Last published
is not necessarily last met.
I could meet people over pages,
and files, and messages.
Over virtual coffee and biscuits.
Over a pizza and brunch.
Over politics and then lunch.
I could meet people
over all the food and drink.
I could see them
within every blink.
I could make friends in two's
over texts and our blues.
We talk about all that is gone
Happening now and now torn.
We crib, direct and maim,
We talk of all the pain.
Much has come and gone,
we are still singing our song.

If everything could tremble
we could have done it.
If there was a rumble,
we would have done it.
If we were born in a jungle,
we should have done it.

Last met
is not necessarily last seen.
I could see you in pictures.
On turfs unsold and plains.
On beautiful canoes and trains.
In parties and in games.
Through soil and refrain.
I could see you in pain.
In sharing and in gain.
We met through a window,
we met in self contain.
Much has wilted and waned,
we are still not to blame.

If a fist could crush concrete,
we are the saint.
If they fell with a tumble,
we left out the paint.
If a dream capsized,
we didn't dream to dream again.

Last seen,
is not for sure the last has-been.

The Mask

The rebuttal,
the return
Bringing the colours
of the old and new.
Decision among fruits.

Inhale!
Being still.
a thought
a rebuke,
Exhale!

Language,
a trick in words,
a meaning behind the turf.
The layer removed,
unearthed,
reworked.
A peel
ripped,
gathered,
shed.

Inhale!
go back to
Being still.
a thought
another rebuke.
Exhale!

If love was but a parady,
Of a life lived and stolen.
Of moments uneven and gallant.
Of kisses bought and sold,
Of metres ran untold.
Of eggs broken and rigged.
Of hearths fired and lit.
Of homes built on quicksand.
Of walls built in glass stands.
Of a face admonished in brass.
Of people walking on grass
and of kindness but a task.
What if love was that tragedy
Of those stories untold,
and the many books yet unsold.
Of pieces of paper ridged underneath
That heavy squalor and burnt sheets.
What if, like from those years ago
Love was still that haze in blue.
The squints from eyes two.
As blue as the far off mountains
As blue as the everyday rain.
As blue as the unvisited ocean
and yet as blue as all that pain.
As blue as the bird in flight,
and bluer still after a fight.
For blue is as warm as can be
As true as the unheard melody.
As tall as the heights unscaled.
As wide as the girth of ancient trees.
For blue is as strong as can be,
To digest this reverence in parody.

An Eon after a Series of Flights

I left

He left

So did she.

I reached,

Neither did he nor she.

It's a beautiful day
There is so much noise around me
It's almost impossible to draw or write.
I seem to have forgotten noise.
I have tried to live in a couple of noisier cities than here, but it was never so noisy.
I always have found that corner, that spot,  that thought.
But now, here, every horn feels louder, ever vehicle without a silencer. Every bump in the road, ah well. I think I overrated moving here. Home is where the hearth is. But my hearth is amiss at the moment. 
I travel by buses to curb the feeling. I try to hide behind a book, as I always have. I work late into the night. I hide behind the bathroom door or the headphone set, as I always have. As I always have, was years ago. Can it still be the same. Sleep is a reprieve. Is it my book or my mind.
My dreams wake me. Sometimes they take me.

Of the Wall

The brick
The concrete
The plaster
and the paint.

The flaking paint.

I see the green beneath
the once beautiful blue.
And some of the white
beneath all that was new.

The white which gets on my shirt
and my pants
and my skin.
The white-wash refuses to leave.
Blemishing the brown beneath.

I scraped some blue off
to make some jello cream.
I looked it up fair
but wasn't sure which
flavors to pair.

How to make jello:
1 and 1/2 cup "chosen" juice
1/4 cup cool water
1/4 cup almost boiling water
1 tbsp gelatin powder
1-2 cups of "chosen" fruit.

Mix gelatin in cool water.
Stir briskly.
Add really hot water. 
Stir briskly.
Combine with "chosen" juice.
Stir briskly.
Add "chosen" fruit.
Stir lightly.
Pour in a setting dish.
Refrigerate for good.

I decided against the blue.
I added a grape fruit
as my "chosen" juice.
I now had a beautiful green.
I decided against any cream.
For the fruit I "chose" aubergine.
The flesh appealed to me.

And I looked for the perfect tray
in which to slowly slide
to take that ominous shape
to beautifully support and hide.

I chose against a dish,
instead I poured my wish.
I filled some old eggshells
with the now jello dream.

