The Puffing Woman

 She had an intimidatingly rough face 

a face that would 'rough someone up' - 

but she was cool, and humble like your grandma

when she is in a jolly mood

But she smoked cigar after cigar 

Often tilting her head at a slight angle 

as she puffed out, as though she is near 

a ground-breaking thought 

a philosophical thought that can change mankind 

like the nothingness of our existence 

But all she ever does is puff away 

staring into a blank distance 

an unreachable canvass of hers where she draws 

beautiful yet obscure dreams of our meaningless existence 

She sips her beer, too, 

in between puffs too

she is at peace with her demons 

You can tell that - everybody can tell that 

And she does not care about what you think 

she cares about her cigar, and her beer 

and the things that make her seek refuge 

in her blank, unreachable canvas of hers 

a canvas that rejects the notion of carcinogens 

she'll probably tell you that nobody knows what causes cancer 

she is at peace, 

she is peace with her cigar 

Happiness

Really,

What is happiness?

Happiness is a made up word

So that sick and deranged people

can sell drugs to others

happiness is unattainable

happiness is the biggest fallacy

happiness is gaping grave

ever ready to swallow up its next victim

happiness can happen on a whim

it can happen on a wheel

happiness is not a destination

neither is it a journey

happiness was not meant to exist

it is a made up word

so that we can keep buying things we don’t need

I Don’t Know If I Miss You

 sunsets

beaches

a thousand songs

songs that made flowers bloom on our feet

a million memories

shredded to the tiniest bits

so much that I do not know

if I miss you

 

shadows

long walks

a thousands laughs

that made time seem to stand still

feel with a gaping hole

inside a heart that forgot how to love you

 

regrets

a bucket of chilled regrets

that calm my sick heart, sometimes

a bucket of chilled regrets

that I sometimes drink with vodka

I shall not forget

For the memory of you cannot be

drowned

for you are the storm itself

the hurricane

deserts,

and rainforests

plenty and scarcity

you were all the extremes

the extremes that I fervently loved

 

I will miss you on some days

Days I will wonder what you are up to

Some Days

 Some days drag its feet like a marauding

army of sloths

Some days the emptiness is as palpable

as voids cane feel

some days taste like a cocktail of frustration

and bad decisions

some days suck energy as though they were high

power suction machines

that drain blood out its victims – those sadistic days

 

and then those days often appear normal

the sun is as punctual as usual

even when one does not want it to rise

it has the same potential as good days

and they sneak upon you liked skilled predators

and rob of the will to live and the will to even survive

and from that point onwards,

everything is a downward spiral

until you hit rock bottom

those days

 

they say such days only exist in the head

they don’t say it exists in the calendar as well

they don’t say some days are better off inexistent

some days are better of unlived

like the day you were born

The Pounding Thoughts

I lay awake at night 

and listen to the clinging thoughts 

clang! clang! 

hammers pounding away 

same intensity as yester year 

and years before that 

and the years after 

cling! clang! 

thoughts pounding away 

chipping away nothing 

just competing with the slow clock 

tik tok!

The sickening slow ebb of time 

nauseates 

A Thousand Years

 wait, 

the last feel of your touch 

has been devoured by maggots 

it's skeletal, 

lonesome

in a grave of oblivion 

wait, 

the last words you spoke 

have frozen

sculptured into a knife 

that cuts my soul into smithereens 

I used to indulge in the pain 

It was a welcome refuge 

wait, 

what are are waiting for?

I am waiting for the sun to freeze this dawn 

once again 

and make a sculpture of all your memory 

a knife of sorts

to cut me all over again 

for I am whole 

The Uncaring Universe

who are we to the big universe?

are we tiny specks of sands

are we giants?

does the universe laugh at our 

exaggerated importance

does it get buoyed by our indifference? sometimes 

Is it patiently waiting to trample us 

into oblivion?

In the meantime, give me a beer 

it is the only way I can become one 

with the universe..