The Chosen One

What fun it would be to be a Chosen One
To hold futures in hand and to be the Maker’s wand
To disconnect from normal living
And face the consequences that it demands

The Chosen One knows not he is chosen
Until he chooses to break free unbidden
From the manacles of societal slavedom
And reach heights to those Normals forbidden

Whatever he be saying or whatever he be doing,
the Chosen One will be mistaken & misunderstood
In Normaldom where Man lives hiding his true self
The Chosen One will not be treated good

His purpose on Earth are known only to other Chosen Few
His brilliance seemingly dim and his challenges ever new
The Chosen One can plunge into darkness yet rise like a phoenix
From dust, ashes and sorrow to render justice.

He maybe the Protector or the Destructor
He maybe the Healer or the Channeliser
He may be a SHE or she may be a HE
But The Chosen Ones – they are BORN FREE

The Mind –Its Manouverable

The Mind –Its Manouverable..between Basement, Ground and Mezzanine..
These floors are yours to rock and roll ..and the spaces yours to fill and define..
LIVE on one ..and maybe THINK on another..FEEL on one and maybe SLEEP on another..?
The floors are known only to you so what does it really matter? And that if no ones any the wiser?

Why the need to maneuver at all..
Cant one roll up the floors et al?
Possible , when you are able to come out of hiding ..
And drop your mind and begin feeling..

Not just feeling but possibly acknowledging..that these feelings are yours and yours alone.
Can happen when your body and mind all sync into one .and your actions no longer impact any one..
You are now ready to roll up the floors and float with utter freedom
In a union of mind , feeling ,thinking and action…

Finding Myself

Each time I let myself go
I know I will end up knowing more
More about life,
more about Why?
But most of all it will BE
A lot More about ME.

When I share my love of WORDS
I end up feeling very very close
Powerless to withdraw from such a caring role
I give of myself from the depths of my core

Then along comes the music that touches my soul
And its symphony time once more..
There is yet another bonding happng..
And I see a little more of myself unfolding..

Time and again I wonder at myself..
Whether in love, I love to find myself
Be it man or woman .. physical or spiritual
Be it simple or complex…or endearingly natural

Everytime I bond together
There is a change in my mind and matter
Everytime I rise up to give and receive
I see a newer dimension gently weave..

There is a little bit of me that gets refined
There is a little bit of me that gets left behind
There is a little bit of me that remains charmed.
There is a little bit of me that grows undefined

Mommy wherr arr yu…?

When I hurt myself and cried ..I saw something glisten..
I thought they were your teardrops..but no ,they were actually claws..
Of your manicured, painted, pointed finger nails…

When you unknowingly stamped my little finger
With sharp shoe soles that went clackety clack…
I cried out in pain and hurt..expecting to see you appear any moment..
You came back..but only because u had left your purse behind..

Mooommy dear..why do you pin me day after day with the stiff , unforgivable diaper ?Are you scared I will pee on one of your new dresses ?Do you know that my skin cries out each time I try to move my leg ? I feel hot…hot inside…

When I want to feel you hands around me..I feel several new pairs..,some rough, some hard, some uncaring..and some clinical.. passing me …feeding me …and passing me once again…where have you hidden yours mummy dear ?
Are your nimble , warm fingers…to be used more for mouse operations, car driving, and applying make up?


What are they feeding me…mommy dear ? Why are they poking cold ,plastic into my tender mouth ? isn’t the gush of mummy milk no longer for me…???

When I gurgle with laughter at some some beautiful vision, I see a cold face staring unseeingly at me..there is detachment , there is boredom, there is just no love, no warmth..

I smell no mommy smell,,,I hear no mommy words..i feel no mommy touch…so where are you mommy dear ? I am hugged by warm clothes, extra woollies, tight diapers, thick booties and warm caps..but not by you mommy..not by you…

On the dawn of a morn when I did my first crawl..I screeched with glee..but you seemed not to see….
when I took my first steps. I wanted to show you as a treat... but it was the time when you had stepped out for a meet..