Knowing, the next morning,
I could have a certain meal.

The Sinking Ship

The ship sank.
"Why do I call it a ship?"
you ask.
Why not a boat,
               a canoe,
           or a raft?

"For a ship it surely is."
a ship with a large hold
a small stern
and the hull, the size of a whale.

Someone ran a spear
straight into the rear of the ship.
"What will a spear do to a ship?"
you ask again.

I smirk.
"A lot!"
The ship is soft and beautiful
and was afloat.

Water refuses to leave it now.
The outlet is way above,
on the deck
too proud to function
the main mast takes too much space
the sails unfurl and the rest all hides.

The mizzen is still to be found.
as tall as the main I want it to be
with interlocking shrouds.
"Such a ship could never exist."
you say finally.

This I think about
look at the sinking ship
drop an anchor far from the crowd.
Sneak into the crow's nest
afloat in my doubts.

Pile On

One brick over the next
One brick over halves of two
One brick at nighty to two
One brick over the next.
The strong base
A brick added on top of it
One brick over the next.
One brick over quarters of two
Two bricks at nighty to one
One brick overt the next.
The wall now high enough
One last brick over the last
Wait, one more brick over it.

Love is Blue

When blue is not blue anymore
When blue does not know itself
When blue dissipates into red.
When red wears the mask of blue.
When blue seems to stab
Blue knows those spots
Does the mask of blue,
keep the knowledge intact?
Does blue last?
Does red live on?
Will each survive in unison?
Will violet be my song?
Or will I be abandoned in blue?

The language of art uses blue in many forms.
When blue is a Cobalt.
Or when blue is Prussian.
Or when blue is Cerulean.
Maybe the first is easier to get into and more difficult to get out of.
If you were a Cobalt, you could still be a Prussian or a Cerulean.
But what do you do with either of those blues then?
When you are only a Cobalt
Are you 'only' a Cobalt?
When it starts raining and blue is lost.
Hiding under the bed, scared of lightning.
Will blue ever be found?
Can it be found?
Is it alive in the greys and the browns and the yellows?
Does it have to be found?

The boat wabbled on

The boat wabbled on
The oar double drawn.
The boat wabbled on.

The water just at the brim
Full of men and women.
The boat wabbled on.

He sneezed, she budged
There was a mighty rock.
The boat wabbled on.

The boatman looked ahead
Paying passengers no stead.
The boat wabbled on.

She threw out a hand
Dipped feet in water sand.
The boat wabbled on.

The shore was near
We saw the crowd in fear.
The boat wabbled on.

The was no more room
For even the lady's broom.
The boat wabbled on.

Anxious to get home
You tried to board, but
the boat wabbled on.

In a fit of rage
You hurled a twig, but
the boat wabbled on.

This time around
You aimed a stone.
The boat hesitated
and it slowly drowned.

You walked away
brimming in misery, hoping
the boat had wabbled on.

The bubble walked into a cage,
the corner opened its jaw in rage.
Leaning into the crevice,
the lining felt safe.
Curled up into a ball,
shielded from the fall,
the bubble lives through.
No spike
No nail
No tooth
It floated around.
And then there was a sound!
The door clanked open,
freedom handed as a token.
Others soon congratulate,
the bubble couldn't relate.

the blue of the sky
to the rusty spike.
the red of the blossom
to the thick hard bottom.

from sorted to mangled,
from floating to entangled.

As many slowly rose,
this bubble finally chose.
It slowly moves to the ground,
did you even hear the sound?
The green of the grass,
was now a blade in glass.

Finally in peace let it settle -
The bubble is truly on it's mettle.

From and about a lifetime ago..

Nana- Nani ka ye pyaar,
Baba- Dadi ka yoon dulaar.
Ungli pakad kar chalna sikhana,
Hum jaisa ban, khelna- khilana.
Bahon mein bhar, lori sunana,
Ma date to, humko bachana.
Pyaar se yoon avaaz lagakar,
Gullak ko chupke se bharwana.

Nanima ki godi mein,
yoon sar rakh so jaana.
Baba ka haath-pakad,
subah ser par jaana.
Dadi se natkhat kanha
ki kahaniya sunna.
Nanaji se yoon
dher sari baate karna.
Baba ko bas ched,
dheere se muskana.
Nanima ke haath se
khana khana.
Dadi se roz
"jai shri ram" karna.
Nanaji ka pyar se
vo dankani bulana.

