Monday, March 23, 2015

Know not

Do you know
where is home.
Do you know
Or do you
walk, run, amble, 
stumble drunk
to a doorway
Do you know
where is home.
At what table does
your hungry heart
find a warm meal.
And in which bed
does your mind awake
finally go to sleep. 
Where do you go
wandering. Tell me.
Tell me where is home.
Grass green sun patched
sky blue vast red.
Childhoods smashed clocks
as feet ran, knees bled.
But tickets, no roads
will now take you back.
And you'll live only in
fading memories perhaps.
Or worse still.
You'll live here.
In the moment.

Saturday, March 14, 2015


The wayward curtains dance
and give me a peek into his world.
He sits alone, not a pastime in sight.
Looking into the distance he sees
the scenes large and fantastic
shown to him by his wayward mind.

Wednesday, March 11, 2015


The journey taken
too many times,
now passes by
without making
its preference felt. 
It doesn't
bother me 
that the curves
in the road
now seem
so very straight. 
You need to
start worrying
only when
the destination
starts to simply
pass by too. 
And becomes