•Her•

She is a thousand miles from here, as the bird flies,
But I don't know any bird that flies from here to there,
See, if I did, I'd string myself to a flock of them & leave right now,,
I'm kidding-
She knows if I wanted, I would
Catch the train,
Or take the bus,
Or grab a taxi
& find her in her neighbourhood,
If I wanted, she knows I could,
If she wanted,,
Here's a selfish thought-
My favourite part of her body is her ears,
Not because they're pretty, which they are,
But because when I let my soul leave,
When I let my words carry it through the air, she hears me,
Like any drug worthwhile, she is a pain reliever,
One time prescription, no refills.
If they bottled her, I'm not sure what they'd name her,
But I'm pretty sure the back label would read :
''Warning-
Contains high concentrations of the stuff that lifts your soul to the clouds,
Keep out of reach of anyone who can't handle the fall.''
If it were up to her, the world would have no sound,
Except for her own whisper & saltwater shifting across the ocean floor,
She has a talent for sitting on park benches & ignoring the world,
It is absolutely irresistable how careless she is with her beauty,
When she is to blame for so many acres of flowers & grains of sand,
So many windows that look out on courtyards,
On the hilltop, framed by dusk grains, her hair hangs to the grass
& there, she shakes out the memories,
She likes the South of things, the feet & ground of things,
Shadows carving into darkness like palms,
& the feeling of being unsure of something at twilight..

Her hair drifts around me gently, like a summer breeze,
Her eyes gaze upon me, soft as satin sheets,
& her sweet scent envelopes me & I breathe her in,
In her persuasive web, I am entangled, watching her every movement,
Graceful, delicate, like a dandelion in the wind,
& then I close my eyes,
Letting her body's light imprint the dark depths of my soul,
As her outline develops, it is a vision like no other,
But as the vision begins to fade, a realization strikes me,
When I open my eyes, I will see her,
But it is not until I open my mind that I will begin to know her,
& suddenly she is more than I imagined,
She is so much more, so wonderfully interesting,
She is the kind of girl that people read books about,
She is delightfully chaotic, a beautiful mess,
Loving her is a splendid adventure,
When she speaks, she shares her inside, that which I could not see,
& this humbled boy ignites,
For now, I understand,
I truly know what it means to be in love,
I feel her essence, her soul radiating,
Without thinking twice & with haste,
I fly into her light..

Write.
Those are her instructions,
As if I came equipped with an arsenal ideas desperately seeking to be materialized on paper,
But up until this point, I have lived a fairly normal life,
Despite the speckles of quick-tempered rebellion-laced mistakes,
I didn't know if it was the right time to feel the way I did,
Or if it was the right time to tell her,
But I went ahead & did anyway,
I told her I loved her-
She said it was too soon & think it over but I ended up over-thinking,
But still, despite my aptness for the occassional ''passable for decent'' poetry,
I simply had no words to describe her kind,
The kind I want to drown inside of,
The kind that would leave me bereft of descriptions should I ever be asked to put it into words,
She rocked me without a single fire warning
& all she could say was ''Write.''
I have no story to tell, I love her is all,
But I don't write when I'm in love,
So would she ever grasp the significance of a blank page??

•Fences In The Park•

I listen to peace,
Rain flowing steadily like the calm beating of a river's stream,
A petal of your smile drifts on a wavelet straight to my shore,
I dream I am a leaf-
Floating on a silent breeze: free,
I am a wild weed
Tucked behind the earlobe of a summer child,
She, a tall exotic flower caressed repeatedly by the breeze,
A flower that will blossom in the full moon, regardless of the sun,
A flower that bloomed in a garden of thorns, knowing not what tenderness was,
It's beauty surpassed other flowers but still smelled of thorns,
The blemished flower, growing in the dark,
Growing dangerously close to the fences in the park..

My heart beats at the tip of my pen
Gracing blank pages with ink of my emotion,
Sometimes sad
Sometimes sweet
But always irrevocably me,
& endlessly I write,
Looking out the window-
The rythmic sound of the train,
Trees running backwards,
Strangers walking around,
& I find peace in the chaos,
Then, in the quiet stillness,
I wait for your soul to speak through the darkness,
My being longs for you, reaches out to find you,
Following a trail of thoughts which leave it's footprints behind on my notebook,
But of what use will these words be if they can't
Lift a sinking spirit
Soothe a bleeding heart
Or paint a smile on someone's lips??
The heat & dust of life robbed my eyes of it's sparkle,
With blurred vision I still search for the path which would lead me to you,
& as you finally gaze into my heart,
Each beat twinkles like a star to replace the sparkle in your eyes
While my eyes wash away the dust,
I look beyond the ripples of my reflections to examine my inner self,
The ripples begin to fade,
As the reflection lays beside me, grasping my hand,
The inner warmth & serenity shields me,
& as the vision of my reflection appears,
I see you..

