Requiem

I am at the crossroads,
But I won’t look back.
Back at the road I’ve travelled,
I’ve covered all my tracks.
No, there’s no going back.

You don’t have to feel guilty,
I don’t hold a grudge.
The pain I felt all alone,
I found a way to merge.
No, there’s no going back.

My shoulders don’t hurt anymore,
The pain is off my back.
Shed thirty years of baggage,
Sealed all open cracks.
No, there’s no going back.

Burned all my diaries,
threw away my phone.
Photos dumped in the river,
now I’m truly alone.
No, there’s no going back.

So you won’t be reminded,
Of me when I call.
Searching for things to say,
Conversations crawl.
No, there’s no going back.

I felt like a stranger, in the place I knew.
A singer in a land of the deaf, who'd vanish like the dew.
Hollowness I fought to banish, but it only grew.
Friends I thought I had so many, turned out to be few.
No, there’s no going back.

Wonder what lies yonder,
But it can’t be worse.
Worse than talking to walls,
Life that is a curse.
Oh no, there’s no going back.

No attachments, no expectation,
No hopes, no conversation.
No regrets, no betrayal,
No disappointments, no farewells.
No, there’s no going back.

A Quill Runs Dry

I have said and written all i had to,
And now my treasure chest has run dry.
And yet I feel there's so much left
Unsaid and untried.

Words that never matched the depth
Of what i truly felt.
Emotions that failed to appear in my voice,
As silences went unrent.

I can think of so many better ways,
So much I could have done.
But my hands lie weak and stilled,
While my heart refuses to run.

Time, how quickly you have gone by,
Empty notches on a vacant post.
How much I had and frittered away,
And now I am a whispering ghost.

Haunting crumbling places,
That the world will never know.
As it moves on, ignorant of
The last embers of my fainting glow.

A cruel fate, a punishment just,
Bear my scars as I must.
Faces and names, voices and sights,
Hatred and love, envy and trust.

All I am is an ancient relic,
My only function- to gather dust.
The spiders bid adieu long ago,
Their silky threads flecked with rust.

I speak a tongue that has long since died,
No one to mourn in sorrow.
No one to know if I smile or grimace,
Whether I live In the past or tomorrow.

Regret and guilt, long, deep sighs,
Abundant wealth like fame gone by.
Coins of memories, spent each day,
To ease the pain, as you lie.

My thoughts, my sole companions,
I seek solace in my cry.
It’s futile to put them down in words,
My pen has long run dry.

A whispering ghost,
Is all am I.

The Trap

Beads of Sweat rolling down my head.
Breath comes catching, careful i tread.
In a frustrated punch,palm meets palm,
as I tiptoe around the calm eye of a storm.

One by one, did i watch them fall.
Surrender their freedom, as chains are worn.
I cringe as i gnash my teeth,
their looks of contentment, let me down.

A farewell to a happier time.
Smiles and cheers didn't feel like a crime.
When we rode the winds without a care,
worries didn't drag us, death did we stare.

Now my fellow riders are bogged down,
bearing a cross made of worries, a world of doubting frowns,
Lines of sorrow, do mark a once cheerful face,
Mighty steeds, tragic, as they slow down.

A beacon that calls to those who would heed.
as i stand firm, in the bulwark of single hood,

Hark unto me, escape the noose that hangs,
to yank you into a life of servitude.

Heed my clarion call, turn a deaf ear to marital vows.
Women and men, learn to overthrow the yoke.
Live life as we were meant to live,
Not reduced to rehashed sitcom jokes.

Those trapped do yearn to be,
free as nature, like you and me.
Stay happy, stay single, stay strong.
A life full of grief, despair, arguments, inadequacy,
is surely a way of life that is wrong.

A life without commitment or "Quality time".
Guilt free to pursue what I think should be mine.
Sample the various flavors, drink in all the hues of the sun.
Why stop an epic tale, with an end at Chapter One?

The Sword Unsheathed

Red is the colour,
of the blood,
streaming from beheaded foes.


Red is the colour,
of the warrior's eyes,
before facing the gallows.

Red is the colour
of the evening sky,
as day draws to a close.

Red is the colour,
of his flag,
A symbol of the fight against woe.

A hero arose from a people suppressed,
questioned those who did not forget.
Marked him for sacrifice, an example to make,
of those who questioned the steerage of their fate.

Oh they mocked, with glee they cackled.
And smote his village, with fire that crackled,
and burst and thundered, as it consumed,
the lives of those chained, now lost in fumes.

