It’s about the vibe.

It is no lie

There is a tie

You own your team, I’ve got my tribe.


There ain’t no science

There ain’t no logic

The energy though, it’s about the vibe.


It is no lie

May be you rely

On silence, but is that a jibe?


No battles fought

There is no fight

The energy though, it’s about the vibe.


They ask me why

Why do you try

Say something, try to describe.


Oh my, oh my!

I’d rather die

It’s not the words, it’s about the vibe.


It is a lie

Coz I ain’t shy

Tell me the truth, shame on that bribe.


And in your eye

I see it, sigh!

It’s not the words, it’s about the vibe.


And may-be one day

When I’m too high

I’ll give you more than you subscribe.


And tell you why

I refuse to buy,

Face-value, coz it’s about the vibe.


The wicked yellow ball tricked me again



It was odd, the story, you made it odder,

Treason, treachery of the highest order,

Ready with my sword and soul gift wrapped,

I stood with no armor, at the border.


The wicked yellow ball tricked me again.


I ate my map, I killed my guide,

The desert was abandoned, the oasis had dried,

He attacked me with words, some black some gold,

I looked up at the Leo, the Scorpion, and sighed.


He saw me, and then at the starry night,

He drew out his arrow, and aimed just right,

Then the one up there, pulled the bow hard,

I saw two Orions, ready to fight.


The wicked yellow ball tricked me again.

It just stood watching the game get inane,

And then it rose, and lost the pale,

It turned white, I was in pain.


The arrows met, clashed, whatever,

There was thunder, downpour, lightening, whatever,

The Orions watched, and  I wondered,

Life, death, after life, whatever.


So I died, once, and then again,

In the midst of chaos, battle, rain,

I was ready this time, I swear I was,

But the wicked yellow ball tricked me again..




















It got so wicked, my dream..

It got so wicked, my dream.

It got so wicked, my dream,
I decided to jump off the high-rise,
Sudden, rushed, I pushed myself,
A free fall, too short,
I woke up,
With a jolt,
In another dream, dreamy,
I was lost, I wandered,
Through the bushes,
Into the wild and beyond,
Saw a sparkling river with diamonds,
Stole the sparkle,
Hid it in my pocket,
Ran, and ran, and ran
Till my heels hurt,
And my breath died,
I stopped and saw a shadow,
Who was it?
A person,
Coming to a halt,
In front of me,
It was me!
Her pockets sparkled,
I looked at mine,
They did too,
She clutched hers, and ran away
I followed her, into the wild,
She looked back, and ran faster,
She was horrified,
I, just too numb
She stopped at the edge of the waterfall,
Catching her breath,
She couldn’t run any further,
She breathed hard,
And looked down at the sparkling water
And then at the sparkles in her pocket,
And then at me,
It got so wicked, her dream,
She decided to jump off the edge,
A free fall, longer this time,
Her scream,
echoing in my ears,
And with a terrifying, sudden jerk,
I woke up in my bed,
Was it her?

I’m looking for that moon.

I'm looking for that moon.

In search of the one controlling my life. Because clearly, I am not.


I’m looking for that moon,

That pale elusive ball of nonsense that is causing this rise and fall in me.

This flip in my gut, this sudden surge, this turmoil that capsizes my very being.


I’m looking for that moon,

The one with craters, that is digging out deep parts of me to make me like itself.

A puddle here, and a puddle there filled with a loss of self.


I’m looking for that moon,

The one that glows with something borrowed and something thrown back.

Illuminating me ephemerally, and then taking away my glory.


I’m looking for that moon,

The one that grows with pride one day and shrinks in distress the next.

Because it is shrinking me too, an inch, every night.


I’m looking for that moon,

The one that plays hide and seek, behind a tower, a cloud, a tree.

And when I whine it flashes a silver lining, like handing a rattle to a child.


I’m looking for that moon,

Because I am no more enjoying this game, for I’m not the sea, I get cracks.

Every time I’m lifted and plunged back in a frenzy, I get cracks.


Just something

I couldn’t really decide what to call this piece of poetry. So here’s just something.