''Believe me'' my heart pleaded, pounding mercilessly in my chest,
''She is not like the others, she is not like the rest'',
My love the ink, your body a canvas,
I want to discover ever inch of you & examine with wide-eyed wonder,
What makes the storm inside you thunder,
So give me the broken fragments that are your soul,
Let me delve deep, my love the lantern that lights the way,
Share with me your inner most secrets,
Your mind is an alluring enigma, wrapped up in a beautiful face & encased in a gorgeous body,
Your words are the hug I need on the worst & darkest of days,
We are separated by distance, but I am with you now,
Take your hand & brush your cheek-
That's my hand, my touch, our moment..

I doubt not your fondness of me,
However, your greater love for another makes me an afterthought,
I am no longerworthy of being the only thought,
It is difficult seeing you slowly leave the spaces in my heart,
It was excruciating to take you down from the pedestal I had put you on,
But it was my only means of self-preservation,
My heart cries, not for the pain of my unrequited love,
But instead for her own, which she endures so courageously,
I will never stop trying,
I will never stop hoping,
I am never going to stop romancing you
Even as I watch your love for another flourish,
Leaving me crying, all alone in the dark,
Leaving me standing right outside the fences in the park...

•Your Piece•

I wish I could dim her inside of me,
When the broken pieces from long ago suddenly shift beneath my skin,
Threading pieces of a dream through the eye of a storm,
I am a broken, battered soul,
Living an unfulfilled life of loneliness & depression,
Of missed chances & humiliation,
I sit on the front porch of my sanity,
For upon a thread's tip hangs my vanity,
Please do not judge me,
Even though everybody can find love but me,
See, I am a lonely soul,
Crawling through the ends of the Earth,
Looking, searching, longing for inner peace,
As I search for my missing piece,
The piece that completes the puzzle that is I,
She shines, not like a diamond, but brighter than the sun in the sky,
She'd be mad & I'd find a way to make her start smiling,
& sometimes she'd look into my eyes as if she could see what I'm hiding,
For her being is like mine,
We shall fight & argue, but our life together will be just fine,
For our purpose shall be solely divine,
Soiling the path of time with seeds of mine,
Bringing up a generation of us,
To build our future, but not neglecting our past,
They shall thrive-
By pen & ink, mighty nations will sink,
Through words so humble, great kingdoms will crumble,
For their power will be obsolete,
Neither physical nor emotional,
They shall have the power of a poet,
& they shall make the face of heaven so fine,
That all the world will be in love with the night
& pay no worship to the garish sun..

Though these words may be read by many, it is you I am writing to,
Painting landscapes with my words,
Colouring my world,
In views of abstract colour,
With hues like no other I have ever seen,
A poet sketching an impressionist scene,
Phrase & verse with a palette of words,
You paint my world in colours vivid & bold,
This view never grows old,
This landscape of your soul,
So come, then-
Mother of my children to-be,
Let me father the future fathers & mothers of the night,
Fill the universe with our psychological might,
Let me take care of you,
Winter sits inside your chest & I long to be the sun that warms you,
Is it not enough that I wrote my poetry in pen on my skin for you read clearly??
When I read, I project my emotions for you to hear me,
I long to be yours, not a knight in shining armour,
But take as I am,
The potato that I am,
You could be my yam,
These are cheesy pick-up lines, I know,
But you shall laugh & love them for our hearts are one,
& even though I have nothing to show,
I promise you a lifetime of silent fun, & at the midst of my silence is you,
So come, let me find you,
Look deep into my soul & see a darkness so bright it will blind you,
In the piercing light, let your sensitive eyes seek solace in the comfort of my shade,
She will be as swift as a coursing river, with all the force of a great typhoon,
With all the strength of a raging fire, & as mysterious as the dark side of the moon,
In a world without touch, I feel too much,
Feed my brain your words of lust,
Create beauty from the dark of night,
Or the dark of Destiny's ink dripping from chestnut veins born of pain,
Through which escapes a broken soul, flowing through a heart in verse..

