Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Better than death

First came the lies
That did not look like lies
Lies that had
The whisper of truth
Lies whispered
From ear to ear
Instilling the fear
Of the worst
So that when the blow fell
As painful as it could be ---
Everyone sighed
Relieved it was not
What they feared
What the whispers
Had hinted at --
When the blow itself
Was neither moral nor just
And later understood
After everything was lost
To be the crime it was
Though the chorus
At the time
Kept harping
It was better than death

Friday, February 6, 2015


When I woke up
Half-way through that dream
I told myself
I'd pick up from where
I left off
Next time I slept
But I've not been able
To go back to the same dream
It remains like that half-browsed book,
Whose title I can't remember,
With the father
Watching his estranged son
Boarding a train
Somewhere in the middle pages ---
Did they meet again
Salvage something from the ruins?
Dreams are meant
To be broken
Wake up the sleeper
As I catch up
On my sleep
During their night
It's often someone
At the door
Who interrupts
Wanting to sell dreams
In easy instalments
Still beyond my reach