shards...

Poetry is trash

2012-01-18T00:23:00.000-08:00

Burns without ash
and burns within
colorless, odorless
it burns and stings...
not real tears
it’s the eyes
watering from the
stinging smoke of my
burning poem...
All trash to be
burned,
turned into ash
all trash…

So it came to this...

2011-12-08T02:21:00.001-08:00

From vows exchanged
To swords trained
From happily ever after
To end of chapter
From the dark mane
To color and rogaine
Seen and done it all; what’s new?
Still lost within, and have no clue…
Locked up! The body a cage
Oh, it sure is lousy to age!

I write like...

2011-04-11T21:18:00.000-07:00

I visited a site that allows you to paste your writing and then tells you which famous writer your style is most like. And see what I got!

I write like
Margaret Mitchell

I Write Like by Mémoires, journal software. Analyze your writing!

Most pleased :D

Decisions

2011-02-17T00:51:00.000-08:00

Walking through the forest road
I caught a glimpse of a path
That not many feet had trodden
Grass growing where feet once fell
Maybe with good reason?
‘Who knows what I’ll meet, if
I go down that path?’
I turned away and walked on
And have been walking thus…
To things and places pre-ordained
No surprises in store
Far away from the forest now
I think of the old footpath
Who knows what I’d have met, if
I had gone down that path…

the wannabe

2010-10-22T00:57:00.000-07:00

She woke with a start
Too tired, after the
night’s escapades…
With herself and her imaginations
Running wild both
One egging the other on…
She wore lipstick too
Not like the other nights
When it’s just pretend-play
This was the real deal
And boy, it felt good.
Madonna came…
And Elvis was there too
‘She looks pretty’, he’d said.
She sang and won hearts again
And again
And again
And then was too tired
To carry on
Body revolting against mind
She fell on the sofa, asleep,
Smudging lipstick and mascara
And dreaming on…
And on…

Kite Strings

2010-09-21T22:56:00.000-07:00

Just finished reading Andy's Kite Strings and have to say it was the best 175 Rupees I have spent in some time.

All the characters - Mehnaz’s Abbu and Ammi, Rehana, Aasia, Imtiaz, Zohra, Mrs. Dahlia, and my personal favorite, Fauzia, were etched out so well (from Mehnaz’s perspective) that I felt like they are people I know.

Mehnaz, especially, is a very interesting character, because she is not black or white – she is kinda grey, which makes her more life-like than many other characters that we come across in books. It also makes us care for her in ways that we wouldn’t for some others.

For me, it was also a window to this fascinating world so different from mine, culturally. The community and their customs, beliefs, etc, were quite alien to me. But that’s where the alienism ends – for everything else I can relate to. I guess any Indian girl can relate to.

The feeling that you want ‘to do something’. The uncertainty about life and what it holds. The feeling of being a kite with the string in another’s hands. The feeling of never living up to your mother’s standards :)

What I really liked about Andaleeb’s writing was the flow and the simple honesty. You know she is a writer who doesn’t hold back – she brings it all out and arranges it on the page with an easy grace.

I thought the ending was beautiful. Open, with so many possibilities. Just like the terrace Mehnaz likes to frequent :)

Kudos to you, Andy, for such a commendable debut – here’s to many more yarns in the years to come!

Who am I?

2010-08-03T21:11:00.001-07:00

We had this Friday fun event at CDG (my department) where we had to do something on the topic 'Who am I?' Most people drew and sketched and made collages. What a talent! Since I am a total dud at drawing/sketching, I decided to write a poem instead. Posting it here now.

Who am I?

I am the one who walks alone
Yet stands by you when all are gone

I am the one who hears it all
Seems quite small, but still stands tall

I am the one who values friends
And believes means mean more than ends

Journey, to me means more than the destination
Still I am the one who’s marred by consternation

But oh, how I wish I knew who I am!

