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  • godofsmallmusings 195w

    20:39
    30/04

    The pain, today, is more more than what my poetry could bear.

    MAJOR POST

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    Sore Shoulders


    I woke up this morning with a sore shoulder.
    Perhaps, I had been sleeping on my shoulder the whole night.
    Outside was dark,
    And from my bed I couldn't make out anything.
    No beginning and no end.
    Just thoughts of you emerging from the gloom.
    Yes, I still hallucinate about you, Sarah.

    Anyone who knows me,
    Knows that I am not anyone extraordinary.
    I might never attract anyone or anything worthwhile.
    Or turn anyone on with anything.
    But I'll listen to you even if no one else does.
    Especially, if no one else does.
    Perhaps I can try being funny.
    And I can most certainly make you feel wanted.
    I am a simple guy and words are all I have to take your breath away.

    I've always been like this.
    And I've always thought that it was enough.

    And then I met you and for the first time, it wasn't.
    For the first time, I thought I could become something more than I had ever thought of, Sarah;
    Do something, my mind had never conceived.

    You know, right? I had never fallen for you.
    To me, you were always the one I wished to fly for.

    We have come a long way, now.
    Those were precious years and a lifetime,
    what I gave away, Sarah.
    Yet I must save myself now, stop the pain;
    Before I die, there's so much to do, so much to see;
    Look for a miracle, see if I can enjoy the rain.

    The light blinds me as I approach your end, Sarah;
    Just like it blinds you in the tunnel;
    Yet I sometimes smile at the thought of you, Sarah;
    Just like the sky smiles at the birds' chirrups,
    Just like the roads smile at the
    Memory of that wanderer's murmur.

    I slept with an extra pound of regret on my shoulder
    the last night I guess, as I close my eyes, giving in to gravity once again.


    ©Krishanu

  • godofsmallmusings 196w

    21:17
    23/04

    My heart is the coldest corner in the room, just in case.

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    Window


    The sun tiptoes in
    While I'm sitting by the open window,
    Looking desperately for answers
    In the horizon across.

    The sun tiptoes in with naked feet
    And with it comes barging
    The shadow of memories,
    Unbidden.
    Its arm taking hold of my neck,
    Tightening me in its grip,
    And soon I am held bondage.
    I anxiously fight to break free
    Or mourn, simply, my inability,
    Or just try to breathe.

    But not breathing.
    Never breathing.

    The wind gushes in faintly,
    Veiled in a dusty yellow of the day,
    Its breath sweet like roses and mangoes,
    And its fingers deviously
    Pushing away the blinds
    With its arms spreading
    In the empty space,
    Reaching out
    For the coldest corner of the room,

    Yet not reaching.
    Never reaching.

    There's a brood of birds knitting
    A seamless pattern in the air,
    All their tiny heads
    Turned toward the sky,
    Aiming to reach Icarus's sun.

    Yet not reaching.
    Never reaching.

    The warmth of the summer sun seeps in
    Through the shadows of my room
    And I'm now sitting with the drapes closed in.

    ©Krishanu

  • godofsmallmusings 197w

    01:15
    20/04

    MAJOR POST

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    Like a River


    You, there.

    You have a very, very misguided image
    Of me in that silly head of yours.

    I am not what you think.
    And when I think about it,
    I am not even what I think I am.

    I have this habit of gripping a handful of sand
    From the Shore of Aspirations and then jumping
    From the Cliff-Of-No-Return
    Into the Sea of Setbacks;
    All the while thinking that I'd rule the world
    But still unwary and unaware
    That the winds will blow away
    The dust pillars of the castles I keep building in the air.

    So don't turn to me asking why. I wouldn't know.
    My thoughts--
    They triangulate around honeybees.
    My dreams--
    They are like the twisted mesh of earphones
    You don't even care to untangle anymore.

    I get overwhelmed whenever
    The rosy fingers of the morning sun caresses my face.
    Maybe I am a visionary.
    Maybe I am grandiose.
    Maybe I am nobody.
    But I still look for my habits in everybody.