Gaze into my eyes like you can see every tomorrow & forever in them,
I can see pieces of me mirrored in your words,
As though the thoughts I never spoke are the ones that you heard,
I long to be trapped in the euphoric rush of your exquisite touch,
As you chase every bit of emotion with delicate care & madness,
Clear out the sadness that remains from my old heart,
When the oceans in me are restless,
You are the lighthouse in my heart & the anchor for my soul,
Fill me with fragments of you,
Dancing softly through my darkness like a shadowy beam,
Making me ache in places that I have never dreamed,
& in the serenity of your touch, your love, your kiss,
I'm grateful, for the refuge of you,
In the midst of the chaos that is my life, I thank you,
Give me your heart, that I may be renewed,
So that finally have a new start,
A new chance at happiness, a restoration of faith,
A new beginning, a new eternity, a new forever in your arms,
I can only hope that these words find you,
Kiss your beautiful soul,
Awaken you from your slumber & bring you home...

•The Empty Man•

Not everyone can write poetry,
You'll pour your heart & soul out into verses,
Convert your memories into ink,
& burn through draft after draft,
But what if you have nothing to say??
See, I have never lived, I haven't yet had 'experiences',
I have never smelled death, felt loss, touched fate, heard hate or seen love,
For me, the empty page is torture,
It sits & it spits it's venom at me,
Daring me to taint it with my meaningless scribbles & dots,
A pen is a sword & mine is a tad too blunt,
So the empty page mocks me,
It sits before me with the knowledge that I have nothing to offer it,
The great poets will fill & have filled pages with their thoughts, with their emotion,
Their minds are floodgates & when they open, an ocean swamps the pages,
These people are born-writers 'cause ink courses through their veins,
Because their hands are guided by that which I can never have-
A soul.
I figured it out,
I too can write words, but they're just that; mere words,
A murmur in a crowd,
A loose handshake,
A cold empty stare,
The empty page is not meant to absorb your feelings, it reflects,
The whole time I was staring at the empty page,
I never realised that it is a mirror,
I ventured into poetry to find myself & I did,
So who am I??
I am John Doe. I'm nothing. I'm nobody, invisible,
The page isn't empty- I'm empty,
I'm drained to full capacity & I have nothing inside me to throw on paper,
I am a blank canvas,
I am The Empty Man.

•Guys Like Us•

Guys like me are hardly ever wanted, you know??
We're defined by our sadness like silhouettes of depression,
Shadows cast on white walls, even the detached parts of us are flaws,
Chapped lips, the cracks filled in with blood & skin residue,
Hearts vulnerable but impenetrable at the same time,
We're the breath you can't catch & the words you can't speak,
You wish your thoughts had never stumbled across us,
We're charcoal & ashes & tears
Slapped together to form fallible dusty masses covered in blood & doused in pills,
Swimming in the hollow depths of our empty smiles,
Suffocating in the aftershocks of feeling,
You can see our homes burning & smoking in the space between our eyes & reality,
That's the fire that swallows us whole, night after night after endless night..

Guys like me are hardly ever wanted, you know??
There's more than just distance between us & happiness, but not enough between us & hell,
We only know to exist when we're in pain,
Everyone has a way to hurt but we would hurt for anything,
Baby feet & memories erupting from split wrists,
The things we hate most are the ones we do best,
But we're never disaster-oriented or stubborn enough to find the morgue, at least not consciously,
We crave love & affection, but refuse to accept it unless we feel we deserve it,
But love cannot be manufactured, it cannot be earned like a paycheck,
Yet still, we keep working,
We keep typing & counting the numbers until our fingers scream for help,
Each & every mistake accounted for,
We're left in the kitchen with glass bottles displayed like antiques,
Encased in sorrow & placed in the museums of our deaths,
Tears falling like rain-
As if the rain can wash away the sharpness of the knives scattered across the tiles,
We're used up & we're sad & drunk & perpetually waiting by the phone
For someone to pick up & tell us that we did good, we did good,
We're worth nothing more than the dark depths of our souls,
& the white-hot tumours of rage taking over our hearts,
Because we're falling to pieces & we're never good enough to want,
See, guys like us are hardly ever wanted, you know??