Old times

 It feels like old times, 

but they all long gone, 

all gone with what we had 

back then, 

do I hate you?

no. Not when

there was something that 

kept me going 

Bird Songs

I dread mornings the 

way a jobless man does - 

without hope. 

Daylight comes with demands, 

with orders,

To partake in thinking about problems,

the very problems birds do not have,

Except, for birds, music is free, 

and, perhaps, intelligible 

ordained by nature, 

And whatever nature ordains, 

is by virtue pure 

A Decade Just Went By

A decade just went by, 

As if by the blink of an eye 

We are here, without much,

Except a sigh, 

Not of relief 

But a grim reminder 

Of something impending, 

Something huge 

which we dare not name, 

A decade just went by, 

and we haven't much to show, 

just gazing up the blue dome, 

sometimes seeing stars, 

but mostly dark clouds

We are alive, we whisper 

we hope in dire silence, 

that we have it in our bones 

to push further, 

Just a little further, 

Hoping we won't sigh again 

when a decade leaves us behind, again.

The Past Is A Jilted Ex

The past haunts in strange, sinister way, 

like a jilted ex, always lurking by the corner, 

As you stroll, trying to be oblivious to it's existence,

It springs from the bushes, startling 

And makes it clear it's not a prank, 

Heart thumping, dazed 

You are lost for words 

to explain or extricate oneself, 

or explain that she has no use anymore 

But she throws that devilish grin

as if to say 'you and me are bound by the hip, Forever '

Dire Mornings

 Some mornings, 

the alarm rattles you, 

launching into the abyss of the wakeful, 

dire mornings,

they force you to acknowledge that you aren't 

loved enough, 

that you must earn it to live amongst them,

by them, and for them,

dire mornings, 

force you to accept that your life doesn't truly belong to you, 

and so you crawl out of your bed, 

put on mask that's your smile 

And face the day like warriors of the yore, 

And you assure yourself that you will not dire 

in battle of life, 

that you won't live for mornings

that show up without meaning 

Alibis of Existence

 We need distractions aplenty, 

we need them not as a cure for

our chronic unhappiness, 

but to distract us from our own 

impending deaths 

The clock ticks ever so imperceptibly 

Towards unwelcome death 

We need alibis aplenty 

Some take to drugs to hurry the date 

with the grim reaper, 

some take to women, a few whom they

ever learn to love, 

And some live without the will to kill themselves, 

And, like pendulums, swing back and forth 

between drugs 

and loose women, 

seeking love from hopeless places 

You Have Not Met Them

 You have not met them yet, 

No, you haven't,

You haven't met that person 

who'll make you lose faith in humanity, 

Who will question your existence 

You have not met them 

In the meantime, enjoy