She is pinching me mommy..do u know that ?
She is …..booo hoooo…L

Impressions

Her pearly teeth –they twinkled and shone
Of this deliciously sweet and simple mom
Her dimples..they shyly peeped to adorn
With wind tossed hair carelessly worn

Oh she’s definitely a lively intellectual ..
Yet before me I saw the careworn individual
A mom who loves her home and hearth
Yet constantly seeks the reason for her birth

An inner turbulence was all too apparent
In a nature so frank and transparent..
Will my dreamz be fulfilled ?her look seemed to ask
It will my dear..coz you’re such a charming lass..

Cool and confused..she presents a delightful contra
A modern woman ..yet loves the “mantra”
Her music-its soulful and stirring..
But wow!! they are also sizzling..

Why the eye shadows I dared to ask
Is it a T”veli trait - I tried another tack!
Do they hide some inner pain I wonder??
A sorrow so deep that its constantly pushed under?

Her quest ..it definitely will make her achieve
Those little little dreams that stick to your life’s sieve
It matters not when you get to The Point
So long as..when you get there you don’t play truant..

I felt the pull of friendship deep within me
“Don’t leave her behind”.. a little voice admonished me
But I think I am with you in spirit and say..
So long as you don’t throw me into the Bay..

Tee hee..

The Den

The den it was when I went
With things in it that had once meant
Joy and interest to my friend..
Yet now not apparent.?

With music sleekly lined ..seen but not heard
Books in geometric array ..yet not frayed…
Lovingly displayed..and perfectly classified..
Do they fulfill all that you need my friend?
Two china walls stare up at you as you enter..
Are they papers..it’s not clear ..
They seem more to block and to deter..
All that lovingly wants to come near

How lovely it could be if the den be redone
With a bean bag for him that would be such fun..
A rocking chair or a swing whence books could be read
Neat transparent boxes to throw in the music no longer dead
A personal stereo to rock and roll when the day has taken its toll
Pictures in frames and a divan in cane..
Cushions for comfy and potted plants aplenty..

A keyboard in sight and a guitar to play all night
Posters of Formula 1 to take delight in might
Why not dear love be playful and naughty
It’s time dear ..be scared not you are forty..

A lament from a maniac…

Madhirakshi..
Dwells long in your heart
Long after the music has drifted afar
Each fibre of your being has been challenged
While each nerve ending gets gently balanced

When the CD comes to a rolling halt
You don’t want the music to stop
You strain to pick up the nuances
And be transported back to those penances

Carnatic ragas had never sounded so good
Swati Tirunal..perfectly understood..
Ragas rolling to its full body ..and merging effortlessly
Voice impaling you ..striking a chord immediately
The accompaniment – oh its fused so good
Made in heaven ..Madhirakshi..mood

Where the Guru ends and the Anil begins
Is a difficult matter to claim
They merge so well in spirit and sound
That their music is sure to reign

The CD rolls for a second time ..
And you hear a new theme unwind
Awestruck , amazed ..you rewind
Hear the dual energy and go wild

She Seeks

She seeks, she searches
She waits, she worries
She hopes, she grumbles,
She knows, yet trembles

Where’s her dearest?
Her heart cries out
Right here in your midst
Tells her innermost soul

Yet from the nite before
Problems of the heart spoken of..
Is my dearest heart in safekeeping
Loudly ticking and tocking?

Are the carbos in control
And the glucose gent in fore?
Is the mind in happiness?
Or has some sadness appeared like a sore?

My heart is standing still
My muscles ache from the tension
My mind is blank and clueless
As my hands mechanically thunder..

Why, oh why love,
Should I be away from you?
Why oh why love,
Should I be a grayscale in your life?

I would love to be in colour
Fully blooming and able to take care of you..
Rather than sit here in brightness
With my mind in darkness..

Two little kittens

Two little kittens went for a mission
To explore the shadow so big
They got near it and lay down to lick
Those interesting tyres of the gig
The gig - it started and carelessly shattered
The fragile bones and the little twin hearts
Two lives miffed out never to return
Two little bodies thrown into the gutter

But return does the mother mewing piteously
For amongst her kittens two she does not see
She seeks and searches and walks about listlessly
She walks all places and haunts all faces

You and I, can we answer the mother
You and I , can we answer the Father
You and I, can we do this to one another ?
For aren’t we all creatures born together ?

All in a day's work!

