Can this day be gone?

Can this day just be gone,
For tomorrow is a better dawn.
I wait with bruised palm after tramp,
Measuring the roads of Eastern coast.

Is it greed to punish my bike,
To spend a little more time with you?
What not would I not do on Earth,
To conquer a few more seconds for us.

Will it come a little early, the dusk,
For stars to rise and taunt us speak?
Will it darken a little faster, the sky,
For moon to light our tired faces?

Can this time just be gone,
Impatient for the known words.
I pretend like all actors in love,
For you to speak them all anew!


Distant vision

With live music waking around

reminding the unseen rustic joy,

with laughing hands everywhere,

her gracious amidst a hundred heads,

cleared the seas like Moses’ staff.

He was only lost and burying

As a refugee in his native lands,

Wishing to be seen, yet not to be,

Willing to kiss a guillotine blade

And be one with the her garb

For once before the Earth sleeps.

He saw her heels smiling,

When she had hers hiding,

He saw her seeing him,

She saw him seeing her,

Yet loveless her was left alone,

For he loved her more than love.


I quit

I poured and poured
unasked love,
Till a day, I don’t remember.
But I did see the Tomorrow!
I saw thirst strangling her.
I stood, watching her pale,
Parched with triumphs
Yet devoid of love.
What’s victory without her?
What’s love without victories?
What’s a tragedy with both?
What’s a man with neither?
From all love lost lanes,
Mocked me till I quit –
Not my ego, never my love,
But trying to frame it
For once, till I quit.

Art: Wiktoria Florek

Speak your lie

Maybe when I’m gone,

To blend in immortal love,

For eternity, I’d shower sonnets.

With rays of moonlit fading

And cruel sunlit dawns,

I could only pity the nights.

They hide our truths,

They take our blames,

Of our conscious phrase.

I wish this dark doesn’t change

Anything in our daylight worlds.

Liar I am, speaking these.

If you’d like to lie too, speak your lie,

To choose our truths, before we die.


Stars from Shadows

What if we float in cosmos
With no borders and fences!
What if we share our food
With no mar and disgust!

Shall we hold hands today
And follow the sky up the aisle?
Shall we with chasmic cry,
Power my other in despair?

Wish you’d listen to my elegy,
Wish you’d see how I love you,
Wish you’d know how I wept,
What am I, but a distant gay.

I’ll ask what I always ask:
Stop once, darling, and stay mortal;
Unlike men who turned immortal,
Reaching stars from shadows!



What’s love but a drunken poem
Born of pens rocking pens.
A gift of nature it’d be,
If you escaped the ink of love.

When I drank the toxic brew,
I could only ask once more,
I drink and drink, still ask more,
To await the words that’d stone.

Am I a man? Her grief spoke!
Could I once tell the my truth?
I’m a man, yes, but not for you,
I’m a man, for my man in love.



Naked over the sweaty sheets,
We spoke love in darkness.
Dead love do knock at times,
To check if we are alive.

I see and read your skeptic eyes,
Clueless of my immure mind.
Ask me woman, ask me!
To know what wars I do for you.

I fight nature to prove myself,
To love you girl than all men.
I strive to prove that I’m a man,
But can’t I love him being a man?

His lips are rough yet tender,
His sinews are hard yet bends.
Our union brings out hearts closer,
Than any women who claim love.

Yet, I’m here with you, milady,
In hapless wedlock of tradition,
I sense your love down the feige
“Will I ever be better than him?”


Picture: Call me by your name (2017)


I don’t even know wtf this genre is.

I’ve been in love before, many times, but never been stupid enough to reach out knowing the probabilities. I feel comfortable sitting in the dark corner of my room and conversing through texts, but not this time. I couldn’t stand weeks of her absence. Number of Gautham Menon films influenced too, to start the journey to her without second thoughts.

