Blame it on me

i saw her fingers
move across her
face, trying
aimlessly to rescue
her hair
from their freedom.

the hair was
free, but she
blamed it
on the gravity.

so it seemed.

her face reflected
the white light
of her screen.
glowing, she was
but she blamed it
on electricity.

or so it seemed.

her glasses kept
sneaking down
an inch or so
without seeking her
it was all
beautifully framed,
but she blamed it on

or so it seemed.

and i just

she had nothing
to blame that on.

it was all
my fault.


continued from last time…

What I find amusing about Texas weather is that it changes a lot. I mean multiple times a day. I vaguely remember one day in August I checked the weather before going out, and it was a promising 85 with sun shining nice and high. An hour later I get out of this meeting, and it’s fucking pouring down. I’m damn sure they put out flash flood warning for that shit. You could have just floated in your boat and sung those rain songs on your way back home in that much water which collected there in last hour and only God knows how. That was my first encounter with this mood of nature. Everyone around me acted like it was normal.

Me? Hell no.

I just stood there with my eyes wide open staring at the huge drops of water coming down from the gray sky thinking about what in the fuck am I going to do now without an umbrella.

Truth be told, it didn’t turn out to be a good day. I’m not a big fan of multiple showers a day. I barely get on with the required one. And that gray sky, it pisses me off. You can’t go out, and that alone restricts me to do stuff. Do stuff. Something. Anything. That’s what I do. All the time. And the rain basically told me, hey you, fuck off. And I’m just sitting there sipping my coffee listening to an intelligently picked mellow music playlist specially curated for rainy days in my room running out of ideas to DO stuff. I never liked being restricted.

I like my freedom. I like my options open most of the times. And I get it that you can’t always have whatever you wish for, but most of the times, I just need the freedom to think and act on. That’s pretty much what I desire from people around me. And from life overall. But rain devoid me of that freedom. Unless you give me a soccer ball and couple of humans. Then I’m the happiest kid in the world.

But this story here is far from being a happy story. It’s not going to be pretty, or colorful, or even have a happy ending after all the bullshit. There’s no doodling with crayons. Yeah, the movies lied to you. As of now, it doesn’t even have an ending. Because shit seems to keep going on and on. Forever and ever. And for as long as the shit keeps going on, there will be a writer bored out of his fucking mind writing about it.

Because somebody gotta entertain, ain’t that true? So be it. I’ll keep writing, and you keep reading.

Height and Width

their hands move quickly.
twist, turn, bend then close the lap and
lock the flap
and it’s done.
the box is made.

weight. contents. bar-code. invoice.
the box is ready to leave the building.

so many layers
to the box and to us
and yet,
we are still free out of the box.

under this blue urban sky
between the infinite shadows and puddles
on the main street
like many years ago,
in addition to the height and the width,
we are
the shallow depth.

and we have memory of



You can’t feel the pain,

Until you see the bribers making gain,

You can’t feel the light,

Until you pull yourself out from the fight,

You won’t even remember,

What is new in this day,

‘Coz you never got time,

To climb out from your old and stupid ways,

That’s why we fight for ourselves,

For truth and not your lies,

‘Coz this is the thing,

That you can’t deny,

Just leave all those rights,

And let them find,

Their true owners,

Who just piss themselves all day and night…

You can’t even hold the hand,

Of your people stuck in sand,

Your pockets are full of dirt,

But we still don’t have a shirt,

You’ll make this world so great,

That only you’ll live in it,

But you won’t remember one thing,

That thats’s where we used to sit,

That’s why we fight for ourselves,

For truth and not your lies,

‘Coz these are the things,

That you can’t deny,

We’re the sons of war,

And we will defy,

You of every peace and freedom,

We’ll make you cry…

Fight Club

The breaths are heavy,

But mind is light,

Beats are fast,

From the fight,

Blood rushing down,

All over the face,

Cuts in pride,

With no disgrace,

Legs crying aloud,

Never been so lame,

Hands on their own,

I couldn’t even tame,

Everything settled,

But nothing is same,

Mind satisfied,

Even without any fame,

Its worth everything,

Though just a game,

Living as hard I can,

The day may never come again…

Hit in the mouth,

The sound of cheer,

Better than any stripper,

With a glass full of beer,

Nothing to lose,

And nothing to gain,

Materialistic possessions,

All in vain,

The fist in stomach,

Making me smile,

Forgot the routine,

For a while,

The punch thrown,

The crowd blew away,

This is they want,

All of them say,

Everything settles,

But nothing is same,

Mind satisfied,

Even without any fame,

Its worth everything,

Though just a game,

Living as hard I can,

The day may never come again…

“It’s only after that we have lost everything that we are free to do anything.”