Monday, January 31, 2011

The Mental Circus 1

The strange moments that make my heart skip a beat
I chase them not, for I cannot look for them
It is a strange thing, to feel these things
Simultaneously desiring and escaping
I do not wish for these moments
I do not wish for the opposite either
I do seek an end that ends the need for this fever
If she said no it would blow down this home of sticks n stones
If she said yes it would mean no more than it should, though it could mean everything
It is these questions followed by moments of silence that won't stay quiet
It is these thoughts that plague my mind whenever she runs by it
Sometimes I wish I could forget the way she gets into my head
Though I would hate to never remember the way she felt when we met
Now when I put my head down to rest
I know she will put my mind to the test
Though she may be unaware until the moment that my heart is bare
For as long as she is unaware, I am not really there

© Rahul Chidambaran 2011

Go Figure

Your stars have changed they say
"So what?" I ask, if I may...
Can we really put our faith in a photograph of a million-year-old yesterday
Can it really predict what's happening this Friday
Even if it did, I would make sure that changed, so really, no way

No pain, no gain
So true when you do gain pain

Not much more to say or type
Can't force my hand to write what's not right
They say I've got to keep goin'
If I want to wake up dreamin'
It is hard though to force these thoughts
I guess this is some place I've got to start

© Rahul Chidambaran 2011

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Eyes to the Skies

It seems to me that if you are not here and you are not there,
then all you do is stare at the people that are around you like you are the animal in the zoo

Work, Home. Work, Home.
A stone drone, a lone soul in this crowded dome.

Fleeting thoughts, most forgot in the exhaled fogs.
Mind not stale while the soul flails, aspiring to spirit away on any given day.

Not producing, just reproducing, though unpleasantly.
Fingers itching, deprived from the wood and steel string, notes in a sling.

The questions pile with no answers nigh
Breaths turn into sighs and eyes turn to the skies.

© Rahul Chidambaran 2011