One day at work, I walk under the cloud of your absence
And I hear someone calling your name out loud. My heads turns.
It’s just a new colleague, I give him a once over
And think, “You don’t deserve this name, fella”
I am biased. I am.

Conform

Close your eyes and listen to the hum of the world
All those people, all those thoughts, their constant
ceaseless inner conversations, the roar of tyrants
And the shrill whistles of Rules, those that run the civilized world.
Do not think, do not speak, do not express
Most importantly, do not do.
For that’s the only way, the right way,
Considerate, civilized and the path to amenable co-existence.
Man is a social animal.
Conform.

I shall give birth to you, and the pain of labour
Shall be my trump card, a sword that I dangle over your head.
Never shall I mention that I conceived you in a moment of lust
You don’t need to know that, and it is just a minor detail that can be ignored.
I shall raise you, provide you with food, shelter, clothes
All better than your peers
And to give you all that I shall work hard, serve corporates
Or governments, I will moan and groan about how hard I work
And look at you meaningfully, “I do this for you”
And that shall be another sword that I dangle over your head.
When I do all these for you, why can’t you give me the one thing that I ask for?
Why cant you just
Conform?

Did you know that God created the world?
Shush. Don’t ask, just listen.
Just as He created, He can destroy
There’s a place called Hell for the disobedient like you
Trust me, you do not want to go there
There’s Lucifer and his lobster-coloured cronies
They’d deep fry you and poke you with pitchforks
You will be in agony, no one will help you.
And then there’s Heaven
Where angels sing and play their harps
You can sit on cloud chairs and sup on honey
Join the angel choir and worship God.
Only the pure in heart can enter the gates of Heaven.
And the pure in heart obey rules, they believe, they have child-like faith, they don’t question
They
Conform.

Now, you must be under this foolish notion that you must not kill
Well, you must not, but sometimes you must
And guess what, I will even pay you, glorify you, if you can do that.
Shush, don’t ask anything. Just listen.
There are people called enemies, they live across wire fences
Those who stand that side are enemies and this side are friends.
Simple.
you shoot the enemies, burn them
ravage them, rape them, loot them, torture them. It’s not wrong. It’s the highest right.
Do that and I shall call you brave.
You shall be glorified, posthumous if you get blown off in the shoot outs.
Now this is not for the chicken hearted. You ought to be the bravest and noblest.
That’s the way of the world. Do you have it in you to
Conform?

I hate I hate I hate all what I have written so far. All these years. Absolute tripe. Absolutely worthless. Aargh.

Selfish

Tonight, my heart is troubled, it roils
like the turbulent waves of the ocean.
My Lord, the peace of your unbounded love
fails to reach me, I’m inconsolable
Pain crackles around me like fire. Listen.
It rumbles. It shudders ominously.

Lord, let your gaze fall only on me
Turn your face away from the rest of them.
I am the one who needs you. It is I,
I who long for the comfort of your robes
I’m your servant; your selfish, abject slave.
Yet I’m not kind, I will not share your love.

Love me. Me. Love only me, love only me.
My Lord, touch me. Touch only me. Heal me.

Sunday

So, I rose every Sunday
Drowsy, wobbly, angry
Was never an early riser
And Sundays were the worst,
I was up with the Sun.
It was seen to it that I was.

Dreadful Sundays, dreadful days
A little rebellious mind
pummelled to submission
on every dreadful Sunday
Polka dots and pigtails, big brown eyes,
a dreadfully angry spirit.

They told me he lived there
I believed, for a while
Then their cleverly crafted lies
(absolutely unnecessary)
gnawed through my faith
gnawed through it with termite teeth.

Scuttled their own ship
they killed their own
with the toxin of their lies.
And then A Big Fat Atrocious Lie unbound me
and shoved me roughly
into a world of strangers.

Which faces are familiar?
I see a million of them
And for a while I searched
for eyes that would hold mine
a smile of recognition, kinship.
Now my eyes are closed, I search no more.

Those Sundays were dreadful
I rose too early to go where he lived (or so they said)
And stayed back too late
so they could speak their narcotic words
that would deaden my tongue,
so I may only listen and never speak.

And so I left.
He came with me.

Disgust

Oh, come now!
You don’t mean to say
that you are, er
in love with me or something, do you?

I guess not, I hope not
Oh Heavens, No!
Spare me the tripe
of your co-dependent longing
and that priapic rapture
as you see my face hear my voice touch my skin
or fantasise about
seeing my face hearing my voice touching my skin

I’m done with you
and a long time ago.
Then why do I write this?
Because this masochistic high of being disgusted at self
for allowing even one moment of intense emotion for you…
this haematic high, is quite addictive.

I once knew this bastard
(How easily I judge)
who proclaimed Love
(How I hate the word the sentiment the feeling the confession)
to someone whose creativity complemented his
(She inspired him too, another muse, silly goose)
but guess what, despite all his oh-so-true feelings
(yeah, it got him a hard-on, that much was true)
his destination lay elsewhere, of that he was sure
(with hair grey, skin wrinkled - his old age home)
wedded to this faithful slave he was
(you know how it is, pati parameshwar, conceited bastard or not)
he’ll return to her, he said, his eyes brimming, love shining
(spineless parasite)
but for now, he told her, you’re my everything and my love is true.
(Rot in Hell)