    Perhaps I am optimistically unhappy--
    Since I showcase normalcy but strive for eccentricity.
    I guess I am lost.
    I guess I have always been.
    Or maybe I have been lost ever since
    I heard the word "liberation".

    Maybe it's just my mind.
    Perhaps I am constantly being shaken
    In my own multidimensional delirium.
    Perhaps my subconscious
    Doesn't trust me anymore.
    I don't trust my subconscious either anyway,
    But its correctness is, well,
    Independent of my trust.

    I'll never know if my subconscious is right.
    All I know is that it is my own unique subconscious.
    We may not be unique.
    We may be the echos of each other,
    But the subconscious works uniquely for everyone.

    But this time it's someone else--
    It's not me.
    It's an echo what my subconscious wants to be.

    I have created a shell out of my life,
    Out of which I refuse to get out.
    Loneliness is one of my closest relatives.
    I have a tendency to act alone.
    I am the hologram of individualism.

    Whenever I am alone, I feel captivated.
    It's the only thing that fills me, and I feel motivated.

    I take pride in my ways.
    I take pride in my obsession.
    If I ever walk the wrong path,
    At least there will be virtue in my destruction.

    I am like a river--
    I am my own guide.
    I flow majestically,
    And to hell with my image,
    I do it in my own right.

    ©Krishanu

  • godofsmallmusings 197w

    01:00
    19/04

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    The things I never said crawl under my skin
    And in the cracks of my soul--
    Walking steadily
    Stamping steadfast,
    Leaving trails of misery
    Like the one
    Left behind by the unforgiving night,
    For me to follow
    On the namesake layer of integrity
    Beneath.

    Yet caged,
    they have to stay--
    For they live in my mind,
    Intertwined like the earphones
    With my thoughts
    Ever so infinitely jumbled themselves.

    ©Krishanu

  • godofsmallmusings 197w

    21:45
    15/04

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    In A Jar Far, Far Away

    °

    Kept inside a jar far far away, mine beats.

    The ground below me is all brown, today.
    The trees are green and it's all beautiful around, today.
    The air smells of rain,
    And my parrot flaps its wings around in joy.
    The sky above, though, sends not a single gust of wind
    That would caress my face the same way
    Or incite the same shuddering pleasure
    I had felt just about yesterday.

    But no matter how hard I try,
    It slowly yet surely fades itself to a blur.
    Sometimes I think it's the tears that have clouded my vision.
    Yet I know it's my mind's concussion.

    I wake up at dawn to see whether at least the vermillion
    up-across can move me.
    But even the rosy fingers of the morn sun fail to cast on me their spell.
    It riddles me though, when those fingers run across my body and I see that the gaping hollow on my chest hasn't healed yet.

    But I thought about it today.
    And I thought of the impossibility too.

    And whether impossible or not,
    I did think that I can come across
    And beat the odds too.
    Yet I have accepted the reality,
    Well, whatever is real for me.

    But tell me, is your heart kept inside some jar far, far off too?
    Tell me, does it still beat? And if yes, for who?

    ©Krishanu

  • godofsmallmusings 198w

    17:05
    14/04

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    Things Of The Past (2)

    °

    Today I woke up disoriented, and with blues.
    To set things right,
    I decided to take on a venture.
    I made up my mind to wipe out my past--
    To burn it up,
    And to dump it down.

    I dug for our photos and set 'em on fire.

    Took out my diary
    And set the pages in shreds and flying.

    Threw away those candles,
    Tore up those curtains;

    Half-broke the photo frame,
    And bled out a tattoo etched with your name.

    That shirt with your lipstick stain?
    Hah!
    Run down by the scissors with disdain.

    Emptied up the cigarette pack,
    It looked like the house of a maniac.

    That bedsheet that reeked of your wild cologne?
    Charred black in the fire until it was gone!

    Then I went about to paint it all white
    But after only a few strokes,
    Felt nauseated for the first time.

    I let the brush stroke every corner of my wall
    And let it shine so vibrant
    That it made me feel small.

    For every colour on the wall
    Was surely erased.

    But the past wouldn't have it
    Scratched out.