A black heart was created, with the cindered dust,
that rained on ravaged land, on a fiery dusk.
He howled a last cry, and with an oath,
unsheathed the sword, enemies to smote.

Silent as the night, invisible like sin.
All knowing yet untraceable, like misty wind.
Strong as a storm, fueled by rage,
furiously calm, a warrior sage.

He fought a long battle, won a few wars,
his sword gleamed red, his face earned scars.
Retribution, eye for an eye,
left the kingdom blind, toothless to try.

Try to stop him, they did,
with methods old and new.
Bribe, seduction and other vices,
the jolly motley crew.

Impervious he proved, and the losses kept mounting.
The final battle approached, the hour of reckoning.
And he walked onto the fields, where once flowers bloomed.
The assembled army quivered, awaiting their doom.

What happened at the battle, is a lore we'll never know.
No one returned alive, neither hero nor foe.
The ground had turned red, a stench filled the air,
severed limbs scattered everywhere, in the mad stampede of despair.

They say that when he went down,
he took thirty more with him.
They say when the authority taunted him,
he spat and smiled back at them.

And that was the last that was ever heard,
of the man who never spoke a word.
Who conquered the cowards who hid behind arms,
and never fell prey to their corrupting charms.

The tale of the warrior of the unsheathed blade,
lives on in legend of the truly brave.
We whisper his name, to grant us courage,
while he rests under an unmarked grave.

Progress

Go on a trip to the museum,
All those chimps, when you see em.
Give yourself a pat on the back,
We've come a long way baby.

Take a look at the ground,
sinking under footsteps all around.
It once was the floor of the jungle,
but We've come a long way baby.

Can you hear the roars of the cars,
the cacaphony of conversations?
The bellow of civilisation, that surely proves,
We've come a long way baby.

See that bird, or that majestic beast,
that adorns the giant TV screens?
Once they roamed the earth, in their multitude,
when our deserts were green.

A time when waters flowed free and clear,
gave rise to life, and which now fear,
the return of her plundering murderous children,
snuffing the life that she holds dear.

Sorry, please excuse that cough,
dust riddled lungs don't do me proud.
A cancer on the planet, clogging our skies,
Death in pollution's disguise.

As we strip our forests bare,
and suck the oceans dry.
Our time may be running short but still,
our ambitions still fly high.

And till the last man draws his last sigh,
each of us will still smile.
Pat ourselves on the back and say
We've come a long way baby.

Invasion

You return home after a tiring day out,
a sigh emanates from your lips.
Feel like whooping, too tired to shout,
and slowly, with a dream, sink into the couch.

The world goes silent, or perhaps you grow deaf,
and listen to the music of your soul.
A light that shines from within, fills your eyes,
and you discards the burdens of growing old.

Then the sting, that travels up the spine,
eyes flare open, bliss left behind.
A dread that throbs and burns you up,
a buzz announces terror, come to sup.

The nightmares that never ever leave,
on stormy nights, or humid dreams.
An enemy who cannot be slayed,
mock our progress, to our dismay.

They dwell in our homes, much before we do.
And linger long after we've left.
An evil so ancient that it will endure,
and outlast humanity, with contempt.

You slap your skin here, Oh another spot there!
Stop moving so fast, it isn't fair.
There's one of me, and thousands of you,
powerless in the glare of your stare.

There goes that hum again, the call of pain.
Of parting with blood we'll painfully regain.
I've tried smoke, mats and gel,
yet you soldier on, with total disdain.

I close my doors and windows are shut,
The lords outside try to burn you out.
Yet you always killed and continue to,
helpless we are, our defenses few.

Perhaps we only get our due,
for killing this world to suit our needs.
We may conquer space, land and sea,
but your creed conquers us with glee.

Through the ages, you've truly earned,
the title of being our greatest foe.
We will pray and hope for a day,
when we lay to waste, the menace of the mosquito.

Six Degrees of Solitude

Questions that sear and plague the mind.

Riddles whose answers seem unkind.

Despair that seeps into your bones, so cold.

Worries that leave the young feeling cold.

The burden of the world we seem to bear,

taking on risks we'd never dare.

All for a smile or a loving look,

measuring one's worth, summed up in the pass book.

Envying your peers, as they move on.

Trying to shake off that attitude forlorn.

Lack of opportunities, your only excuse,

which lets you sleep- the classic ruse.

Never admit that you're bored.

Bored of yourself and insecure.

Make a resolution, determined to change,

and fall back into the routine you wanted to disengage.

Now your chair creaks in an empty home.

A shrine to the past that will soon be gone.

And you're forced to admit – you weren't that good.

No one will mourn your passing,

nor they should.