Since I’ve Bean Loving You

21 10 2008

Once when the heart did flutter,
Every moment passing only to draw us closer
To glance upon you, my thoughts stuttered,
To breath you in, so refreshing, yet so dear.

As you moved through me, a warmth filled my chest
I was at your every beck and call
I swore I would withstand the test
A test of loss. I failed, and now I fall.

A craving left unsatisfied
You have moved forward, without heed to my growing addiction,
Without heed to the feelings of this body of but flesh and bone,
My sensous brown coffee bean.

Try as I might, I can’t kick the coffee habit.

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Blackout

14 07 2008

(Dedicated to Kavitha, who has kept on poking me to write a non-technical post)

Perched at queer angle upon your faithful chair.
Working away through the wee hours of the night.
Pumped by the loud stereo music, air guitaring as you see fit.
Taking the lights and sounds for granted.

Blackout.

You hear the faint pitter-patter of the rain.
The hurr of the machine world fades away.
Sounds taken for granted, the background buzz of your life.
The lonely night greets you to partake in its silence.

You can’t make a sound. You can’t strike a match.
You can’t ruin the night.

The window opens, smell the freshness of a rainy night.
That wonderful dusty odour tingles your senses.
You hear that odd dog bark.
You hear that odd truck slosh somewhere in the abyss.
Silence.

You can’t make a sound. You can’t strike a match.
You can’t ruin the night.

Thoughts flow unbidden into your head.
You can’t filter them, you can’t categorize them.
Mentally, you stand back and watch the chaos of your mind.
occupy this new found vaccum.

You can’t make a sound. You can’t strike a match.
You can’t ruin the night.

The hurr begins again, the lights flash back on.
You are blinded by the light.
The sounds hit you from every side, obtrusive and repulsive.
The night is dead. Long live the night.





Passion Flame: A Rant

8 03 2008

I’m posting a poem I wrote last summer (before I had come to IIT). To set the story, I was majaarly pissed off by the coaching centre mentality. I had been madly in love with physics (though we’ve broken up, we still remain friends), and a year and a half later, my passion was just sapped away. With the exam over, I decided to generally start writing again, so I started with this. As you will soon see, I have abused the language in nearly every way possible, just to play with it. Most poems I have written till date have been of a melancholy tone. I wanted to try something new and that’s the explanation for the sudden shift in tone in the last few stanzas. It is pretty long, and I hope I don’t bore you with it.

Preview:

Noooo! I scream inside,
This is who I am
A thousand pieces, together a puzzle,
Each bit part of a grander scheme,
The relation only obvious in afterthought
To do this is to me as to the dog a muzzle,
The bird a cage, the boat an anchor
If it be that I am the jack of all trades,
So be it, for that is who I am,
The jack of all trades,
But king of none.

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