Rain Man

I will contradict myself in every way, to drive you in circles

and say these words, that mean nothing to me

Maybe I was wronged; flowers don’t grow from concrete

The hidden meanings, motivational phrases,

out of context.


So advanced, double-think, nervous laughter

Pedestrians; both figuratively and literally

Every step taken is supposed to leave blisters on feet this sore

Only the morally superior, will possibly observe dementia

as a two-way road to salvation

Just as the witness becomes the culprit

For not confessing

The day to day musings, suddenly fall to place

“I have plenty. Look, I can count as many fingers

as toes” said the ruler to his foes

“I’m left-handed, is that bad luck?” When a confident man becomes conceited

There’s no going back

“I… excuse me


it wasn’t raining till you got here”

“Well, in that case,

umbrella for two?”

And just as I prayed for mud, the pavement was washed cleaned.



The man in the sky

Your shape becomes transparent

Hands that spoke for you,

Now linger in this demise

Leave no clue, maybe tomorrow

Hope is one filthy bastard, isn’t it?

Maybe the day after, maybe never

You are bartered, material for sentiment

Word for word. You are not ready

My trademark is the wind. What’s yours?

Kind of like, a crying violin

The man in the sky takes credit for

Borrowings, these. Carefully spilling unto your sponge-like swaying

Jaguar without print

Bone on a boneless structure, skeleton-less

Toys lie on a floor, where children walk barefoot no more.

Kites in the middle of rain, flew high

And each drop pierced through them making our eyes wet.

Fate decides, we shall meet in between the wondering

‘I would if I could, but I can’t so I shan’t’; excuses

Miles and miles afar, I see a shadow cornering another shadow

And my mannequins’ signature from afar, letting strings pull an inward war

I’m six feet tall, and I feel six feet empty

I have pale skin, like a jaguar without print

Although you, entwining hair, knotted voice

‘Let some light into that cavern, its already a fire ablaze’

Forming a mirage of waves that speak your name,

temporary fame,

What a shame

Chords of wisdom, dividing a dead end street with a transparent wall

With art, that meant graffiti could now portray what print didn’t

And what reflected back, was us in a crystal,

I have never seen anything as fragile, as ego within ego

Superstitions, like standing beneath an apple tree with your hands open

With a prayer, hoping for some juice

Blame luck, destiny, karma; for a rotten one

There’s a worm in between, a curse through the years

A small one, your root to ungratefulness

None falling; God conspiring against you

The thing is, believer of the skies

You could have reached it yourself with a climb, a stick or a stone, which ever, whenever

Yet, instead, you were like the jaguar without print,

Who thought it was no jaguar at all

Who didn’t roar, who didn’t speed when prey approached

And so it became prey itself

A half filled glass of liquor in a coffee shop…


Concrete dogmas are as fleeting as a bird
Whose nest is swept by the winds
Of a forelorn future

Dreams slain for peaceful sleep
Fingers tied for smoother handcuffs
Does it spoil the child, or does it make your job easier for you?

Streets ruptured for seeing the truth of someone, in between themselves
Feet stumbling, artists retreating into you
A cave, a stage, for blue men
A shaky voice had torn open a rift in the clouds


Attachment is a disease
Cure only imaginary. Left untouched and it may try
And think it wants the world to lick its final cry
Don’t know what’s worse, to devour or be devoured
To lose or to let lose,
To reign only to avenge the winners
Call it a reformatory for the wicked, brutal enough

Pen turns to spade

nakedness an armour repulsing prey

Reversing time
Is possible
For all you’ve built
From machines and back to repairing screws

I tamed a wild beast
But was still uneasy
Because I was worse
Than the already worst
The only consciousness I had, wasn’t on their behalf
But because of this simple thought
That if they could ruin the world just by being
So could I

Composing symphonies
Tapping sticks and mimicking

‌A tune I learnt since I was two

Tip, tap, tippitie tappity tip titip ti boo.

Walk with me

The way you leave
Says more about you
Than from what you created in between

Like a kettle boiling water up its nose
It still manages to sing
Or the acrylics on your desk
That mixed well to re-create its steam

Or like the glass that came crashing down
For losing emotion over something you hadn’t done

Windows creaking
Birds laughing at our doors
This hierarchy
Doesn’t make sense


All this time I asked God to do something to change my life

He was waiting on me.

Sometimes a second wants to stretch to two
Sometimes a minute wants to shrink for someone asking who’

I guess
Everything paves a way
For you
To pave your own.

Guilty conscience

At your doorstep there’s a mat
I wipe my muddy shoes with
If there was ever gum that stuck
I would smile at the nylon and you would call me delusional

It’s like zebras hugging each other
With the intention of blending in
To their stripes
Only to find
That to each its own

However obvious it may sound
Hazel is neither gold, and wise, nor green and new
It’s nature feeling unapologetic for, experimenting with power and its genes.

How iconic is a knife to the hands that slay
Existing in between excuses for the slain
Dreams given and killed by the same hands
Enslaved in this pursuit for freedom, ‘Dulce et Decorum est’

But like a lie, within a lie, within another lie
Trust built on brick and not foundation, was sold
Bargained for a clean soul, caged in for another smudge to rub
That only grew bigger with each flip of a page, a guilty conscience needing no accuser.

Meet my kind

Corners, made from paper

Restrict the very purpose they were created for; liberation.

You tell me, I need to be worthy of an education to gain one?

I tell you, even the intellectual, wonder of a parallel universe

With validation sought only after death, with work praised only after there is no secondary thought to explain!

To be known, to be glorified! To this narcissistic fantasy to hit a home run

With brainwaves neglecting their own migraines.

Imagine the space you were in, was empty. Blank. Plain.

Did you? Then strike! Strike lasers with open vision, hungry, insane, fed up with soot

Can you? Blast the whole goddamned place! Create your own disaster

Do you see it now? What difference does it make?

Wipe the dust off, call white vultures to eat thy rotten meat

Raise your hands up to the sky and for once, give it all instead of taking it in.


It’s as if cannibals

Poured salt over themselves and called it quits

On this ache without a surface

‌Sun-burnt for never getting out of this shade.

Faces buried in sand, think God.

And the ones meandering, think flood.

Printing numbers, foil and scrape

To gain luck and revenge on an eye for an eye

Truth for a lie

Another warning to defy?


Dream for me a spine erect to stand firm

When devastated with permanent kings arising from temporary homes

Flung me in, shove me back, anywhere

I need no home, no hearth, no drone


‌Too distant a world

To acknowledge mystery ‌‌

Bathing in an optical spectrum

As if they were ever going to find answers

In between

Facts and figures, findings; collecting abstracts!


‌People are afraid

Of the crippled and their wrecked fame


Shattered glass

Misaligned cartridges

Or beaten chains on a bicycle

Torn bags

Their transparency

Misdirection, calls home

To disaster

Stay away

‌ ‌‌

This dust devil

Grows into a gale

Like a spasm on a broken rib

Fighting an inward war

To reveal itself

In all four elements

Water with its whirlpool, air with hurricanes

Earth embarrassed of its roots


And you thought

Earthquakes were a natural phenomena

Plate tectonics showing indignation through wrath?


Lava wants to smell wildfires, meet its kind

‌‌I wonder if I can ever meet my own. See myself for all I owe, and all I’m owed.

I’m on my way, I’m not too far.