    ©Krishanu

  • godofsmallmusings 198w

    20:56
    12/04

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    Sarah

    °

    There.

    I can never get over you, Sarah.
    No, you don't cross my mind that often anymore.
    I go months without giving you a single thought.

    It hurts less now, you see?
    I am living and I am breathing.

    I am living?

    Then suddenly someday I see you, only that it's not you. Maybe it's a silhouette of a similar physique that caught my attention from the corner of my eye. Or maybe I heard that same throaty chuckle or maybe it was a song this time.
    And then it all comes crashing down.
    Did I smile?
    Or did I just stifle a cry?

    Sarah, I hope you know that by fate I am perpetually thrown back in your direction. Delusional moments when I clown myself into believing that I have escaped your gravity, forevermore taper down to your re-emergence.

    Without warning, you reappear before me, but like I said, it's not you. Then before all the stars and the suns, you beckon me towards yourself with nothing more than a mere gaze.
    And I, powerlessly, am drawn towards your blackness.

    The universe surfeits with black holes, Sarah. And you are mine.

    ©Krishanu

  • godofsmallmusings 198w

    00:12
    12/04

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    The beginning is almost always perfect--
    You have those 2 am conversations,
    Those bear-hugs,
    And that unwillingness to say goodbye.

    The next thing you know--
    You're already a long way through.

    You've already given away your precious years to something which makes you doubt your whole existence.

    You realize that (s)he is the whole damn tunnel and that the light is at the end of it.

    It isn't that hard to say goodbye anymore.

    The next thing you know, the weight of the shells of regrets you've been collecting in your metaphorical backpack all those years-- it won't let you take another step forward.

    YOU CAN'T MOVE ON.

    You realize that the love you experienced was effing immaculate. It wreak a havoc in that barren head of yours and you, my dear, have been rendered insane.

    But it was beautiful, wasn't it?

    Tell me, won't you give anything up to get caught in that storm again?

    ©Krishanu

  • godofsmallmusings 198w

    15:15
    10/04

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    A Second Chance

    °

    I'm giving you another chance.

    Leave the place you live in
    And go somewhere you've never heard of,
    Where you learn some humility.

    Go wash your dishes with your own hands,
    And find a job at some place you hate;
    Do things you haven't thought of before--
    Go learn the names of constellations,
    Of fishes,
    And go help some stranger make his life easier.

    Go work hard until you bring light
    To every thing you touch.

    Go see the world.

    Find someone, and for once--
    For once kiss her without thinking of the future.
    And when you do,
    Do it with every last drop of passion
    That is left in your veins.

    Go tell her that she's like the gentle whiff
    Of freshly mown grass,
    That her every breath is a wisp of mist.

    Go tell her that she's your world and your moon,
    And that she is your everything else in between.

    Do it until it all goes black
    And you forget I was ever here.

    ©Krishanu

  • godofsmallmusings 198w

    20:48
    09/04

    //There's something I need to get out of my mind.
    //Repost

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    *starts typing*

    °

    "Listen, there's something that I need to get out of my mind.

    "Do you know that even now, whenever I find you tagged in one of our mutual friends' picture, my face breaks into a broad smile, like that of a child, and all my problems melt away into the background?

    "All this while I've been drawing lines on the sand, telling myself never to cross them. But every time these waves crash and wipe them away. Each time I make a new line, I feel that the sea itself is receding and I am inching towards you. Perhaps it will take a while to reach you, to draw a line inches away from your toes, but I have a vision that you will slowly rise, smiling with a smile like the bright sunshine on a lazy Sunday morning, let your foot drag itself across the line until there is nothing left. No line in between us.

    "Sometimes I think of writing letters to you, reminding you of the good times that we had. Sometimes I wish we meet again in a library, like the first time. Hold each other's hands, one more time, because you, my dear, are one glorious mind fuck. My life is a hollow story without a conclusion and you give volume to it. You are the love of my life. And I want you to be my 'happily ever after'."


    *deletes entire text*


    "Listen, I need you to get out of my mind."


    ©Krishanu