Night Love

It was the kind of love 

that thrived beneath moon shadows, 

underneath the cover of impenetrable darkness, 

we merged our unyielding breaths, 

It was good, 

It was good while it was a secret, 

Perhaps, in the light of those dark nights, 

secrecy was the glue, 

And like most things built in darkness, 

They outgrow nights, 

demand lights, 

Soon we were walking hand in hand 

in broad daylight, 

I must admit it didn't feel as good as nights, 

Now I search for love that don't demand light 

So What

What if nothing matters anymore

How long are going to stare at that door?

How long are you going to flog a dead horse?

For you to fold and close 

Here's To Us

 here's to us, 

who no longer carry on, 

as though we are special, 

because we know we aren't. 

here's to us, 

who find failure and loss

invigorating, 

but still carry on, 

as if we carry a thousand 

medals. 

here's to us, 

who have embraced

the notion of just being 

just being alive 

in a dreamless stance 

Of Death and Oblivion

 I am writing this by the cowshed, 

watching them nibble hay with relish, 

I do not wonder how it tastes - the hay, 

Of what use is to wonder how dry grass tastes? 

Instead, I am thinking about a grander theme 

-mortality 

Not only is life too short but it's 

like a candle in a whirlwind 

We don't think about our end often enough,

instead we live oblivious of that random 

day when someone of our vital organs 

Shall refuse to function, 

some of them will grind to a halt abruptly, 

some will make us endure pain, 

long-drawn visits to the infirmary, 

drain finances only to give up in the end, 

It will be painless for the departed, 

only the living will count the blessings, 

which might just that you are gone, and not them

Less and less to say

it bogs my head, somehow, 

and although I know it shouldn't, 

I am worried that 

each passing day, 

I have less and less words to say, 

and mostly to you, 

as such, our conversations are 

limited to how-are-yous - nothing more 

even then I don't anticipate your replies 

like i used to 

What's there to look forward to 

when silence is better? 

It no longer bogs me, too, 

to imagine you with someone else.

In fact, I'd encourage you to 

as though a burden will be lifted 

off my shoulders one last time 

for you won't look for me, 

for in doing so, you'll breach a wall of

silence, 

a wall I have hanged pictures of

perfect solitude 

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