Just something

I took a leap, fast and high
After a long, tedious crawl
Should I build my wings now?
Or gear up for a free fall
The air feels thin and cold
The light falls on my face
Its a gamble, a game of cards
And I saw you hiding my ace.
The clouds come along with a message
They crackle and drench me down
The lightening falls, its dark
They take away my only crown.
I see them fly past me
I see them high with pride
More beautiful than I am
Yet ignorant of my ride.
I see the world below me
Taking its usual course
Dreaming dreams of power
While I dream of force.
I am floating now, weightless
I hear a familiar voice
And this time I cover my ears
I realize it was always my choice.

Little shots of fantasy

Little shots of fantasy


I am a dreamy kind of person and am well aware of my dreaminess, which is bad, because it makes me analyze myself too much to be able to live peacefully.

Sometimes I envy those who live in oblivion. People who are awesome and don’t know it, people who are idiots and don’t know it, people who are dumbasses and don’t know it. At least they can be at peace with who they are.

Being dreamy is exhausting; constantly splashing yourself with ‘purported propriety’, and the so called ‘ways of the world’. You realize that your own world feels more real, and better than the one you wake up to each day.

What I thought was real

What I touched and feared

What felt part of the world

Were little shots of fantasy


Lying awake

I found a little comfort

In the warmth of these

Little shots of fantasy


Joining the stars

Chasing the cars

There was something sincere

About these shots of fantasy


Pinched my skin hard

Shook my head again

Never woke up, I needed

These shots of fantasy


I made space then

For this harmless addiction

A little intoxication

By these shots of fantasy


I was seeking reality

It never ever occurred

Reality isn’t real

Without these shots of fantasy


# I am still writing poetry. I guess I haven’t lost it completely yet. Phew.

# Life.

Pleasures of the Senses.

Pleasures of the senses

So here I break my 2 month long sabbatical from blogging. I don’t regret not updating Onomatopoeia, I don’t regret abandoning it, I know my blog won’t judge me, I know it will take me back with open arms , I know it missed me as much as I did, and all this while I also realized that sometimes you have to let go of one awesome thing to explore and experiment with other awesome stuff! —-Deep breath. Ok, done with excuses.

So, A very happy New Year to all my readers! :D

2013 for me ended with a bang! So many new things learned, so many epiphanies, so many Ooo moments! For the first time I found myself indulging in guiltless pleasure, and I might sound like a hedonist right now, but yes it is addictive.

The thing about addictions is that they stop feeling good after a while, and then you just do it because you have been doing it. After all, there’s only so much fun you can have! You can choose to live in illusions, but the need to find yourself creeps in eventually. You miss the silence, you miss the calm, you miss reading your favorite book, and sipping your favorite coffee from your favorite mug. You miss the simpler things in life.

So after all the traveling and meandering, endless music concerts, crazy parties, hanging out, sleepless nights, and endless jokes, it’s time to settle down.

Breaking through the old wall,
Leaping across the fences.
I reached a world, too blingy,
Of the Pleasures of the Senses.

It pleased my ears with harmony,
My eyes saw beyond the veil.
I breathed in a new life,
I sang like a nightingale.

I felt a touch unknown,
I danced like never before.
I watched myself sway,
Getting lost in the roar,

It feels like a dream,
But now I wish to rise.
I miss that old wall,
And what lay inside.

I miss the pleasure I knew,
Of a deeper pursuit.
Of reasons and meanings,
Of depth, of root.

I’ve now turned around,
From the pleasures of the senses,
Will I be taken back?
I’m preparing my defences.


I haven’t thought about my new year resolutions yet, but I found these two thoughts strolling across my mind.. Think it over..

* Is it wise to make mistakes on purpose just because you think you should have them to look back on and laugh? ( umm.. because I think I’m way too infallible to make them unintentionally, the idea doesn’t sound too bad.)

* In a world obsessed with tags, people don’t accept and digest grey areas too easily. If you don’t fit in black or white anymore, it’s okay to carry with you some shades of grey.

PPS: This post could not have been more random. Please bear with me and pray with me, for a better post next time! Thank you!