THE JOKER

In a pack of cards,

There are aces, kings, queens and the jacks.

But then there’s one,

Who always drew his fancy,

Belongs to nobody,Master of his will,

Gaps and voids are his to fill,

The need of the game,

The smiling face,

Summoned just for a phase,

THE JOKER.

If life was a game,

Then he is certainly the joker.

Running in and out of lives,

Not by will,

Everyone writes their bit,

Then passes on this quill.

And yet he’s happy,

Being tossed around,

Just at the thought that they need him,

Foolish he is, kiddish, immature,

They just remember him,

When they are out of others,

Or when they have a plan,

And he gladly falls in their hands,

And obeys their command.

His smile never leaves his face,

Or is it his mask,

He wouldn’t let it, even if he can,

After all, you never know the plight os a laughing man.

Not that it bothers him,

He is used to be not a part,

To be kept aside,waiting to be called,

A simple gesture, a touch,

Brightens his day,

His job for the game is done.

And whatever the flaws ,the blames,

They can always say,

“joker was a waste, all lame

He never came”.

Well, he was always there,

On him your hands never laid.

Then the players leave,

Pack shuffled, new game begins,

And sumone in need calls for him,

The silly, simple, smiling, joker...

STRANGER IS THE MAN IN MIRROR...

One can never see expressions on a shadow’s face,

Or does a shadow even have a face?

But it does belong to a living soul,

The one who stares and cares,

About the one in the mirror,

Neglecting the dark one standing behind him.

Mirror shows what you wish to see,

But a shadow is where your true self flees,

The one you hide,

Your own dark side,

Your secrets, your lies,

Your confessions he does not seek,

Neither will he guide you, he’s way too weak,

When questioned on wrong or right,

Even his eyes quiver,

Stranger is the man who stands in the mirror...

IMMORAL AND FORBIDDEN DESIRES...

Desires turn to lust,

Confessions demanding some action,

This tension pulsating through the soul,

He can feel his body heat.

You said it’s all in the mind,

But body is the route mind unleashes itself.

And more than anything,

It’s yours he wishes to touch and feel.

He smells your fragrance every moment,

Can feel you around every minute.

Every part of you is mesmerizing,

Those bright red lips are seducing to death,

The man who thought had it all,

Feels poor n novice.

It drives him mad at times,

The breath, those eyes, the touch, that smell,

He loves when you push him further,

Let those forbidden desires swell.

Fight remains the same,

As a kid he fought everybody,

Now the man fights himself for a body...

I AM THAT ‘HE’...

They say the ocean’s deep and mysterious,

But then who holds the courage,

To dive and explore its depth?

To get wet, to take the step alone,

To face their biggest fear,

To talk when no one can hear.

Most just cry and whine,

How would you know the taste?

If you don’t touch your lips to your wine.

What is wrong, what is right?

How may they judge,

When there are no rules of life for them to write.

He walks in the rain,

So no one can see him crying,

It’s easier to find one self,

When you are alone and naked in your own eyes.

No curtains, no shame, no secrets, no lies,

Much easier once you give up trying.

He will be a king someday,

A king of hearts, for the numerous he won and lost,

Dad said-“what’s the use to be one tomorrow,

If you can’t live as one today”,

He has no destiny, no aims,

No aspirations, no expectations.

He just has a gift,

Bestowed upon by thee,

To explore and enjoy a simple human life,

Measured in tick tocks of clock, you call time.

Yes I am that ‘He’,

The man whose hands had no lines,

One who fell for long black hairs, then pretty red lips, n then for those hazel eyes,

 The man who sold his heart for a dime...

THE FINAL FALL...

He’s known you for years,

Missed you for a couple,

Still it feels so fresh,

As a young ones flesh.

There’s always something to hear,

Even when you have nothing to talk and share,

That shy smile, those pretty eyes,

Long black hair, face so very fair,

Voice so sweet, the moment it falls on my ears,

This world is what he cares the least.

He gave you what was left of his heart,

To lock it up and keep it safe.

In this flowing life,

Your thought is what stands still,

Running water appeals to all,

For the rush, the vibes, the thrill.

Deeper and darker it might seem,

But still waters always pulled him.

Amidst all the chaos in the world,

It is your touch that most appealed.

The very thought of you,

Brings upon pleasant memories,

Takes away the past,

He’s run enough like a mad,

Seeking faces and searching souls,

It is you he wishes to stop for,

To walk with, to talk with,

And complete the rest of the miles.

He’s fallen and risen numerous times,

But trust him, that rush no longer thrives,

He now wishes to fall forever,

In this and all the other lives...

MISSING NOBODY...

Push him over the edge,

He’s waited long for the fall,

Don’t take his picture,

Negative of life isn’t needed,

Paint him as you will,

And hang him on your wall.

These people, the rules, the wrongs, the rights,

Impervious to his own will,

He shall walk with you,

A little longer than until,

He cared less of the road he walked,

It was the company that mattered,

Milestones shall come and go,

He won’t count,

If only you held his hand,

He could take you places,

Make you forget the numerous faces.

Fill your voids with the pieces of his heart,

That’s his only perfected art.