Chutpan se ab ka safar
saugaat hai jeevan hamara.
Jag darshan dene vale hi
hein sachcha jag hamara.

When at home...

Fear

Fear Jumped off the cliff
It landed in the river
Covered in all the mist
Fear tried to drown
Muscles started work
They took fear forward
Helped by all the force
The current moved onward.

Fear tried to hold a rock
The current made it go
Fear tried to swim away
Yet it went with the flow.

Fear was moving on
of being fear itself
Fear was writing songs
about all that unsaid.

Fear was popping out
of its little closet
Fear was bred at home
as away it was lead.

Fear was smothered
by the blue corset
Fear was writing home
with news of no bread.

Fear was a waking dream
or a sleep nightmare
Fear was unwritten words
and those things unsaid.

Fear was moving in
as out it slowly swept
Fear was clutching on
at the loss of its grip.

Memory faded
as life caught on.
Fear was invaded
as it finished the song.

*Conditions Apply

Love yourself
for
God Loves You*

Love your family
for
Your family Loves You**

Love your siblings
for
Your siblings Love You***

Love your neighbors
for
Your neighbors Love You****

Love your (new) family
for
Your (new) family Loves You*****

Love your companion
for
Your companion Loves You******

*condition apply
I am the Lord thy God
Thou shalt have no other gods before me
Thou shalt not lie
Thou shalt not steal
Man shalt not lie with man
Thou shalt not leave
Thou shalt not live
It is an abomination.

**conditions apply
You shall return home early
You shall not question
You shall excel at school
You shall not argue
You shall respect
You shall never disagree
You shall not tell others.
You shall make a family too.

***conditions apply
You shall not ask
You shall not move
You shall not sit
You shall not walk
You shall not talk
You shall not be
You shall not exist.

****conditions apply
You shall not play music loudly
You shall not park your car at my spot
You shall not come to me for coffee
You shall not bring home a friend
You shall not speak just nod.

*****conditions apply
You shall cook
You shall learn
You shall reproduce
You shall not argue
You shall respect
You shall never disagree
You shall not tell others.

******condition apply
You will listen and speak
You will be and let be
You will ask and tell
You will smile and cry

You will and let move.

You will agree

when I say Goodbye.

Requeis had a friend.

Only Child,
Borne only once:
bore many strengths,
mistaken for a 'dunce'.
No sibling,
foe or friend.
walking down a lane
she decided to make amend.

A friend she made
she walked around,
the woes of her heart
she spoke aloud.

She danced about,
and rode a bike.
People were happy,
to see the new sight.
She jumped and danced
round and round she ran;
Suddenly one day,
she stopped in her plan.

She curled over,
into a ball she grew.
To no one she spoke
nor any person knew.
Her friend was gone,
she was so scared.
To step out,
no one really dared.

One day slowly,
she sat up
and said,
to her imaginary friend:

"You wooed me
 You Chose me
 You closed me
 My trust was mis-spent.
 You touched me
 and used me.
 You abused me.
 My dear friend."

Auto-Choris

He gave his best
He could not see the rest.
Everything he did
He bore the highest bid.
Every tutor who walked in
Was thouroughly impressed.
Autochoris refused to partake
in the ruckus and the din.

As he sat his test:
He said all the right things
He wrote what he must
For everything he was just.
As he did all of this
Another of him watched.
As he hovered above
The playing scene glitched.

Auto went about all the chores
Choris watched from ashore.
Auto was busy with his books
Choris through the window looked.
Auto was ahead of the herd
Choris stood out like a bird.
Auto was loved and praised
Choris was refused to be raised.
Auto blossomed and grew
Choris slowly withdrew.

With Choris gone
Auto was lost.
The splendour and laughter
Was now a draught.

With Choris gone
Auto was reserved.
Still ahead of the herd
He moved undeterred.

A day came
when Auto could not go
without Choris in the tow.

Auto stopped moving on
and searched for Choris
who had long been gone.

Demi at the Ball

Relief
Acceptance
Belief and Fall.
Demi went to the ball.
They danced, they sang
Together they ran.

A glance to the side,
a shabby smile.
She ran into arms
Of a friend bygone.
Forgotten the dance
The splendour true.
For now she saw
The colour blue.

Now she heard
The lilies in bloom.
The fountain of wonder
Lifted the gloom.
She felt at home
Amidst all the noise.
She felt afloat
As she heard the voice.

There were no jitters
There were no songs.
There was a peace,
Silence from beyond.
She held onto shivers
As the wind swept.
The hair unfurled
Shadows slowly slept.