I am not the one I see in the mirror
I am not the one you see either

I am more, much more than this, I know
But nothing of me I can bare or show

I might just live in this corner of the world
And then die one day without having been told

Who I was and what this life was for
Just always headed to the next open door

Like levels in a game of increasing skill
Life will ebb away when I don’t get my fill

Of life, of love, of warmth and health
Of honest passion, without stealth

So long! And I will say this before the gong chimes -
I like being among you, O, people of my times!

drawing a blank

2009-11-22T01:02:00.000-08:00

paper and mind went blank ___

just like that...

not even a 'poof'

funny; just a while ago, my mind was

a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions

now... nothingness abounds

amusing, isn't it?

how you can go on

even when you have

nothing at all to say?

mutual curiosity

2008-12-31T22:13:00.000-08:00

A tiny spider, all by himself,
Spinning a web of the thinnest string

‘Whom do you hope to catch?
For whom is this trap?’

I ask, and watch enthralled for a while
Then peeling my eyes off the window

At my own reflection I stare; I
Powder my face and wear mascara

I paint my lips in the bloodiest of reds
And line my eyes with the darkest of kohls

The spider has crawled to my window sill
Peering at me and responding in kind

‘Whom do you hope to catch?
For whom is this trap?’

Yashodhara’s lament

2008-11-24T22:19:00.000-08:00

A slight noise, and
Hope raises its eyes again,
Straining into the darkness
Beyond the awnings
Someone walks
Is that perhaps, you?
But no, alas! It’s not.
Hope that had raised its eyes,
Lowers it now.
Everyone comes back
Returns to their nests
Where be you, O charmed one?
Where be you?
Rest; I tell myself
let that blessed blanket
Of sleep fall,
Cover hope’s eyes.
Tomorrow, I shall see
Some other souls
Who smile at me,
Not utterly unkind
They will say again
That you will come
Back to me, back to us -
But I see not hope in their eyes
I see not hope, my lord
I dreamed once
That you and I walked
Together into the sunset
Hand in hand
It was not an impossible dream
Not oil on water
So easily moved with
A blow of the wind.
I was tied to you
And you to me
In the most unknot-able ways
And you undid it
When, I know not
But it was not the night
You left my side, I know
It was long before
And I never knew
When? How? Why?
I ask myself
Questions, reverberating
Through me and into the heavens
Like the hymns you
Now chant somewhere
I fear for me, O loved one!
I fear for us, and ours
Waiting in this gazebo
Night after night
I slowly come undone
At my hinges
I slowly come undone

A little dose of happiness

2008-10-01T03:42:00.000-07:00

Most of us are guilty of living for another day/time. Always waiting for the future. Tomorrow… next month… next year…. The time’s just never right to be happy today. Because today, I have work; because today, I need to finish this and that; because today is not Friday. ‘When I lose weight, I’ll be happy.’ ‘When I go on a holiday, I will be happy.’ But I know myself, if/when I lose weight, I will find some other reason to be unhappy. When I go on a holiday, I will come back guilty and fat and be unhappy again. Because as I have just discovered – I just don’t know how to be happy. I just don’t rejoice in teensy little happy moments, I don’t harvest them, don’t harness them.

I’ve always looked at happy people and thought how lucky they were – it was akin to winning a lottery prize or something. It is now slowly dawning on me that happiness is not an event. It’s not something that happens to you because you are lucky, not something you stumble upon because you are serendipitous.

A know a guy who keeps smiling all the time. He’s not extraordinarily good looking, he is not suave, sophisticated, or anything – but he smiles. And that smile, believe me when I say this, is the most contagious thing after conjunctivitis. I find myself smiling too when I meet him. It’s simple and genuine, not the ‘with effort’ smile I sometimes see on the faces of my other acquaintances, and on my own face, of course (my own smile appears to me to be ‘with effort and with pain’ like I am overdosed with ‘you no poo’ or something.)

