Sunday, February 27, 2011


Upon a mystic dragon i travel to an island far away,
Where you lie waiting patiently on its sandy bay.
You must wait a little longer as through the storms i must wade,
Keep strong my darling and never let your love fade.
I fight a thousand daemons to get to you on time,
But fate is being a bitch and dragging me through all the grime.
Along the mystic river i travel day and night,
I promise ill be there soon and make all things right.

A Day in the life of a Mumbaikar!

The sun shines bright and melts my skin to a deep brown,
Perspiration on full force in my own sweat i drown.
Listen to some jazz to ease my aching head,
But what i could really go for is my soft bed.
Take a deep breathe and try to gather my thoughts,
But in this heat my grey cells begin to rot.
Like tea leaves brewing in a cauldron of hot water,
My thoughts infuse with the world around as it gets hotter.
Need to escape this madness and save my fleeting mind, 
Have to hurry before traces of it become hard to find.  

Escape your Mind

Close your eyes tight even if only for a while,
Imagine yourself on a peaceful boat ride on the Nile.
The cool breeze gently blows through your hair,
And in your ears sweet melodies they share.
The moon shines down and your skin begins to glow,
And the warm water kisses your feet real slow.
Take a deep breath and inhale the native smells,
I promise with a sense of peace your heart will swell.
Under the start filled sky we cruise,
Prepped and ready to go anywhere you choose.

Monday, February 14, 2011

No Light in sight...

We travel the universe in search for the light,
Even though such information is our birth right.
Of its mystical glow we only see flashes,
Right through our grey cells like a blade it slashes.
Trapped in the never ending search for the truth,
So in over our heads we forgot our youth.
It all began when we are a few inches tall,
Fresh out of our mother womb we begin to crawl.
Ever since we utter our first words,
Our vision of the world gets blurred.
Reality and rationality are not quite what they seem, 
Just a collection of stories from someone else's dreams.  
Being unique is just a well planted hoax,
Like a propaganda at the corner of the mind it pokes.
This quest for the truth is like a circle,
round and round you go as slow as a turtle.
But like bugs to an incandescent bulb we are attracted,
A single minded proposition from which we cannot be distracted. 

Good night and sweet dreams!

To your dreams I pay tribute,
Of better times and mystical flutes.
Of little fairies scurrying about,
And golden winged angels fishing for trout.
Of multi colored rainbow bridges, 
Over deep cushion bottomed ridges.
Of candy trees and flavored grass,
And smooth flowing rivers as clear as glass.
But if the dream does go sour, 
I hope you escape without a scar.
I pray your dream has a happy ending,
So you dont wake up with wounds that need mending.