I started from home without much money. Well, if money runs out, I had plans of busking and earning my ticket back. Contingency plans! It was a lonesome travel, with none to converse, but I felt more accompanied than ever, bearing her thoughts throughout. As station neared by every hour, I lost my sleep and my appetite. All I had to do was to see her, nothing more, nothing less.

The station arrived after hours of me tormenting the TTR. I had to walk penniless. It was weary, yet, love makes one stupidest. I feared I would drop down and end up with ALS. Headphones and alienation helped to focus on her and her alone. I dared to speak in a language I have no proficiency in. I used Cheta for almost everyone irrespective of gender or age. Cheta, ivada poyi Beach varumo? I don’t think a sentence as such exist in real world. I had to walk assuming Malayalam and Tamil has similar texts. All I could see in the direction boards was round round Jalebis. Somehow, entered a household compound which was locked from inside. The water was fresh as always, but freezing. Well, what can I expect while trespassing?

I caught a 10 mins break to rest for a while, but insomnia never let me. I walked again and almost after 1 hour, I reached the beach. KLF! Amidst intellectuals, I was looking for her in every chair to see that none even resembled her. Hopeless, I returned back, but as I walked I caught someone walking towards me. My dizzy eyes couldn’t see keen, but, I know it’s her. She was so beautiful. We started speaking and within minutes she said that she had to leave. It was funny how I travelled 1 full day for just that few minutes. Something asked me to go with her. We started walking without words. I remember repeatedly annoying her asking not to go. She’s one stubborn woman! We walked to railway platform and sat for the train to arrive in few minutes from then.

As reality struck, we exchanged few words metaphysical. That’s when time favoured me. Train number —– will arrive 50 minutes late. Hearing this, we both had very contrasting reactions. The conversation turned ugly at some point, when my arrogance struggled to reveal itself. My true self, say my evil counterpart liberated itself. I couldn’t remember a single thing we spoke. I was busy losing myself in her game of shadows. In moments, I lost.

Suddenly, I paused. Something told me this moment you’ll never have again! I confessed my actual humaneness for her without screens. I told her how time and conventions can’t affect my love. I told how her choices of men or life won’t push me away. I told how I never knew when it begun nor how it prolongs after so many truths. I told her how I love her differently. I couldn’t see her face then, I was guilty. She was never mine, never will be. But knowing this, yet staying ambitious, makes me the Villain. I thought of walking away, but I heard her speak. Suddenly, she seemed the most beautiful girl on the face of Earth, when sun lit her face. We heard her train approaching and stood fixed. I was greedy and it was answered by God. Two more extra hours to ruin our story that delved in darkness. With one goodbye, she left. I started walking again rethinking and recreating the day over and over again, to be the God in my possible worlds.

Love. It makes one do unexpected mysterious things. It pushes one beyond limits. It both gives belongingness and takes it away. It’s a curse and boon intertwined. I remember this story as a gift of God for an over ambitious atheist. Nothing more, nothing less. Love, it is.

Our first kiss.

I felt his tongue in my throat,
Deep down and suffocating,
As we planted our first kiss.

My schoolboy heart loved her,
Beyond time and space,
Where physics failed like me.

Logic corrupted and ideals fell,
In blind dumb senseless love,
Which fools one but loves two.

Yet it was our first kiss,
Mine with her and her with me,
What shall I say anymore?

Fools we are to try again,
What we lose day in and out,
With vain hope for revolt.

What thoughts are these?
Whose are these, I wondered,
When I slowly passed away.

Yet, I saw myself smiling,
Holding her face as in dreams,
Dying a warrior’s death.


Mortal train

In the mortal train, the mortal night,
she is art, which speaks and moves.
Yet, at dawn, I wake and try,
Only to remember her, forever.

What is life but a cursed train,
where immortality is joked of!
What is life but a staged night
Which wakes as reality rings.

She is both dream and the morn
As she’s life and gifted death
she’s the twitching clock of hell
To redeem me from tonight.