Poem 1

Now as confusion deep within me,
Tries to shake me off my stand,
And in the mist ahead I try to see,
As my ship awaits earnestly some land….

Oh! The white crystal is so clear,
My destiny no longer to me hazy,
What then is it that I fear,
This thought drives me crazy…..

A beautiful evergreen love.
Which had I long sought in vain,
Into it, now myself do I shove,
The answer to all my pain????

The years gone by but still I see,
My death being mourned by none,
A nightmare that’s haunted me,
Ever since my parents had a son……

Poems

Now I'm gonna start on a series of poems I've written long back. A lot of them you would, correctly so, find infantile and naive and kiddish.
They are quite personal, so be a bit kind, and they are of when I was infantile and naive and kiddish!.

A minute at a time.

4:14 am on a late Thursday night.
Half a can of beer.
Alone.
In the mood to enjoy the company of those I like best - solitude thus being apt.

Is it in man's fundamental nature to be lazy.
Is it possible to be indifferent.
Is it possible to look death in the eye.
Does it make sense to live for the moment.

A barrage of questions pop in and out of the basket that is my mind.
Answers hide in oblivion, not that I complain.
This isn't a night where I'm seeking answers.

It's a night I'm choosing to just be.
Just be what I am, do what I feel like, say what I wish.
I realised it had been a while I hadn't done that.

Why does that happen I wonder? Why do we drift off and become someone we aren't in the race of life? Are we merely living upto expectations - of ourselves, of others etc, or a random drift we become aware of only when the cognitive dissonance is too much to bear.

I wonder.
I drift.
I come back only to drift away again. Occasionally, I like the drift, and change my own course.

Over and over.

The clock ticks away. I am living, dying, a minute at a time.
I like that I'm living and dying on my own terms, a minute at a time.
Amen.