
Farther I go and I Wouldn't see my moon...
I told myself
Stop in this moment
And just stay with the present...
Pity Pity!
Where will I stop?
Time or space?

What a nice surprise!
Moon followed my eyes,
Forty miles per hour,
shining through the clouds
Making them look thin and pale.

It wasn't a thin layer
That allowed the moon to shine.
It was the moon
that made the cloud look thin.

With my eyes on it,
I can go anywhere,
For wherever I go, My moon!
May the sky be dark and the clouds thick,
You brighten my way,
My eyes, my life.
World with you
Such a lovely place!
Only with you,
Such a lovely place!

(Yes, You got the song FM was playing right!)

Last Laugh

Last laughs
are always from my weaknesses.
Even at the hours of realization.
My conscience
is tied to bitter smiles.

Words, I and Crosses

Words are
much like us,
human beings.

They do certainly
wonder one day,
why they were born,
and
what purpose they serve.
Having given birth to them,
I carry
their crosses too.

Words are
much like crosses.
I am crucified,
on my words.

On Ideas

Debate started
and
heated up fast.
There go
the swords
sharpened for days.
Debate on ideas,
we called it.

At the end of it all,
with us were,
swords sharper
with all the fight,
newer, stronger weapons
discovered and made
from the opponents' field,
and
the same old ideas!

Salt Knives

A pinch of salt
with every lesson,
I am saltier
than any ocean!
It's nauseating.

There fall my idols
killed
by the salt knives
leaving me
a salt mountain
and broken idols

It's intriguing
to scale the peak.
An achievement,
won't it be?

But who needs that?
Salt inflow never stops,
there are new idols!
I know
what to get rid of.

Holy Slaughter

As the knowing expands
drop dead the holy-cows
that I worshipped
admired, liked and loved!

I have grown a few
I have grown into a few
Kill them all!

My veins run their milk,
but
it's time
to be ungrateful.

Though insecure
I might find peace,
in a holy-cowless land!

ONE MORE IN MY MORTUARY

I saw It rising.
from an unknown corner
of mind.

Took in my hand,
enquired its origins;
Demanded
reason and explanation,
for its birth, existence
and persistence.
Cut it into pieces,
to analyse
and to classify.

Oh.. here is some conclusion.
Now, decorate it,
with puzzling words,
no rhymes, out of style.
Try make it
sharp and taut, though dead.

Now,
push it into your mortuary.
Visitors waiting,
to appreciate, congratulate
to wonder, feel good
to dissect the already dead,
and to find their conclusion
to decorate their mortuary.

ALL ABOUT A JUNKYARD

It's a junkyard.

Yes, it's a junkyard,
seen
from a running bus;
through the window,
a two legged animal would spit
soap stinking tobacco on,
later;
by a twenty six years old boy
or ... young man;
on his way home;
leaving behind and carrying
his love untold and rejected;
gathering the pieces
of his heart
broken in his eyes;
towards a new future
as old as his past.

WHAT WE HAVE?

I can't get to see,
however hard I think,
what am I to you now?
Will I ever know?

What you have for me,
Is it irritation?
Or a heart of hatred,
or just indifference!?

I know it's not love!
I know it can't be love!

I know my heart well,
It won't ever back out.
Nothing can erase
in my heart your face!

It will be in my shell,
that I never will reveal,
for I know you know too,
but you chose not to face.

But, you know it is love!
Dear, you know it is love!

Don't give me no reason
you might have lots of 'em.
How can it matter to me,
what they are, let them be!

This is our station,
where I know you part me.
With you take these words
just to laught at or hate me.

Just to laugh at or hate me!
Just you laugh at or hate me!

I bid you good bye here
'tis bad I can't go back
and start all over again
not to give you a single hint!

Don't wanna be near
I'll go far and find my life
But love's what I have for you!
never impured by words of mine!

But, love's what I have for you!
Yeah, love's what I'll have for you!