Tell Me No More of Enchanted Days

  Are you checking on me? Will you please check,  To see if I'm sleeping  Or awake? You, yes, you! The one with fogged glasses, On a cold, winter morning, Peaking behind the school gates, To see who's gossiping about you. Putting your ear to the door, Devouring words and secrets, Like Manchow soup, slurping  Away your impefections, Behind that robber's mask, Covered with dollar signs and gods.    Will you please pinch my arm? Shake me up with your famous  Long handed slap, pull my hair, So I jump out of my stupor. I'm 16 going on 17, So many pills my love, Even Alice would believe  A horny rabbit was real.  So why blame me? I'm here, I'm not here. I'm a shoe, I'm so cavalier. I can astral project myself  Into your dreams, but I can't  For the life of me, Learn how to stay awake. Hold my hand, and pull be back. I'm still pushing this body ahead. Keep this testosterone filled Afghani pride thing going on. Thread in a needle, I still try  I whack my

  So I finally went ahead and did what I should have done years ago. I started therapy. Unlike the misconception that it has to be associated with mental health disorders, it is rather, just associated with mental health. I have been trying for some years to deal with my past issues, my baggage, the anger, the abandonment, the anxiety, the detachment, the depression, all of the stuff simmering inside me. And I have made a fair level of progress. But it had reached a point where I needed professional help to guide me through. So after another breakdown, I decided to go ahead and reach out for that.  Special thanks to my best friend V, who is the most sane voice in my life to give me that push. Everyone else can wait. Everything else can take a backseat. You need to focus only on yourself right now, she said. Absolutely true. How can I save anything, my kids, my marriage or my life path, if I couldn't save myself first? The first session in itself, had me breaking down. My therapist

  Telling myself it's not as hard,  Hard, hard as it seems. There are no stories left  To tell any more. The horses are dead, And I could sit there and  Flag their rotting bodies, But to what avail? I go where there is movement, Life and its beads of light. Brightly coloured bubbles  Floating over gushing streams. A wift of a wind of a wet day, Let me gently blow this dark cloud away. I am free, I am free,  A creature devoid of attachment And suffering any more. To feel is to suffer, who said that? The Buddha or was it Lao Tzu? Your parting shot was a Kierkegaard quote. I have to give you an extra point  For that. Always better sounding  Than my sentimental rag tunes. So as we say in Theta, It's done. It's done. It's done. Adios Amigos. See you someday  Bro. So cool we be. The new age family. You, me and she. Discussing right wingers  Over smokes and tea. Time to move on. It's time for me to let this darkness go. Next decade, I will be  A spiritual master with my vo

A dark shroud has fallen  On your perfect face. And the dark glasses  On my once eager eyes, Hide my anticipation. Because I have waited  Long enough for the clouds  To pass and now I'm getting Tired and going to sleep. I can't play this game anymore, For what is beauty, but a glitch  In our sight? And what is fulfillment, But a sharp pain on this luminous night? In two days, you will be complete, But I won't be here to watch you. In your coming and going, I lost my youth, I reinstated  And withdrew my long time faith. So your eyes can very well shun my face,  Which will be forever masked,  Carefully unpeeled by your light, You once promised me you would, Learn to acknowledge, but once again, Failed every night to shed.

Love is not a battlefield. Your victory is not my loss, I can not win if you lose. You can not win if I'm weak. It is a silent prayer, Reverberating on a desolate peak. The closing of our eyes in Hidden devotion, hands folded, We clutch endlessly at straws Of hope, like the feathers Of the elusive firebird, Stealing golden apples From our garden; we hide In corners, just to catch a glimpse Of this maginificent creature, Crimson and ochre,  Fire burning in our sky, And it escapes us each time. Leaving behind nothing but a feather, A reminder of the blazing night And scalded hands, of ashen cheeks. Yet we persuade to trap  Its intangible form. We can't. For there are no words Or promises that can describe love. No wars or casualties that declare defeat. For that flame which lives within us, Is not to be found outside. You can not demean it With talk of you and me. There is no other, no Decisions for a better future, Time does not exist, nor ego. It lives in infinity, A fluttering

Those who don't believe in magic will never find it. - Roald Dahl  It's been a magical sort of day today. Spring is in the air, and even though I hate the blazing sun and how it hurts my already troubled eyes, I couldn't help smiling at everything around me today. People sometimes look at me as if I am nuts. I am not. I just get easily overwhelmed by sights and sounds around me. And there is so much to see! The golden shower of dried leaves as they fall on your head, the green shoots coming up in the ground, the yellow buds of cassia as they get ready to bring fresh life, butterflies hovering in pairs, all set for the dance of procreation with their mates, pink flowers, purple flowers, honeybees falling flat on their faces like drunken fools, birds, thirsty cats, hyperactive jumpy dogs.  If I could only be like them, so aware, so in the moment. There are times I just sit down on the pavement and soak it all in. I could sit for hours and hours just watching life continue aro

Hard, cold,  My world inside  Your world. Fairy wings  Dance upon snow Slide one foot in, One leg out. Disco balls, Circle of silver. Protect me. I protect you. I will protect you. So far, I have. So far, I have. Don't remove me. I won't any more. Godmother in glasses. Can't promise you safety. Midnight you must come home. Come back home. Poof! Spell's over. Cinderella, My Cinderella, where are you? Are those your shoes? Nike Air? Where were you running? Don't you know you have ugly feet? I like your purple nail polish. So mysterious, my rag town whore. Did you sell your thoughts  For everyone to see? So easily? Couldn't you be like her? So wise, so calm,  So earthly. And you  With your coloured rings  And your fingers in my knee, Stop poking me with your liberty, Your forward thinking thoughts, Your sequined cloak of invisibility. Merlin, Merlin, guide me please. I can't get this sword out. Most nights I can't even sleep. Give me some bourbon, some pino