The fragrance
creeps its way in.
Solace complete
in the expansive din.

Time Warp

To
Mudita on February 26th, 2011

You were right.
You lost the key to your self regard,
you knew where to find the bend.
You knew the latitude which passes through,
but you were scared that you will not fend.
Find your way back; against the wind.

I took us there yesterday.
I know it was the bend where we dropped the key.
I am scrambling around the corners,
It keeps eluding me.

I know we were scared to be lost,
inspite of knowing the way.
Maybe we knew it a little too well.

I also know either way, I was lost;
For I was unable to anymore pretend.
I am not sulking in the corners,
I am still hard at work.
I promise to pick up and look forward,
for my trek will elude no curve.
I promise to keep looking,
I promise to find out.
Till we walk homeward
Till we wear our shroud.

I hope to find it earlier,
for we still have a long way to go.
I hope to unlock our insides;
Under the same big old oak,
Where the woodpecker's grown old.
Yet it refuses to stop pecking
and leave the tree alone.

Love
Me on March 4th, 2015

Children of Autocracy

Demi
was her name,
lesser than in full quantity.
Discussed over toast
through times in the past,
between gods and men.
Is it half full or empty?
Is it not half at all?
Is it an offspring or entity?
Born of delusions in fall.

Autochoris
be he named.
Born with a disconnect
Borne in confusion.
Disparity between self,
needs and desires;
Unknown to humanity,
affluent in charity.
A want passed as luxury.
A need masked in reality.

Requeis
The daughter of rest.
Repose was her chastity,
brought up in leisure;
A dream called destiny.
Festivities and endeavours,
Exhaustion by turmoil.
Lessons in great labour
Emotions riding high,
In the past of exile.

Identity

Free spirited.

Spirit lost in the years
When i revisited
They became so real.
The vulgarity of dressing
Putting up appearances
For I had put restrictions
Face first, falling in the den.

I don't like my exterior
As they eye my posterior
I don't know where to shift
Whether to send her the gift.

To be able to express me
The repressed me
The now depressed me.

And that is why the crisis
And the scream to be free.

Below Anxiety

3:27
Insecurity
Within my own home
Beside my own hearth,
Warmth refuses to reach
The bottom of the soul.

I keep counting my fingers
Easier than it would
To make it just go away,
Worse still when I stood.

Hidden in another world
The stories untrue
Give me reprieve
Of real life and strife.

4:20
Dependence
On an idea to walk around,
Of love and of sound.
To read and to reflect
To refuse to deflect.

Occupation of agitation
Written in words unknown.
Run by autopilot
On functions predefined.

On misspelling and struggle
To tell the difference from
Wrong to right to both,
The dignity of calculating bright.

7:35
Hunger
A grumble deep within
Ignored by the din
The thoughts and the speed
Hurtling all out of reach.

There is nowhere to be
Nowhere to be determined
Of the need and speed
The games of the mind.

The innocence of age
Wondering if it were a trick,
Of writing on the walls
And of making blue pain.

8:48
Exhaustion
Of times not revealed
Of rest disappearing
And relinquishing
In a gust of the breeze.

Of cold in the bright sunlight
Of lenses which collide.
Knowledge of the ABC,
Written within the country.

Leaving behind premise
Neatly folding things twice,
Obsessions of unknown
Leaving the most prized.

Anxiety

It creeps when not in need
It reads out many things to me.
It has been wanting to subside
Call out deeper and deeper inside.
I am not a butterfly
I am just a small tree,
Which has roots deep within
The soil I stand beneath.
I read out to me
I read out to them all.
I am scared of the rise
As I am equally of the fall.
To have written to me
To have passed through me,
My courage has taken its toll
To the destiny of me.
I beg for some comfort
I plead for vicinity
To the oasis in the jungle
To the leopard behind the tree.
They walk in hand in hand
Leave a scratch on my brand
They dig deeper within
Manage to reach below the skin.
My fear does not subside
Now it is not just inside.
I write to set it free
I wander around the tree
The tree now is outside of me
As a bird I want it free.
I sit, I peck, I pluck
I was meant to sit atop.
The tree looks up at me
I think this is its destiny.
They who had left a scratch
Had taught not to attach,
Now when it is ready
It refuses to host the birdie.
This one not willing to peck
Just build a nest for its eggs.
The tree soon violently rose
Detached its roots
So the bird could not dose
On its branches and build
A haven for her own guild.

