Searching for a Voice. 21, London.

Speed It Up

spring bloom, serpentine leaves

evergreen, entwined in me

a spiritual path you were to me

abruptly ended with season change

the blazing sun scorched my pain

emblazoned on my skin that day

you told me you were far away

in mind and soul; eudaimonic phase?

and the silence that prolonged this spell

just panged my heart with heaviness

summer sadness turned to autumn leaves

filtering paths with coloured breeze

time obstructed those gone fantasies

so casually worn upon my sleeve

the shellshock of new seasons seemed

sudden after sullen, summer trees

I walked along in dazed relief

but you came back to hunt my sorrow needs

and now I lie for all to see

in misery, shackled to my grief

don’t come back, come back to me

your silenced words I do not need

27 July 2013

The mother and the children go about their daily ways;

Running and hovering, yelling in jest

The guitar in the background from the Oldest, who held

The record for patience and an unnerving desire

To succeed

The Oldest in their midst calmly aches in her bones

From the special growing pains

Thudding, throbbing tectonic plates

Hidden deep beneath the flesh

She sits serenely in silence

And wonders to herself

Oh to be so young

When the pain of growing was nothing

But transitory passing fun

Oh to not feel the sadness

Of the ending of another Chapter

The closing of another page

The goodbye of another crowd

The regret of counting time

Sipping into the immersing caffeine

Of her darling, cracked mug

She strums the guitar chords

To a trepidation of exciting crescendo

Waiting for the beginning

Another beginning and experience

Of people and stories

Learning and laughter

As time rewinds; repeats  

10 July 2013

“Tonight, sweetheart let us adore one another

Before there is no more you

And there is no more me”

Flung across the ocean

You are a thousand miles away

But your memories are utopia

In my mind you always stay

Walking through the snow-filled roads

An era away from the bliss

Of our blossomed summer together

Passionate nights eclipsed

Yet I close my eyes and see

In my mind, a hazy ghost

I wish you would hold me

As you once did before

Exhilarated, we are no more

Time gave us nothing more

Our souls are now departed

For there is no more me,

And there is no more you 

29 June 2013


why do people label themselves with their passions? 

poets, writers, photographers and painters 

or professions and ambitions? 

lawyers and bankers, businessmen and doctors

should it be our philosophy or religiosity that defines us?

Buddhists, Sikhs, Jains, Atheists…

are we so simple as to use a label, 

pitch it to the public, 

who identify us as them

so that we can converse and show respect?

surely humans are so pluralistic so to not need

identity links and labels to sympathise and comprehend

we can empathise as people

we are all people

identity is plural 

a creation

a myth.

I mean, am I wrong? 

Do I see wrong?   

28 June 2013

ho hey

ignoring the baggage that hangs around

in the background, she says “yes, its true,

I’m happier these days,” impressing even her body

to believe she was sane as she walked so straight

with no thought to the ubiquitous nature of her ways;

the baggage omnipresent, always followed in the shadows,

yet she won’t know until the winter

when the sun doesn’t stay.  

3 June 2013

the pitched rationality against a backdrop of sensibility;

it’s what you thought was normal

so you pitched it to me

and told me that you were 

as normal as you could be,

wondering if that was enough to convince yourself

that saying it out loud, to me and my heart

decimated your crazy, frivolity into the Black Box

of the past.

I wish I could tell you that I believed in your normal

but I know your dishevelled heart;

and it just doesn’t suit up or

doesn’t match up to 

my serenity and my peaceful calm  

7 May 2013

when nothing changes

yet nothing is the same 

simultaneously, together converged 

into one prism of lense, squashed in the square

of my summer shades, not letting me see the day of light

because nothing and everything is trying too hard

to comprise into the frame of lense 

that doesn’t belong to either of them

6 May 2013

"I am what I am" 

a self-repeated phrase, 

a mantra in my mind 

a message of abyss and 


I am what I am, but

who would have thought

that this is what I am 

when I was being

myself, not long ago,

and was not what I am 

today. Who was that, mon cherie?

For it was not me, as 

I am what I am 


27 April 2013
miss you brooklyn 

miss you brooklyn 

21 April 2013


When music feeds those heavy bones, 

In death and sin, I’ve billed remorse. 

20 April 2013

it is when endless cups of tea

define the moments of day, 

becoming the moment itself

where I yell and suppress

the urge to digress 

into something other than my tea

drinking moments into days 

of blissful apathy

19 April 2013

shattered wine glass, 

spilling bloody drops on the thick,

luscious creme rug of decadence

beneath the coarse, laden soles of my feet,

and my toes coloured rich with red polish 

or is it now wine? or blood? imagination;

I see this creation of photographs dissembling

behind my sensory eyes, reflecting melancholy lies

disarray, you cry.

No because my Serenity,

she smites your cries. 

14 April 2013
'You call me lavender, you call me sunshine.'

'You call me lavender, you call me sunshine.'

Fujifilm FinePix S2950
4 April 2013

Squinting into the darkened depths of my room in the early hours of the morning, I struggle to understand; is it the fault of the writers who concoct such beautifying expectations, romanticised misery? Is it the fault of the writers for the yearning that the common man has for elated words in deflated circumstances, creating a love that lives only on paper? Will only the death of such a wonderland bring forth the appreciation of a brittle, harsh and an abysmal real love?


she counts flaws in the capillaries of my skin

that rise beneath the red, velvet under sun. 

the seconds count down the night

shadowing my silver thoughts

streaming from my mind,

as she counts the flaws

colouring my skin 

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