He mocks the concern of this world,

That built walls for the free,

A friend of thee, he kept saying,

“ only god shall judge me”...

THE FORBIDDEN CITY OF YOUR BEAUTIFUL BODY...

Let the wind take you places,

You only imagine,

He can’t give you the sky,

But yes he could teach you to fly.

Blame the fate and him,

Not your will,

You know there’s a void,

That needs its fill.

If talks alone can create a magic,

He wonders what it would feel,

To touch the thoughts for real.

He’s roamed the world for a cause,

Yet he yearns to be lost,

In the forbidden city of your beautiful body...

RECKLESS PASSION...

For the world there’s this and that,

And something that fell between it,

They would reject such a fact.

For them it’s either right or wrong,

Hands maybe tied,

But what binds the mind?

You said passion is what makes him forget time,

When reality becomes oblivion,

Existence turns to mystery,

Future merges with history,

Then passion is what he seeks,

Reckless he shall be,

There’s nothing here for keeps.

You have the chords,

Play as you like,

This guitar’s all yours...

CONVERSATIONS, DISCUSSIONS AND DISSECTIONS...

Words don’t seem to end,

Topics are endless,

Like running in an open field,

Trying to touch every corner,

Mind’s at peace, also restless.

Little did he ask,

Much did he receive,

He was a noble man,

So no problem with thee.

He speaks what he feels,

And feels what he speaks,

Just when he’s about to say it all,

That silent fear creeps in.

This world binds you,

Chains your desires,

He can see,

He’s a patient man,

Shall wait for you to break free.

They ask him to name this game,

He can’t, u try,

There’s nothing he can win,

He has nothing to lose,

There’s certain pun to this fun,

In his mind it’s all said and done.

Discussions turn into dissections,

He’s the specimen, the murdered one,

Never short of words,

Too busy choosing the right ones...

Confessions of a vulnerable mind...

Mind is a funny thing,

Strange thoughts locked in,

Sins or virtues, it cares the least,

And the key is just a drink.

You gave him words to ponder on,

Some thoughts to sin upon.

Those small hands, that fragrance, that smile,

Brings comfort and joy,

Or is it, that mind believes what it likes!

Desires gratified or subdued,

Bring frustration alike.

Night left him vulnerable,

He spoke his heart off,

The burden is off him,

But this morning has him wondering,

How you felt, what were your words, your thoughts?

Did he dump his burden on you?

But you seem just like him,

Thrill and passion is what you longed-for.

If mind could tell,

What was right or wrong,

Wouldn’t life be just perfect,

Way too boring, way too long.

It would then be a fable,

And not a story of a mortal soul.

Night is over,

But there is a void,

Words try to fill it, memories make it bitter,

Guess your presence alone does it better.

What remains within,

Is a turmoil , a fight.

This harsh morning light,

As always too bright,

Washes away the sins of the night...

With time love does grow old

They said he came to this world,

With his story already written.

A line for luck , heart, life, even wife.

All sketched on his palms,

But he had loved and left many with no qualms.

Destiny was his new girl,

Smitten by love, he had forgotten,

She was a woman,

Like any other, he should not trust.

So when she left his hands, he smiled n said-

“ I always knew I was on my own,

With time love does grow old,

And I  mock the fate of the man ,

Whose hands you now hold”...

man of many faces...

He could make the world laugh,

And not let them know,

His heart was beating but sore.

From all the joy in the world,

He loved his sorrow more.

Heaven or hell,

Actions never mattered,

The journey he knew was endless.

A man of many faces,

His own shadow was colourless...

more than just a man growing old...

A wanderer, an artist, a lover,
who is he? He wouldn't know,
In the abyss of his mind,
his own soul is unknown.
Life is, to each his own,
he has a journey to unfold,
or his story remains untold.
The world would resent him,
for his actions were too bold,
lesser could he care,
he chose to be more than just a man growing old...

heart of gold...

They said he got a heart of gold,
would never rust , never grow old.
So he broke it into a million pieces,
and handed one to every pretty soul.
but when that angel returned to have her share,
he had nothing to offer, it was all sold...

journey of a child to a man

An angel of heaven as he was,

He sold his soul to the Devil,

Out of generosity, not peril,

When mankind was in dearth,

To live as one on this earth.

As he grew he learned the worldly ways,

To love ,lie, cheat, fight, even slay.

Forgot what it is to be humane,

He realised being good here is in vain.

They call him wiser than the wise,

But he knows his heart’s full of vice.

An angel no more,

Now he belongs to this world,

This is the journey of a child to a man,

All hazy ,all blurred...

one life , one game

“every woman in life teaches  something...

she taught me to wink, her  best friend made my first drink,

some taught  me to trust, some  lust,

one taught me to love,

to believe ,and  then quietly leave...

another said relations should be carried,

couple of years she got married,

maybe I don’t remember their name,

I know it’s a shame, and who they blame,

but I say play till you can,

after all you got one life , one game”...

oblivion has no colour,

Unsung are the chords,
he strummed long back,
he became everything ,they wished him to,
but sumwhere lost himself,
n so he drank and drank,
unaware of a simple fact,
oblivion has no colour,
not even black...