Some of them speak out loud
Some talk to their sounding boards
When to a woman both options be averse
The only thing left is to cry in verse


I wonder if love be jus lust after all
Which when thrusts be done is…
All in a days work

Is a soulful act of love
So routine and regular
that it does nothing but
ruin your dress after all?

Swish swish kiss kiss
And SHE knows no more
In every kiss there’s bliss
In every swish there’s HIS

And then she opens her eyes
Dreaming lightly.. feeling nice..
In surprise she sees a bare room
Left to pick up her pieces in gloom?
How funny..she notes wid pain..
There’s no one here now where he had lain..

Instead there’s a man who’s fully dressed
Staring at the watch at his impatient best
Aren’t you decent yet..his looked seemed to tell
Little indulgences expected..THE LOOK automatically quelled..

You rack your brains “Have I upset him?”
Can’t find any reason…can’t find any jusfcn....
“Its jus him…you tell yourself”
or “am I just a whim?” you ask yourself

No.. No.. how can that be..he loves you so much ..can’t you see?
I see I see ..but why the hell can’t he jus be
The sensitive lover he’s always been?
What could be more important than finishing the act
and seal the love within wonderful tact?

Dreamz

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore-- And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
By SOMEBODY
Dream deferrd…dry up,fester, stink or explode?
Hey let no such words be heard
For what are but dreams
If not to be deferred?

To give us hope…to keep us in suspense
To lend our lives animation and jubilation
To challenge and be challenged?
To fight spiritedly and rise repeatedly?


Dream deferred. dry up,fester, stink or explode?
Hey let no such words be heard
For what are but dreams
If not to be deferred?

For a dream- if it becomes reality
It no longer holds pride of place
In the land of dreamspace
But merges facelessly into mundane activity.

Dream deferred..dry up,fester, stink or explode?
Hey let no such words be heard
For what are but dreams
If not to be deferred?

Hold on to your dreams and let them take hold of you
Dreams that surprise you by going real .yeah, do give them their due!
Hey..create no vaccum in dreamspace…
Come, allow the next dream to take its rightful place..

A creative woman

A creative woman is one…..
Who achieves to nurture and nurtures to achieve..
Who accepts defeat to win and accepts mistakes to excel
Who ventures out with fear in her heart but nev'er does fall apart.
Who is prepared to bend but never to break ..

A creative woman is one..
Who is quick to love and forgets to hate..
Is willing to embrace those fallen from grace..
Is tolerant of herself and of others..
She knows no hatred …only strives for peace..

A creative woman is one..
Who finds solutions quickly and quietly...
Be it @work, home , forum or town
She pacifies bruised egos yet stands firmly on her own
And manages to dissolve tight situations lightly..

A tight rope walker who was born to balance
That’s your creative woman -a woman of substance and talents...

As i crossed the westward lane

As I crossed the westward lane
Where traffic ‘s always on the wane.
The road it seemed like an oasis
Peaceful, calm and just IS…

As I turned I saw his stare..
I am so used to it…I just don’t care..
It irked me in the first few days
But now it seems I want to see his face

I know I made his day
By passing his way everyday
He loved to stare at my face, my walk
My clothes , my hip, my eyes, my laugh

This dosa shop man..my poor little beau
Had so very little…to look forward to..
Hot and steaming he created dosas all day..
Unmoving uncaring until I made my way..

The silence …at times..stretched like a tautly drawn spring
On this road …till I left it with my hips’ final swing..
I was happy for the moment to have gladdened a heart
And knew I had given him a wonderful day’s start..


As his interest in me grew and grew..
It could not last…and this we knew..
One day his eyes met mine with adoration new
And I felt a glow at a devotion so true..

I never let down my dosa shop man
Never changed route..nor the other way ran
When things determined that I miss one day
I made it up on the next..and lingered away..

When my feelings were low and my morale down
His gaze would pep me ..like none I have known
As I felt his eyes follow me with love and desire
I felt a warmth enveloping me all through my attire

Then one day the dosa shop man ..he went away never to appear
I came , I saw , but could not see him re appear
The shop was there..the oven was there, but the dosa shop man..he was nowehere there..
Sad !..I wondered at this turn of things and hoped he had found someone to care..somewhere