Past Equinox

So, a few days ago I told myself
"No more of your lunatic poems,
You've written enough already!"
But who was I kidding?

It all started with the bunch of lightning clouds,
They were clustered on one side of the evening sky.
At first, it didn't seem much
But then there was a flash.
And more flashes followed,
I was on the road, but I was having trouble keeping track.
The lightning was so quiet and abrupt,
You had to keep looking to believe it really occurred.
As I turned right, the sky went left
And so did those brilliant looking clouds.

I got busy for a while,
I had some business to settle.
The roads were too crowded,
It felt like the capital, only it was not.

After I was done, I started for home,
The rickshaw was fast, but couldn't quite move;
There was too much traffic to over take
But the rickshaw-wala tried, I could tell.
I remembered those brilliant flashes,
And I looked up in the hope of seeing more.

There wasn't any,
Not anymore.

In fact, there were no clouds at all,
Only an endlessly black sky.
Maybe those clouds have been swept away,
Maybe they have spread all across the sky.
And suddenly something vicious caught my eye.
I had to look twice and I had to look carefully so.
The moon was in the sky,
I must get back home soon -
Or else.

The harvest moon was up in the sky
And I was strolling on the ground.
There's probably no shield that might dare protect
If the moon chose to reap my sanity.
A blazing specter in the October sky
Shone brightly against the city's own shameless lights.

Who says these man-made lights can
In someway dim the stars and the moon?
Tell that person to dare and
Look straight at tonight's moon
Tell them to look at it from the cities they live in,
And tell them to tell me if the moon seems any less.

This moon is surely late in its cycle,
But I don't really care.
The moon is here
And I am here.
The world is here as well.
But to keep my mind from going insane
I must take some recourse.

For, the human mind can only take so much.

Appetite

The moon is soon to be full,
But my heart is aching for something else.
That thing is round on the top,
And mostly flat on the bottom.
It has a brownish golden skin
But the inside is all white and soft.
It does not glow, unlike the moon,
It has a sweet, doughy taste.
It comes in many shapes -
Flattened, rounded, spiraled, braided and more.
It can be made in any shape,
And it will taste the very same.

What is it - you ask?
It's a regular bun bread.
No, not the rectangular, sliced ones,
They don't taste as good.
What's good for sandwich,
Is only good for sandwich.
What's good for a burger
Is good for everything.

I buy a dozen at the start of a week,
And keep them stored in the fridge.
They get a little hardened,
But never lose their taste.
I heat them up for a minute
Or so,
And they become warm and soft
As if freshly baked, straight out from the bakery.
I can eat them for breakfast,
And for dinner and for lunch,
Still I will eat more in between the meals,
I am just always too hungry for them.

I had been trying to make them at home,
Succeeded only once.
But it takes too much time
And physical labor,
So I still buy them from the shop,
And not make my own.

Ex Post Facto

I wish my head would stop spinning.

The world falls silent -
It happens all of a sudden
And there's little time to figure out what's actually going wrong.

When I say my head, I'm actually referring to my ears.
It is in the ears where the world spins.
It is in the ears where the ringing begins.

The legs seem to hold the weight,
But for how long? - The brain asks.
If you look in the mirror, you'll find your eyes right in their sockets,
But the eyes know the body is going out of its orbit.

Will I faint?
The brain is asking itself,
But the brain doesn't know for sure.
What should be done with the body?
- The brain asks itself again.
Stand still? Sit down? Lie?
Hold onto something?
It's a gamble.

Meanwhile the brain shuffles among choices, another thought presents itself.

If I faint,
What state will I be found in?
What if I'm naked -
I don't want to be found naked and all passed out?
What if the clothes I am wearing aren't really passing out clothes?
Do I really need to look good passed out?
How exactly do I pass out, anyway?
With my eyes rolling up?
Or simply crash on the floor?

Seriously? - The brain asks again.

But I find myself sitting.
I know I am sitting,
But I don't remember when I sat.

It's weird that I'm not actually fainting.
It feels like that my head is made of cotton
And so is my body - bones, muscles and all.
Moving any part seems to be a lot of trouble.
I can move my arms, and speak too,
But I don't know what I am saying or that if I'm speaking nonsense.
Why am I not fainting?
Is it bad?
Or is it actually good?
I'm closing my eyes, but I can still open them
And look around.
I can easily see what's happening around me.
My brain is still solving its poly-lemma.

Wow, now my stomach (or bowels? hard to say) is feeling weird.
It seems consistent,
Not growing, staying the way it is.
Seriously? - I ask my body.
Here I am trying to turn the cotton back to protein and calcium,
And my body is having urges to take a shit.
Like right now.

Body, please shut up.

Brain, how long?

Brain: Still working on it.

What can I do to get rid of all this things I am feeling?

Brain: Idk. Take a shit, maybe?

No, brain.
I like cotton candy, but I don't like to be turned into one.
I mean, me-flavored cotton candy?
Even Willy Wonka won't approve.

Brain: Stay where you are.

Yeah, as if I'm getting ready for a 400 meter Olympic marathon.

Brain: ....

I'm sweating.
Why am I sweating, brain?

Brain: .....

It feels cold.
Icy cold.
It feels as if my sweat glands have been turned into ice
And now they're having a meltdown.

Brain: Good news!
Cotton to protein, cotton to calcium transformation successful!

Yay!
I feel a bit weak.
But that's okay.

All of this suddenly feels like a dream.
Was it all real?
Or was I dreaming?
Brain, do you know anything.

Brain: Enough for today.

Cats and Digs

It was going to be a hot day,
Or so I supposed.
The weather was humid,
The sun bright,
The ceiling fan was running slow
Even though the regulator was set on its fastest.
When I went to give the crows their bread
The sky was clear around the sun,
There were clouds here and there,
But not the ones I thought would bring any rain.

And suddenly, it began to rain.

When it rains,
We always hurry to close the windows,
Especially my father
Who, otherwise lazy, would be on his heels.

I had already planned on having coffee today,
The shermaal bread was an added bonus.
I took a cup of hot water, put in a spoon of Nescafe,
And then tore open a sachet of zero cal sugar
- added it to the steaming cup.
I am not a fan of bitter coffee,
But I like my homemade coffee little less sweet.
Heated the shermaal bread in the microwave,
The heat turned it soft and fluffy.
Took the two things,
And stood aimless for a while.
Decided to watch the rain while I eat
On a day like this, breakfast had to have some aesthetic.

Before I tore the piece of sweet bread
Or sipped my coffee,
I had to take a picture.
After all, I had to share them with the world (so to speak).

The rain literally pours down on one of our window glasses,
It's as irritating as it's beautiful.
The downpour on the glasses makes it hard to see the rain outside,
It's like looking while you pour water on your head.
While steady water is clear as a raven's eye,
Running water is a bad conductor of sight.

I sat on the bed and ate my breakfast,
The slightly bitter coffee complemented well with the sweet shermaal.

It rained, almost till past afternoon,
And the rain has turned the supposed hot day cold.
Chilly, to be precise,
And I am very much sure tonight's gonna be a cold night
- but a good one, of course.