Gypsy girl
I collected gifts
From a gypsy girl
She left them
Between my ears
Like her
Memories of her
Became nomads
My pen was hexed
It kept writing
Ekphrastic poems
Of an
Alternate reality
I start an obituary
But it becomes
A sanctuary
For our future children
My pen like me
Was an omnivore
Devoured paper
And people
To cure this curse
I followed
The remnants of
Dying notes of her flute
They led me to
A gyrating carnival
One side was gray
The other side was less gray
Like a friend of mine once said :
“There is no black and white
There are only 50 shades of gray”
I chose one that matched her eyes
Me pen and her hex
Became conjoined twins
I needed a surgeon
To separate siblings of solitude
She gave a talisman
The size of a pea
I tied it like a corsette
Around the waist of my pen
It immediately cleared
The weather that always
Hovered around my
Pen and my eyes
Triumphant and tired
I searched for a person
And paper
To test this tiny talisman
***
Title : – untitled
Hmm, i live through
Filters of proxy
3-4 bars of wavelengths
Determine the velocity with which
I tread through others lives
My thumbs travel more nowadays
than my feet and toes
I wore more masks in my life
Than a nurse fighting invisible foes
Wanted to clone doppelganger
According to the whims of kith and kin
Wonder if its easy to filter blemishes
if they’re underneath clear skin
I purchased brain chemicals
That strengthen handshakes
And mapped out timelines
Tagging pre-planned social quakes
So, as thespians of technology
Play russian roulette with sheep
I stroke my tired beard reading
dms from seasoned facebook creeps
Occam’s razor, Schrodinger cat, Murphys Law
All plan a coup to expose God’s flaws
Is rhyme and rhythm a prerequisite for attention
If words fall out of antique cages do we deserve.
***
Title : – Old Texts
Your old texts
Are like nicotine
The jitters made me
live a repetitive dream
I checked into
a Rehab bordered
By crumpled papers
I lived vicariously
Through expired Coupons
i bought At
our one year Anniversary,
things Tasted stale
for a lying tongue
My thumbs
Are addicted
To the braille
I discovered
In our love
There’s cataracts
In every relationship
Pot-pourri from
your Discarded clothes
Nested in my nose
Like a cuckoo’s egg
In crows lair, it fed on
New perfumes and
Left pungent odours
Of your anger
Your goodbye was
a soothing guillotine
It severed my senses
Like a trained butcher
And left me hooked
In a cold locked room
While i wait for
Time to process
My flesh and bones.
***
Title : – untitled
I tattooed Braille inside my eyelids
It scraped my dreams daily
Against living stones
Streamlined my thoughts into
An asphyxiating rap of riddles
I stirred sentient cocktails
That danced to deaf rhythms
Intoxicated anyone who inhaled
The volatile vapours of vicissitude
And they all fell into my tongue traps
I was a fraud martyr faking battles
Fired guns and faced the same bullets
I showed people my scars
But I hid smiles under those scars
I bartered my pain for pity
So, a con man, I sold facades
My tongue was my brush
Naive ears were my Monets and Gogh
I saw sheep and became a shepherd
Cackled as they followed me into wolves’ dens
But I failed at a test I forged
Because of fleeting waves of endorphins
I abandoned Mardi Gras masks and lies
But karma is a thorn riddled boomerang
It struck me in my gallivanting gonads
As I laid there icing my future children
I vowed to never abandon my craft
Because sheep love magic over logic
But karma you say , for now I’m prepared
With armour for my twin pendulums.
***
Title : – Young and bound
Young and bound by naive innocence
saw a star on wings that gloomy night
rushed outside as my eyes were entranced
unchained happiness you did ignite
Engrossed in your elegant luster
my heart unhitched of profound lament
I was in love with your shimmering smother
wanted to hold you close and ascend
I see you less nowadays
your divine lantern is losing hue
our ego and greed were ghastly plagues
you were sad, far away you flew
Where are you oh nature’s candle?
yearning for your gleam like a baby’s lullaby
I hope for a godly miracle
to dance again with you oh firefly.
***
Title : – Peanut butter and jam
My cerebral sponge soaked up moans,
Through a dragon coated dry wall,
Where my mother sold her caves,
For feeding me peanut butter and jam.
Sandwiched between hotel rooms,
That we owned for hours or minutes,
I left the crumbs mixed with memories,
On carpets that drank innocence.
Every time silver rained inside her,
She exhumed her soul to buy sourdough,
Cut the loaf with saline knives,
To fill a teenager’s hungry pouch.
“My king should always eat” she said,
As she slathereal cheap peanut butter,
Like make up on her black eyed soul,
Poured a layer of fruity hemorrhage.
Her mouth tasted like grotesque cuisines,
But she was my Michelin star,
Every time I clutched onto my womb,
She responded like Pavlous dog.
I ran away into astral planes,
Runway line with thumping groans,
When I landed back onto prickly coir,
I heard a lead concert in the other room.
There she was my favourite chef,
Covered in milk bread chiffon,
Jam oozed out to,
Envelope her face,
To tatoo that stare onto my retina.
I never touched another loaf,
Though acid at my innards,
Every time I saw a sandwich,
She smiled at me,
with bullet-hole eyes.
***
Title : – Unsealed envelope
Unsealed envelope
I receive envelopes,
From around the world,
Like things I taught,
Try to teach me,
How to teach.
Sealed by spit,
Many laden with malice,
Some with apologies,
Few with bargains,
Only one with no seal.
I opened the unsealed envelope,
Inside I see caricatures of truth,
They are walking,
Speaking,
Reminiscing,
About times when hugs were free.
Their face,
An amalgam,
Of lessons learnt,
Through my lectures,
Where victims are the ones who learn.
Their voices,
Muffled by praxis,
Their lips,
Chapped by the bitting cold from,
Loving shoulders,
They see everything,
In colours of truth and lies,
In a world devoid of dyes.
I was intrigued by their suggestions,
Sincere and passionate,
To become a microphone,
For the strangled and lost vocal folds.
So I devise a plan,
I guide lenses,
Disguised in a caring smile,
To make them see themselves.
These unsealed union of chapped lips and
Condemned crescendos finally,
Feel free under the shelter of lenses,
That show them their beauty,
Hidden under orthodox armour.
P.S : – These poems are written by my friend Dr Manoj Kumar Menda who is a junior resident at M & J institute of ophthalmology, Ahmedabad.
Due to his busy schedule I am sharing his work under his penname “Clichepenname”.
By: Dr Manoj Kumar Menda
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