When I was younger, I believed that I need to be beautiful, have a lot of money, be popular, and have the undivided attention of a handsome man to be happy. And because I don’t have all this, I must remain unhappy. But this man smiling man I mentioned, he doesn’t seem to have any of the items on this list (well, he may not be particularly interested in the ‘handsome man’ so scratch that). Then how does he look so deliriously happy?

I wonder where along the way we get this ‘attitude’ towards happiness. Children seem so happy, they smile a lot (they cry a lot too, but let’s discount that). Maybe it starts young, this inability to be happy. To whine, to crib, to look at the half-emptiness and never the half-fullness.

So, I am making a small vow to myself today – I am going to try to be happy. Why try – I am happy! See, this is already working! :) :) :)

I am going to smile, ‘smile even in my liver’ like in Eat, Pray, Love (if you’ve not read this lovely book – please do!). Yes, I am smiling in my liver and my gut and my kidney and my gall-bladder and… okay, I know you get the picture. So I am so going to do just that!

Signed
Happy-happy me
*All smiles*

the will and the way

2008-08-12T01:47:00.000-07:00

Once will said to the way
Come with me, come away
The way just quietly lay
Ignored will, looked away

Will had had her say
But the way did never sway
And that is the day
Will made her own way

Things at times have a way
Of falling apart and falling away
But like they always say,
Where there's a will, there's a way

The morning after

2008-08-05T21:20:00.000-07:00

Scattered pieces of china
The only
Remnants of my anger
Staring back at me
Demanding reason.
I cannot think
Of a good enough one
Now, the morning after.
Then, it seemed important
That it doesn’t remain whole
That I crash and break and
Let them know
I am angry, I am not happy.
Now, I am too tired to be
Angry, sad, or upset
I want to get up
Pick up these pieces;
But neat spaces, clean floors,
Everything seems unimportant
Now, the morning after

Mechanical

2008-07-01T23:27:00.000-07:00

Typing, driving …
How they told us
would be mechanical
once we learnt them.
At first daunting
- the A, B, C
then starting to come
easily …
Changing gears
like a pro,
spinning tales
in minutes,
hands and fingers
finding the A, B, C
mechanically.
Life too
in some ways
is like that these days
the freshness gone
the stale A, B, Cs
of life left alone.
I don’t stare at them
with wonder galore
don’t look for them
to find them anymore.
Hands move
mechanically
to the alarm clock,
and then
to the toothbrush.
Smiles and frowns
are mechanical
and so is saying,
“I love you.”

Ambition

2008-06-25T22:01:00.000-07:00

The gates stand open
you can walk in;
about returning though,
no guarantees
are given.
You start walking
thinking you want to
get there soon,
get there at any cost
you walk fast, faster
and trot some too
and then you see
that you are sure no longer -
is this where you wanted to go?
You haven’t got there yet,
but the pathway scares you,
and so do your co-passengers
why do all of them
resemble scavengers?
Now you are sure,
‘This is not what I wanted!’
But you are tired
you are more than
half way across
and the scavengers
are waiting for you
to slow down
or change course.
And so you walk on
to where you are so
sure, you no longer
want to go…

on my guard

2008-06-19T23:31:00.000-07:00

I am tired -
of phony smiles
expensive scents
and sprits
and inexpensive
consciences.
Free loves
and freer moralities.
People meandering
through the party
with their
insignificant others
“How are you?’s
and no answers
listened to.
Virtual memories,
and artificial laughter
I am so tired,
but I cannot,
not for a second,
let it be known
that I am not
one of them
once they know
they will
Sympathize
‘Tch tch’, they’ll whisper
‘She seemed so normal.’

happiness

2008-06-19T23:21:00.000-07:00

I dreamt yesterday
of walking to the door
of a room
yes, full of happiness
it was; I knew
ere entering
as is the nature
of such dreams.
And I knocked
the polished
brass knocker
with anticipation
… no trepidation.
The door opened
soundlessly
I walked in
and found myself
yes, full of happiness
which was
within, not without
I looked around at
the vast emptiness
and felt truly
- happy -
for the first time

Norms

2008-06-19T21:56:00.000-07:00

In a strange world where
it’s norm
to talk in rhymes
a baby wailing for milk
cries in cadences
a little older, says,
‘I hunger for milk
so kind mama,
give some, like
mothers of your ilk’
a dying man
not able to form
a coherent rhyme
dies without saying
anything at all.
Haven’t you heard
of free-verse
my good folks?

