For My Self

Reluctant was I to stand ground,
My own self in total disregard,
I may lift weights overhead,
Yet, mine holding me down,
And I may talk to others nonstop,
But will the ‘silence talk’ ever start?
And I may read others’ faces,
Whilst mine buried underground.

So here is to the era of recovery,
To the morning light of my moon,
To the midnight rise of my sun:
An early bird – for a lasting lullaby,
An invention – for an open mic,
A dew – for a refreshing smile,
A postcard – for a self-reflection,
So here is to how I stood my ground.

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Torn Pieces

Why when I am about finish my masterpiece
By patiently stitching back a torn portrait
One piece dear to me decides to detach?

Is this imperfect masterpiece worthwhile?
Should I throw it away and let it decompose?
Maybe then I can rework on my self-portrait?

Or maybe my energy is just better utilised
In signing songs to travel across the oceans –
Only sung to open the eyelids of free souls?

Maybe there the torn piece might value me?
Maybe then I will reunite with them again?
Yet, I wish the masterpiece finishes now.

Late Twenties

In my late twenties,
Between sad six
And sorrow seven,
Between essential eight
And noble nine,
I immersed myself in
An ocean of feelings,
I performed a somersault,
And I hit my head,
Slipped out of rhythm,
On indestructible rocks,
Then in a surreal coma,
Later, a patient marathon,
Survival of the fittest,
And I will always win,
Because here I am,
Still in my twenties.

It was You She Hanged, Remember!

Needles keep striking your chest,
The place where you remember,
Beautiful memories like red roses,
But then the thorns bleed you dry,
And you stop. You retreat. You –
Forget about her, all of her,
You have unmasked this being,
So, move on and forget that hug,
Forget that smile and that dance,
The songs and the infinite poetry,
All you need to do is remember,
Remember her twisted words,
Making you feel guilty every time,
Shackled and imprisoned in her world,
Each step thinking twice or ten times,
Until you stop talking to everyone,
Relationships cut, deleted, stabbed,
And with her incessant hisses:
Your own self she enslaved,
Your close friends she drowned,
And at last, it was you that she hanged,
Remember?!

Sweet Royalty

Youthful beauty of an elevating butterfly
Writes a departing ode to the long past,
To her previous self, painting smiles to last,
And as she steps into the space among stars,
She realises the beauty in her freedom,
Blessed I am to see her evolutionary steps,
A natural phenomenon for the unique nobility,
A queen to all her close soul friends – to me,
And I ask for her throne, to stand firm next to,
As she tries to find her crown in colourful books.

I Am Cultural

Hold on. Pause. And take a deep breath.
Listen to the red beats of all our lives.
And wait. Be patient. And look outside.
See the yellow dust mixing with shades
Of green palettes awaiting to be stroked
For an enormous canvas. Now breathe.
And live for as long as your white smiles
Take you: over the blue seas or even at
Your own doorstep where you trembled,
Where you suffocated your old inner self,
A shock towards a culture you embraced
As a little child and chose to set it aside,
Let it shock you. Let it shock the very feet
That tried to escape a reality deemed to
Forever follow you innocently for a kiss,
And for a little hug, and request to never
Forget, so go into a huge shock so that
You will be able to return to us normal
For I am all of my past, present, future.

A Child’s Game

Raise your level of imagination,
To that of a child building those
Blocks of letters, stacking them,
With that contagious tiny smile,
He might get absorbed into the
Colours and use that to solve a
Problem that he himself might
Have created, but he will feel
A challenge with exhilarating
Rush of emotions once logical
Reasons permits him to finish,
Or he might endure one more
Rule of his own creation where
The edges of perfectly-shaped
Letter cubes should be aligned,
Or not, as it depends on his brain
Waves cooperating with his heart
To beat for a vibrant self-portrait,
Here, creativity was explored with
A bunch of wooden cubes, see,
One might disregard the details to
Conclude that it is ever so boring,
But maybe you just need to raise
Your level of imagination, and
Observe those friendly monsters
Surrounding this child to play with
Him this simple but awesome game.