Blue Fever

Blue, the pools are
full to the brim.
Hangover from four days of
binge on home-made sweet brews
strains the valves;
the plumbing squeaks and bulges.
 
But optical illusions and
a seven-hour old chart
forces me into a train;
while unshed tears,
a rusted, hard and cold bed
ensured I felt every single
beat of my self till the auto ride
to reality. Back to fever!

Ride and Seek!

Gentle twists, a schoolboy’s will
to ease the miniature motor
through the chicane from yesteryears.
A right and a left, in slow motion
the bike was urged as an old
family fortress coughed on the left
while the watch tower loomed,
it still keeps an eye on the
blue-and-white teens mugging up
theorems to cut short their heaven.

An open ground and a palace
left in the dust, yellow memoirs zip past.
Ahoy! The market where dreams
were made, pumped with Iron,
oiled and then dumped,
the end of innocence.

(Yesterday evening’s bike ride from Santa Cruz school to Pattalam ground through the road beside the unused water tank, my old school Britto and the Bishop’s Palace, was indeed part of a normal commute home after an evening stroll at Fort Kochi beach. A 500-metre or so long trip which lasted around 30 seconds; but a life-time of memories this road carries for me and some flashed by, in the same pace as the eight or so Sodium vapour street lamps I left behind during the ride.)

Side Story!

Left, near to my heart,

the cool touch from
a past not so close,
but not so far either.
The summer respite
takes me across that great divide,
to a paradise fenced; just a glimpse,
but it's there, a school yard.

Right, dear to my heart
the warmth from the present,
safe in a cocoon of love;
her open arms send the
great winter out yonder,
it's time for spring and love.
Best from both the sides,
Easter's finally here!

Pain Old Will

The humid presence I felt,

of the man inside,
with a will to stand his ground,
for "lies" - truth for me,
maybe not so for the shepherds
of the flock, lost up
the mount of no return.
Touché! I'm your man...

For I felt my guts today,
though the revelation was painful,
it shook me... minutes,
the dull burn from
the weight of expectations
I carry ever since I was born.

Flong Re-Flong!

I cherish them;

but how they never last,
the good Flongs in life.

Hate, the word of the day;
fate, yeah love exists,
prisoned in a lie called life...

But they never last.

Can't escape the mirror's scorn;
the man walks though, chin up,
on hot coal his ego laid...

But they never last,
Flings or Flongs, does it matter?

Sin, dance and sing,
eat merry, the numbered berries;
for you, me and even God...

But they never last.

Dead Man Walking!

Can u love a Dead Man Walking?
Then find heart to kiss me...

... Else, leave me at my misery,
at the mercy of vultures
across the midnight tarmac.
Leave me, leave me n go,
for I've been killed
by a million stakes,
laced with poison, with lust.
Let me go, no curious sights
in here but gore;
take your flight, lest I may impose,
pray impress ye heart;
the charms of a Dead Man Walking!

Blue Bled!

They poured, sweat and dough,
within the overcrowded taverns
selling opium on giant walls
that shifted with the collective
sighs, the roars;
taken down after a General made
his strategic final stand in a flash,
Onward across the battlefield.
 
Kings of the smallest well!
Ruling with less than two stones of fool's gold,
held aloft by silver and gild.
Funny, a world of ten-and-a-bit United Nations.
Tonight 'em jumping jacks n lasses,
they drink as the stake holders
stack Greens in their sewer vaults;
while the pitch bleeds! Blue?

Loser Talk

The cold, snaking

salted trickle from the
two anxious, dying seas,
bridged the eardrums before
mixing with the sticky summer air;
the vapour lingers, foul to the soul.

Mouthwash can't remove this
stench of decaying dreams,
from the depths of a heart
ready to be loved.
But, truth is a curse, it remains...
Who will love a loser?