A day in the life of a dunce

2008-02-27T03:37:00.000-08:00

This is not a morale-boosting post. If anything, it bursts the bubble of my vanity. Okay, here we go.

This is one of those things that you always feel happens to other people, “Not me, I am so…” So what? So what, exactly?

I recently realized that I am not so anything! Can you imagine what happened that led me into thinking this? Well it is simple – I wore my bathroom slippers to work. No, not intentionally, don’t be silly! I am not such a dunce! But I am dunce enough to not notice that I am wearing bathroom slippers and walk out of the house, and … wait, let me do this properly.

Ms. Manjusha (that’s me!) takes her bath and comes out of the bathroom, dresses, combs her hair, makes her kid wear his uniform, ties his show-laces, says “ba-byee” to 3 people in the house, walks to the bus stop, boards the bus to her office, rides on the bus, gets off the bus, walks to her building. And, this is when she notices that she’s wearing bathroom slippers! Oh, tragedy!

I am surprised that throughout this whole time, I never looked at my feet! I can only pray that no one else did either! I suddenly had a flash of memory (thank god) of Shilpa (a colleague) saying she always keeps a spare pair of footwear. So change of plans, about turn and forward march to Shilpa’s building instead, praying all the time that she does have that spare-pair she told me about last year!

First problem – elevator! The moving box - it’s such a boring place, no? I always find myself looking at people’s feet in the elevator. What else to distract myself with? I can’t look at their faces, that would be so, so, oh I don’t know – inappropriate? “I am just checking you out ‘coz I am bored.” Now that is terrible! So my problem is this now – won’t other bored specimens in the elevator look at the collection of feet in there, and catch me wearing – yeah, right – bathroom slippers! Now is when I fully appreciated the beauty of having a laptop. Laptop? Yup, you read right. Yours truly inconspicuously moves to the back of the elevator, and plants the laptop bag in front of her feet. Graceful move – ten on ten.

Okay problem one over. Now walking to Shilpa’s cubicle and wondering if her footwear will fit me. Srija, who’s been walking with me from the bus, finds it extremely funny, and laughs at me like a true friend. She says, “Even if it is a little small or big, you’ve got to manage for the day somehow, because you cannot move around in the office with these!” She points to my slippers. Yes, point taken.

Okay, so we get to Shilpa’s cube, and there she is. I say in a low voice, “Shilpa, do you have a spare pair of footwear? You told me that you keep a pair in office, just in case.”
“Oh, yes. Why? What hap..” and that’s when she sees my feet. Okay she laughed. She said “Bravo, Manju!” Everyone in the vicinity came to take a look. This company needs to keep their tech-writers busy! What are they doing wasting time looking at people’s feet, anyway? :-\

So all of them have a good morning laugh and wake up properly. As for me, I was wide-awake ever since my eyes fell on the wretched slippers (Oh they are so horrible, you’ve got to see to believe). “Anything, would be better than these.” Srija’s words.

But the worst is not over yet – Shilpa turns around and takes out a pair of, hold your breath, red slip-ons. Red, OMG, red! And I was wearing a beige-gray outfit, what a lovely combination it would be! But what choice do beggars have?

So I take the red slip-ons and try them, almost my size, just slightly big. That’s when I noticed Shilpa’s footwear – beige. And she was wearing a beige outfit with red flowers. So I say, “Shilpa, why don’t you wear the red and give me the pair you are wearing.” You have to admire my shamelessness at this point. She’s like, “I don’t want to.”
*sigh* And I go “Please, it will go with your dress. Look at how I am dressed, the footwear will stand out.” With my footwear though, it was a mystery why the guard hadn’t asked me to stand out.

