A Working List of Things I Will Never Tell You

When I said I wasn’t with another girl
the January after we fell in love for the 3rd time,
it’s because it wasn’t actual sex.

In the February that began our radio silence,
it was actual sex. I hate the tight shirts
that go below your waistline.

Not only do they make you look too young,
but then your torso is a giraffe’s neck attached to tiny legs.
I screamed at myself in the subway

for writing poems about you still.
I made a scene. I think about you almost
each morning, and roughly every five days, I still

believe you’re there.
I still masturbate to you.
When we got really bad,

I would put another coat of mop water on the floor of the bar
to make sure you were asleep when I got to my side of the bed.
You are the only person to whom I’ve lied, knowing

I was telling the truth. I miss the way your neck
wraps around my face like a cave we are both lost in.
I remember when you said being with me

is like being alone with company.
My friend Sarah wrote a poem about pink ponies.
I’m scared you’re my pink pony.

Hers is dead. It is really sad. You’re not dead.
You live in Ohio, or Washington, or Wherever.
You are a shadow my body leaves on other girls.

I have a growing queue of things I know
will make you laugh and I don’t know where to put them.
I mourn like you’re dead. If you had asked me to stay,

I would not have said no.
It would never mean yes.




- Jon Sands
http://exceptindreams.livejournal.com/176573.html

“All good things must come to an end, but all bad things can continue forever.”

About a week back, it suddenly struck me that all the poetry I write is always the grave and sad kind, like ALL of it, and the thought didn't really make me happy. I wondered if I was so sad inside that all I wrote was morose and contemplative. Then I tried to write something happy, and it was kinda positive initially, but became serious towards the end. It felt somehow that sadness is deeper than happiness; all the poems that I love are the sad kinds too. And then I was telling a friend about the theory that cold and darkness are not really entities, as they refer to conditions where their more substantial opposites are absent; heat and light respectively. [Cold is not really something that exists, it's just a name for the time when there's less heat.]

Then the idea struck me that probably sadness is the real thing and happiness is just a condition where there's less sadness. Because, sometimes on the face of it, you might be feeling happy, or feel what you think is happiness, but as soon as you go deeper, think about some stuff, think about your aging grandparents, or the rising unemployment levels, or even the poor salaries of policemen, there's only sadness. So happiness is this shallow, on-the-surface concept, which comes and goes, and when you do remove its thin layer, you'll find sadness; and it's sadness that doesn't go, it stays, always, under every feeling. Sounds about right, no?

Tera Zikr

Yeh khudai chod ke
Phir aaja tu zameen pe
Aur ja na kahi
Tu saath reh ja mere.


(Wa fa fa-wey)
To go beside you
Is where I want to be
(Wa fa fa-wey)
To laugh, to love.


Teri fikr hai,
Ya fakr hai
Jab jab karta hoon
Machalta hoon,
Uchhalta hoon
Phisalta hoon
Pagal ki tarah, mastiyon mein
Tehelta hoon, Uchhalta hun, Fisalta hoon.


Tonight with words unspoken
And you say that I'm the only one, the only one, yeah
But will my heart be broken
When the night meets the morning star?

Kitni dafe dil ne kaha, dil ki suni kitni dafe?

Have you had those times, when suddenly you feel overwhelmed by emotion, and you have to turn away, or move away, and just .. go away from that place? This emotion is of no particular nature, it could be a remembrance, the sight of someone, it's usually never words; I've noticed. It's also neither happy nor sad, it's just strong, and hence the above mentioned responses.

I had one of those in college last week, sitting outside, very randomly ... So I walked away rather suddenly.

You have no idea how healing looking at a road is. Now that the weird statement has been made, let me explain. In my previous house, my room had a balcony attached, and it overlooked a main road, NH-8, no less; so quite invariably, it was a very busy road. People used to ask me, beta, shor se disturb nahi hote? - Being in 12th the purpose of our existence seems to be to study. But I always denied it. Fact is, the constant drone of the cars was ... like music to me, it was a part of living in that room. It didn't seem noisy, disturbing, discordant; it was regular, melodic, and soft. All I had to do was raise my head from my desk, and I could see the endless rows of shiny lights, red and yellow. I'd got so used to it that those odd moments when there was no car on the road, I'd lose focus of what I was reading and wonder what was wrong. But why the magical calming effect? It's probably the fact that no matter what's happened and no matter what's happening, the road is one place that doesn't stop. And people move, quite literally, but also figuratively, brushing aside everything else. Some are born, some die, some lose, some win, but whatever the reason, people travel nonetheless. We don't stop moving just because some project didn't go right, or even if there's a bomb threat in the nearby area. The road's busy, all day and all night.

And sitting there, looking at those people driving away, some of them Punjabis, with very, very loud music playing, it was like the road is the route to escape, that they're also moving away from their problems, probably to another problem, and the drive in between the problem and the destination is the part that offers most solace.

So I went to this little hill in our college, honestly, it isn't a hill, just shaped like one; and I sat, and stared at the road. I saw cars and bikes and cycle-rickshaws, and they all looked so busy and so occupied, like work is the one thing that gives us relief from thinking, and to avoid dwelling on possibly morbid topics, that each one of us seems to have in so much abundance, they'd chosen to concentrate on driving, and on the road. And in a matter of moments, the emotion in me had subsided, and I was ready to go back up to my room and face the next thing life threw at me. 

happy happy!

Went to a friend's place today; early afternoon right until now. there is seriously nothing like spending a day alone with a close friend. i guess its your comfort level you know, you feel this ease with certain people, where you're never really censoring what you want to say; and doing what freud calls free association - talking whatever comes to mind and not blocking anything. it sometimes works as a stress buster (often, more like). remember the last time you ranted on and on about something to a friend on the phone, like for hours, and felt so amazing after that? ;)

if you do, then you know what i'm talking about.

and then we did the usual; walked in to a mall! just some window shopping, some brownie and chocolate eating, pepsi drinking, then back!

came back to what - more ipl watching. seriously now i'm fed up of it. there's so much cricket you can watch in a month right? i enjoy watching cricket, really. but too much of this is not good. for me.

now i'm planning to get back to some work, my studying for this year is so not over! starting slowly, i should be able to build a consistent pace in a week, by when it will totally be time to get headlong into this ..

cheerio!