Home

Someday I'll call this too homeMaybe home isnt borne of a state of belonging as it is of nostalgiaMaybe it isnt as much the people as it is the smells they carryThe organized chaosThe sense of having once been

To my muse

I miss you From perfunctory prose to prosaic poetryFrom try hard rhymes to wanabe blank verses I Have traversed and combed through this wreckage of literatureGoing back time and again to yester yearsTo a time when I was mere vectorI miss you and your banter I miss the thoughts conjuredBut more so I miss the …

Isolation

What next on the dinner plate? when is my next pay day? What place to escape to next? When will this day end? When will it end so a new one begins, In which I shall ask What next? what next … W h a t. N e x t!

My mother once said

Years are just numbers and what are numbers if not arbitary ? Instead of a bamboo, some a stiff oak might be And when mighty storms come, they'll break easily. It's okay to tred through paths of life always checking and with uncertainty: Cautious steps also mistakes make but a hasty foot treads less gently …

It’s not the fairytales we wish for

Just the possibility of one..

Every reader there was.

Naive, I picked up a book Daring it to evoke emotion; Asking perhaps her pages to convey something, anything! I'm a convoy on route To promised lands different from my own. A skeptic I am as I board this vessel, I approach it like I do temples and shrines; Quetioned it as I do the …

Dear diary,

Mornings are blue, By night I've conquered the daily fright Someone else might cry 'imposter!' And Steal past to reconquer the night. I sometimes think I should take a break From the noise inside my head But those images behind closed lids- A silent movie forever on repeat- Of happy memories distorting into tales of …

The Tempest

Fear not the loss of egoOr the spite of societyThat mocks those that bow -A bent spine is not a broken oneOr worse still- one that never existed.In strife there must be a loser Yet fear not the battles one must fightFear not the warsAnd the tides that climb high;For ebbs and flows are the …

Growth

Her house is wallpapered in sureality; Dreams she said, are the blueprints of reality Said the earth was red and the sky greenMiss Malaprop, her apprentice had once been. In a burst of spirt she once saidI'll swim the skies and walk the oceans pole to poleI'll move against the tideAnd wake up at midnightGo …

What is beauty

If not graceAnd simplicity Is Stability justA state to be in? Is it wishful fantasy ... What is calmIf not the eye of the storm. Judgement and longingAre they reflections of realityOr projections of our own uncertainty? Aren't most questions in essence RudimentaryAwaiting pre-thought answers uncounciously? Is everything essentially All that what you want it …