To cut a long story short, everyone in the cubicle thought Shilpa could manage with the red pair (bless them!) and she agreed to exchange (she is sweet!). And thus I became the proud wearer of the beige footwear, a tad loose, but quite presentable!

Needless to say, it was a big blow to my confidence. “How can I be so…”
Yes, now I know I can be all that and more. I am human, after all - growing older everyday. Blossoming into a forgetful, fretful, dunce!

Epilogue: Ms Manjusha has since thrown away the horrible bathroom slippers. She’s got herself a respectable pair of slippers for home-wear which wouldn’t result in a catastrophe if worn to work by mistake.

on a song

2008-02-11T03:14:00.000-08:00

You can search for a song in any of the search engines by entering bits of the title, the lyrics, or the singer/ musician’s name. I wish there was a super intelligent search engine to tell you some other things: the song you have been humming since yesterday, for instance.

A search engine to search tunes, yes. Incredible idea don’t you think? Okay so I enter ‘ta ra ra ra raaa raaaaaa ra raa’ and I get the song that has been doing the rounds in my head for the past so many hours!

*sigh* I know when I see a lost cause. I give up :-\

And I also know it will come to me, in a flash, once I stop thinking about it.

For the living

2008-01-23T22:27:00.000-08:00

The lovely walk,
Along a tree-lined path
The green, the yellow,
The mustard, the brown
My eyes soak in
The beauty of the world
The smell of earth,
The touch of the grass
The feel of the sun
On my cheek
The wind tousling
My hair carelessly
I love it all
I drink it in

A rendezvous
with friends and beau
The kisses, the hugs,
The jokes, the gossip,
The stories told
The hands I hold
My heart soars
With joy, with glee
The lover serenades,
Plays a lovely song
Music divine
Blesses my mind
The piano, the guitar,
The harp, the sitar
The loving arms
Around my shoulders
The look in those eyes
The happy smiles

The table set
With all the care
Drinks and eats
To sate and spare
The color of the wine
The feel of the bread
The salt, the sweet,
The sourness, the spice
I smell, I taste,
I feel the food
I revel in it
And I feel alive

I wonder with a slight pang
If I truly understand?
That all the beauty,
All the joys,
Are there for the living alone...
What is smell, taste, sight, feeling?
To a man, who is far-gone?
Gone beyond the realm
Of the world we know
Wonder if he thinks back?
Wonder what he misses?

Likeness

2007-12-18T01:08:00.000-08:00

You are not a friend
You are not a foe,
But I dislike you
The more I get to know

What is it that irks?
I ask of my mind
Everything about this person
Objectionable I find

Is it the smile then?
Or is it the words?
Is it the countenance?
That tugs at hatred’s chords?

Surely your heart’s black?
But how am I to know?
For I can’t read minds
And hearts too for sure

Is it the laughter,
That sounds unnatural?
Or is the spite
That seems quite natural

Yes you are hate-able, despicable
But why?
Why can’t I like you
However hard I try?

False pride you have
And think none’s above you
You are difficult
How’s anyone to love you?

I suddenly have my answer
I suddenly know
The hatred stems from me when
I see myself in you

To be myself

2007-11-21T21:50:00.000-08:00

One day, that’s all I ask
One day as you
Is it possible?
Can it be true?

Let’s barter our lives
You give me yours
And I’ll give you mine
My minutes, my hours

How would it be to be you?
To look through those eyes
To feel that skin around my body
To speak that silky voice

Oh, and while you use this life
Maybe you should know
The knee creaks a little
And the laugh lines show

It’s quite fine actually
Works well most days
Only some blue times
It rocks and sways

Good old life of mine
I didn’t hate it always
I do smile a lot
When I think of old days

Like the rainy day when
I first met that man
The smiling eyes
The promise of dawn

The swagger of youth
The bliss of love
The ecstasy of faith
And the flight of a dove

I think I’ll let it pass this time
I think it’s okay
Today, I want to be myself
Maybe you... another day?

