Works of RK

  In the little lies I tell myself Lying awake late into nights Between sheets as cold As your last remembered gaze I find myself thinking about you In endless hellish loops. Wind in your hair The Sun in your eyes The gloss, the glitter And the sudden burst Of laughter... And then everything Turns bitter If only there was one Death Like the last blip  On a matrix like screen And then N.o.t.h.i.n.g...

These Tribal colors are alluring. Bright reds interlaced with dark of the greens. The beads, the shimmer of coarse native silk and the anticipation of making a sale, in Pinky Das' eyes! Madam will be very happy, she said. The stole will go well with the beads . I keep buying stuff Imagining That someday you will walk in And ask for them. I keep living Forgetting That the leather case from last year And the mustard silk batik from last month Remain cocooned in their shells Awaiting redemption From their misery Of being with me.

I looked at the rampage on the pages. Words scribbled in search of redemption And stricken off by sins of despair. Surely, this is not the promised road to Elysium. Nothing would grow Out of these half bled out pages and an ancient pen. I have to go out into the world and seek my redemption. - - - - These open windows Let streaks of sunlight drift in Reeking of her light

The earth is so withered  From its longing for you The reeds of your memories Have shriveled dry and bled Into parchments of forever tales. Now my dear, There will no longer Be any death for you

When it was time for her to go, it was also time for me to let go. Once an irritant is washed out, they say you can start seeing better immediately. All that stupid tears and all that rubbing of the soul, until your eyelids would cry out, no more, no more.  And then, just like that, one fine day, I wake up, and she was gone.   As the train chugged out The tracks cried out in senseless creaks of half despair Hear the poem here

I have looked at myself From the edges of reason And discovered That both my sanity and insanity Springs forth like seasons Out of my distances from you. Realizing thus I have allowed the outer rims Of my diffused sanity To fritter away into crumbs Of misplaced memories From my time with you. I have often found myself being unreasonable When I am away from you. And generally insane When otherwise.

When I was young, maybe 10 or so, I remember jumping from the attic box-room to the floor below. In my mind, I was a superman, and this could be achieved. The excruciating pain that followed reminded me that Superman also experienced pain when trying to achieve extraordinary feats! It was only yesterday that I lifted you off your feets and swung you around, your hair forming a circle in my little room. I love the shreik of surprise that you let out, and the tantrums you throw when I don't put you down. I would love to do this with you all my life. That hint of a sprain in my lower back tells me that the Superman is still alive in me, it's just that you, probably, you should hit the gym more often.