The elephant in the room

I remember the letter he sent to me
I remember the slight knock on the door
I remember the hollow sound from before.
I remember waiting on the grounds
Sitting as a car pulled up after the next
I remember asking for him.
I remember continuously looking around.
I remember nothing was found.
Sitting next to the door
I leaned against its sturdy frame
I closed my eyes and drifted in sleep.
When came she to take me away.
Cradle me in her arms to sleep.

I slept peaceful in her bed,
But to the memories of the letter awake.
I look around and under my pillow
I run about to the swing
I look under and above.
I run to the toy train,
Did it have a paper signed "with love"?
No sign of it at all I see.
I stop looking all around
I repress memories of things found.

No more knocks and hollow sounds
The letter that never arrived
The car that stopped before my door
Taken me in and then for a ride
The driver had changed masks as before.
I remember the letter he never sent me.
I remember for she had written in too
Every letter I remember
Was addressed in the same lettering blue.

I remember the letter she sent me
I remember the slight knock on the door
I remember the paper that slipped through
I remember it said,
"I didn't know what else to do."

Mine

They were never mine.
They were barbarians
They were ancient Romans
They were fanatic fascists
They were the rulers
Where I was the men.
The women I wasn't
For it was written
In the history of counting
Not to go below 10.
I wore a craft
I had learnt it at home
I hid the number 8
I had printed within.
I was beautiful
Those were days of glory
Men ain't beautiful
I was taken to theory.
I was the written
The conquered 4
I was the zenith
Behind that closed door.
I was taken to be a slave
I was beaten even today.
I wrote this on the wall
Please let me go
All I knew was
He would have his go.
Within and without
Over and above
Between the beyond
I knew no love.
I stared in the blackness
Not of the room alone
My insides weep
Every time i close the door.
I was not hiding
I was not scared
I was just insane
For none was fare.
I left the door unlocked
That other night
And as the light put off
I leapt from sight.
I left through a route
Not known by some
I left no tracks
For there was none.

Towards the Bygone

The repressed fear of gratitude
Slowly creeps in
Accredited with solidarity
And the serenity of the kin.
The time of a century
Has moved towards
The need of the throws
Of incalculable love.
The doors to the present
Stood behind the wall
Breeding heroes
And some known trolls.
He lugged and lived
In the time of chivalry
Coy as a cat
His skin was on a tree.
Put out to dry
And hung waist down
She made it impossible
To weave the crown.
The growth around it
Was slowly fading
The green was more
Towards grey bleeding.
She used a red
Against the blue sky
And still the clouds bled,
Bled the earth dry.
The heart then opened
To the one ignored
Thoughts revolving
Around that tiny door.
To pry it open
Each needed a tool
Chosen at random
It refused to brood.
He chose to walk down
The flight of stairs;
He chose to keep
The humming bee.
She fed on the sound
She broke the water bank,
Soon the home flooded
While both sat and drank.

Basking in The Sun 2

     *the customary meaning in form

Basking in the Sun

A piece, which took its time

Elastic, I pulled the ends apart
I spread it very very thin.
It changed its form for me.
Form, I disliked it deeply
I kept pulling the ends apart,
I even pulled at the edge.
Edge, It gave way for me,
I kept pushing and pulling.
I removed bits and pieces.
Pieces, of my life sprinkled
I had to keep picking them
I had to count each one.
One, the number of days
I spend before each sound
Tweaking with a thought.
Thought, I should let it be
Not hover over it like a wasp
I should really set it free.
Free, my spirit feels true
Intact with the past, present
The future stands in fear.
Fear, of love and being loved
A chance stood again
But I still pulled at love.
Love, the elastic I had kept
With me for so very long.
Elastic, that had changed form.

Duality

"Let's get up and go
Let's do something
Put a phone to charge
Read maybe, just do."
Let's just sit around
Let's not move
Put down the pen
Look in the distance.
"Let's walk till there
One step at a time
Let's move so that
We commit no crime."
Let's just simply stare
Into the nothingness
And look within
This incredible mind.
"The mind functions
It is all about the activity
The productivity and
The building dignity."
The mind is slower
Purposefully looking
Knowing every word
And yet searching.
"I refuse to sit around
I refuse to stare
I want to be gone
And I want to care."
I won't move a limb
I won't go around
You are dependent
On my muscle ground.
"I will go,
You then sit around
In that very posture
Under the ground."
Don't threaten me so
You will stick around
You want things done
And I am your chance.
"Chance yes but
Not my source
A medium to take me;
my thoughts through."
Thoughts don't matter
Not as powerful as me
For thoughts are within
The exterior is me.
"The exterior you said;
Does it not explain
For within is the self
Which will not refrain."
I will resist
I will till the last bit
Let my energy drain
Till the edge of the cliff.
"I would not jump
In the name of activity.
Action is not cause
Neither blasphemy."