Almost Made

2007-11-21T21:30:00.000-08:00

You come dressed in shades of black
When I sit back and begin to slack
You don’t speak, nothing you say
But I want to be walking away

I look at the ceiling white
And think if I just might
See your face in every glare
Of the lovely chandelier

You seem to move your mouth
I want to scream and shout
Are you speaking a strange tongue?
Or is this the song we sung?

You say you wish me well
And you’d rather not tell
That sorry tale long forgotten
That bares my heart rotten

I close my eyes and sigh
But I wonder by and by
Why you came to serenade
When I had it almost made

Now all my joys are your alms
All my success a gift off your palms
All my grandeurs cascade
Alas! I had it almost made

spiral

2007-10-11T04:16:00.000-07:00

you nudge me
I nudge you
you judge me
I judge you
the world is a spiral
goes and comes
you do unto me
what I do unto you
can we just stop,
let the pretensions drop?
Can you let me be me
and can I let you be you?
are you scared of finding me?
I admit I am scared of finding you
hush, was I loud?
what if someone hears?
the constant rambling
of my fears...

Trying to be nice to the inanimate(s)

2007-09-10T02:27:00.000-07:00

When a friend came to visit, I showed her my wardrobe and pointed to my new dress enthusiastically. ‘This is the best I have!’, I said. After she left I felt quite guilty, walked up to the wardrobe, held the hem of my old favorite and said, “You are nice too, I was just kidding”.

I am the one who tries to smile at flowers, talk to trees, soothe my computer with pats saying, ‘It’s okay baby, take it cool’, when it starts to hang.

I can make a simple task, like walking, quite complicated. I like to put my foot in the middle of a tile, hate it if I have to put it on the line or at the corner. Some days I don’t give it a thought, those are the good days; normally, I spend too much time and energy making sure that I don’t hurt the tiles by not stepping in the dead centre.

I always keep at least two of everything, two pens, two spoons, so that they can have company and don’t feel lonely. Sometimes I wear old clothes just so that they get an outing; I know how bad it feels to be at home for days on end.

Russell Baker once said, “The goal of all inanimate objects is to resist man and ultimately defeat him.” So will they defeat me? But am I in a battle with them? No, I don’t think so. I just see life in everything. My clothes, my toothbrush, my computer, all live with me. They share time and space with me.

But sometimes I feel, maybe it’s the other way round, it’s not that I see life in them. It’s just that I see death in myself. I know eventually, sooner or later, I’ll join their club. But till then, I am just being nice, just like how we are nice to a new neighbor – we want them on our side, we want them to think we are good and no trouble.

Yes my dear footrest, I like you too, don’t mind my stamping you *grin*.

Fear

2007-09-10T01:54:00.000-07:00

Lurking behind the eyelids
Peeking through
Struggling to jump out of
The recesses of my mind
Muffled and pushed back again

Telling me to attack now
Then urging me to flee
Compelling me to lie
Convincing me to deceive

Making my feet go numb
Making me feel
The ice in my spine
Towering over my existence
Making me smaller everyday

You make me what I am
You made me what I was
You are my twin
I never conceded

Into my own shell
I always receded
Only to be pushed by you again
Pushed always

Sometimes I think how life would be
If I could just strangle you
And be free
Step out of your shadow forever

But I know I must have you
To keep alive
To go on living
To protect myself
And those I love

Death vs Death

2007-09-10T01:31:00.000-07:00

Half a prayer, a stifled scream
I woke up sweating, it was just a dream

Panting hard, I tried to think
Eyes open wide, scared to blink

‘Only a dream’ I told myself
Put the fears back on the shelf

But deep within I hear a rumble
‘Why not you? You too will crumble’

Half a prayer, or not even that?
A stifled scream, is it all I got?

