'Persuasions' Or 'The Wise Paranoid and the Foolish Braveheart'

Following the movement of clouds
And counting the stars in the sky
Letting the night breeze play with with my hair

A friendly dog on the street
A handful of melodies from simpler times
Stories woven inside my head of strangers passing by.

Maybe the search for happiness isn't all that elusive
As we would like to believe.
Tragedy is only that many unshed tears weighing us down,
And joy that many introspections away.

You bubble-wrap your heart and put it away,
Picking up the pieces later seems more tedious.
Emotionally more pragmatic, you say wisely.

I nod, and wonder what it would take to make you believe
You can't swim with the dolphins if you don't get your feet wet.
You can't fly among the eagles if you don't spread your wings.

You may break
And bruise
And tell me that you told me so.

You know they say it is better to have loved and lost,
Than never to have loved at all.
You say it's a cliche.
I say it's a classic.

The world is Schrodinger's cat.
Look up possibilities in your dictionary.
Forgive the past, and look the future in the eye.

An awkward poem to convince you
To come out of your nuclear shelter.

We can battle the modern dragons together,
And break into the corporate castles.
Defeat the plagues and the witches together.
Claim the entire world for our booty.

Maybe I can be your bubble-wrap instead.
Maybe we can walk off into the beautiful sunset together.

On Turning And Returning

Time travelling in mental highways,
He adorns his past self unselfconsciously
And not just see it through sepia-tinted glasses.


Unlearning the weary world's diktats,
He rediscovers the happiness of half a myth ago.


The grass has been losing its green over the years,
The crick in the neck thus not pure sentimentalism.
Rendered necessary by an age that he did not understand,
Or an age that did not understand the likes of him.


These journies are conducted everyday behind countless glazed eyes,
The witch Memory assists with her protean charm -
Wiping out the unnecessary and repressed,
With as much ease as putting up blow-ups of the happy and peaceful.


Unfortunately, the frequent trips -
To and fro,
Past and present,

Come and go,
Live and relive -
Spoilt the time machine...


And now he hangs in a limbo,
Trapped in his own head.