Reading a random thing never quite works
Sometimes You are given things which do.

Completely out of the context in which the text* was probably written.

After very long taking the liberty of using someone else's text to express.

Probably because I maybe can't put it this way.

Choosing to play with I, Me and Myself.

I explore what is it to be at the center and yet out of the circle.

I feel:

I am scared of the world, but try to conquer it anyway.

I am the crazy girl. Too many insecurities. Too many flaws.

I am the crazy girl because I am an expert
         on the importance of loving myself (theoretically of course).

I know:

I need help and that I am the only one who can give myself that virtue.

I am the crazy girl, but I need not a caretaker.

I am the crazy girl who will listen when thoughts drive into a mind hurricane.

I will:

learn to read emotions because I have mastered that skill on myself.

learn to let the world not fall amiss.

learn to live with and without it all.

I am:

not scared of learning.

not scared of it all leaving.

not obliged to be either.

But of all thing I simply AM

*Couldn't acknowledge source as I found the text by chance.

To "the Force"

I keep chasing you away
And yet you keep coming back to me
I have told you we are over
But you keep clinging on.
They say I am fond of you
But I am done really
Was done long ago.
I have not learnt how to ignore.
I would rather not have you around.
You pushed me off the edge yourself.
Some do so by leaving
You did so by staying too long.
Love is too strong a word,
Like still a stronger emotion.
I am not in that circle
Unfortunately observing from within.
I will be out of it too.
And then you will know.
I had let you stay too long
I had found comfort
in the little place you left me.
Now I can't keep curled up
I need to stretch and step.
I maybe need to dance,
And I need to roll.
Jump off my own cliff
Without you giving me a hand.
I will decide which parachute to take
Or if any at all.
It is my decision to make
And you can stop rolling the ball.

Mathematics 2

A 30 cm is a foot
Where I know that 2.54 is an inch.
I know I had to be reaching a full
But still a 30 inch I simply fail.
I ask my brain if a 15 is a foot
Or maybe a 30 inch is still a foot
Mind you it was a ruler I thought
A foot was definitely a 30 in cm
But how much in an inch I fail.
I thought and thought
And there it was
Surely a 15 inch would make a foot
But I have always known it hasn't
I look for the number and then more.
Some tell me its the good old 12
And I know it sure is.
Why can't I meet the 12?
When I was always so true.
Again,
Understanding this struggle
Is in the pace-
a struggle my brain seem to face.

Mathematics 1

When 20 added to 30 can't be 40,
but at the same time it can't be 60.
A 30 minute cycle after starting at 20
Takes us to which point closer to 60
It definitely takes me away from 40.
A pace which I can't seem to pace
I thought it could be a good 70.
But that is so difficult to place.
A 70 in time would be 1:10
But yet a 20 plus 30 in time isn't.
I place the 30 after the 20
And after a grand struggle
I place the 3 after the 2
That is when I get a good old 5.
And so definitely a 30 and 20
Had to make the so difficult 50.
Understanding this struggle
Is in the pace-
a struggle my brain seem to face.

Your Own Shit 2

Your Own Shit

Still Brushing my Brain

The mystery thickens.
I forgot a very common word today.
I was known for my memory when I was a child.
Does that really mean anything?
Being horrible with dates has been my thing.
I am appalling at names;
Of people, not of things.
The plot has lasted there too long.
It buries more and more underneath the rubble.
There are people who are trying to be rescued.
Trying to stay alive on mere sweat and some flesh.
They will die soon.
The rubble needs to be cleared.
It needs to be lifted off,
It needs to be organised.
In a largest to smallest order maybe?
A required to not required list?
A list by frequency of use?
Or simply left to be crushed;
Forming one dense cube.
Easily stored,
somewhere at the bottom shelf.
Soon names would revive.
People would be able to rebuild.
A new structure maybe?
Unknown materials?
Which in due course,
May or may-not fall down again.
To bury inhabitants in new rubble.
Cropped out of the old storage.
Or a pile on from days to come.
Crisis would keep them afloat.
For activity to inactivity, is a state of bliss.
And building forth, a ray of hope.