I know not many get the chance
To pack up and say goodbye in advance

The shuddering dread of approaching death
Versus the stifled scream, in my last breath

Do I want this? Or do I want that?
‘Not your choice!’ Destiny spat

I turn my body on the bed
And turn the thought in my head

My tired body, a ticking clock
Destiny’s blows it cannot block

It’s a thought to behold and keep
But I slowly return to slumber deep

Unknown to me, my destiny does hold
A secret hitherto untold
To which death was my soul pledged?
Can’t wait for life to unfold…

Saying no… to food

2006-12-01T00:40:00.000-08:00

Picture this: you go to someone’s house and they offer you something delicious to eat, you say “No, thanks, I just ate.” Even when your stomach is saying ‘grrrrrrr liar! It’s been so long since I got anything at all’.

Sounds familiar? I recently attended a training session on ‘assertiveness skills’. One of the things they talked about was ‘how to say no’. Do we Indians need to be taught how to say no? Why, we say ‘no’ all the time, don’t we? It’s our culture to first refuse and then think.

I thought long and hard but can’t come up with one good reason to refuse food when you are hungry! And the adage is always “why trouble them”. This spells trouble! Really! How many times have you said ‘no’ repeatedly and still the host insisted on shoving some food down your throat? That’s our culture - the guest should keep refusing and the host should keep insisting! The hosts think it’s really bad to let an un-fed guest walk out of the house.

Where does this leave people like me? For the record - I am very honest! When I say ‘no’ I mean ‘NO’ (in most cases). When someone offers food and I am hungry I say “thanks” and gobble it up. But when I really don’t need it and people insist, I just don’t know what to do!

What’s with this refusing food and drink I do not know. I know a certain person (name withheld for fear of physical harm) who thinks it is really lowly to accept food or drink at a host’s house. This person goes to weddings, wishes the bride and groom and then, guess? Yeah, walks out! This is just too intriguing for a glutton like me to understand – how can someone walk away from all that food? When I go to weddings, I normally need to be reminded that ‘there is the bride and groom to be wished too!’

And when I get guests at home, I ask them “shall I make tea?” and when they say “No, don’t bother” I smile and say, “Okay.” and plonk onto the sofa next to them. Well, people at home do get really angry with me for asking at all, “That’s what they’ll say, you shouldn’t ask at all, just make the tea and…”. Yeah got it …pour it down their esophagus.

I guess I’ll just remain me and the rest of the world, the rest of the world. *sighhhh* I make my peace with the fact that I have to keep insisting on stuffing you up with food when you come home and get ready to be fed up in return when I visit yours!

Hope

2006-11-29T03:02:00.000-08:00

Someday… some way
You will seek me out

When the day melts into the creases of dusk
When the mist floats into streets and hearts
When the cold night starts to freeze the soul
You will seek me out

When darkness darker than kohl descends
When through labyrinths the soul transcends
When the sound of my name is lost to me
You will seek me out

To thaw my heart
To bless my soul
To awaken me from slumber old
You will seek me out

Poem (humor) - A bad command or filename

2006-11-29T02:40:00.000-08:00

On my way back home one day
I encountered someone I knew
A long lost friend or forgotten foe,
Too much time has lapsed, with surety for me to know

I dicker in my mind
Not knowing what to do
Whether to smile in acknowledgement
Or to turn my face away in reprove

The face opposite
Has an expression most random
It just says “I know thee”
But nothing else can I fathom

Oh my dilemma!
Now I shall surely lose this case
Useless mind of mine!
Can’t you put a name to a face??

And all this passed
With only a couple of moments to spare
I am all aflutter
And ‘someone’ is moving out of my sphere

I feel like an idiot
With a bubble around my head
And think about this someone later
While tucked in my bed

I beg my fuzzy mind
“Puleeeeze tell me that someone’s name”
And my dear 'ol mind says,
“Bad command or filename”