Tuesday, April 26, 2016

How are you is (not) a trick question.

P.S. Notes from my desk #18

How are you? – I’m good.

Almost like a reflex. Like we should.

Better be good. Say that - since childhood.

What is the likelihood? Of saying the truth.

I’m angry, hurt or sad. Actually broken, understood?!

How many times do you lie? Fight back your tears and deny.

Are you okay? You fake a smile.

With bloodshot eyes n trembling hands,

An aching heart n one helluva spine,

You always say - Yeah! I’m fine.

These questions we ask. Almost as a cursory task.

Do we really wanna know, what’s behind the mask?

So today, here I am.

Extending my arm – No pretense, no sham.

I’ve stopped to listen. You’re not a passing glance.

Let’s talk. Share. Make the most of this happenstance.

You tell me how you are. Unedited. Time no bar.

It’s not a trick question. No ulterior motives by far.

Just a genuine concern. Wanna know how you’re doing so far.

Come; tell me the truth, my rock star!

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

I am mental.

P.S. Notes from my desk #17

Right v/s left. This brain fest. What’s in your DNA? Let’s take a blood test.

This mind never at rest. I must confess.

Stay out. Many thoughts lie here – Naked. Undressed.

Some feelings locked in the chest – Unexpressed. Yet un-addressed.

There. That heap of insecurity. Fighting itself out.

Careful. Don’t add to it. Please; I request.

Those words you spoke. But didn’t mean. They haunt. Taunt. Continue to molest.

Stand back. Give me some space. Your expectations - Crowd my frame.

I, me or my name – It’s no conquest. My state of mind is not at your bequest.

So many questions keep screaming – Speak up. Stand out. Talk un-repressed.

My voice shaky, sometimes suppressed. After all, they say conform - not protest.

Won’t you shut up?! I want to sleep – 4 hours at best. Unstressed.

In the arms of my stillness, love and zest.

As there, under the headrest. Lie my hopes. My life vest.

It’s how I manifest. This passion. I possess.

I tick. I tock. All these boxes - in my head.

I can work this. Nonstop. That way, I’m blessed.

So when recently I agitated a friend - he saw red.

For I spoke my head, objected to something he said.

Are you mental? His return text read.

Present! - That would be me, I calmly said.

Mental - That’s correct.

This life I live - in my head.

Some live it closed. I let it out - breathe free instead.

You are you. And this is me.

Mental just happens to be - my expressed mentality.

Monday, April 18, 2016

Your gut talks.

P.S. Notes from my desk #16

When the day hits you hard. Or life catches you off guard.

When a grey overcast hovers over your bright forecast.

When you’re running too fast. Or too slow.

When you don’t know, whether to hold on - or let go.

When tossed and teased – you swim - struggling against the flow.

Confused and low. You look for support. Someone you know.

None. There’s no one. This is your show. And you’re flying solo.

Tired. You pause. Take a moment. Sit awhile, in your shadow.

You close your eyes. Many thoughts vandalize. Some real. Some lies.

You breathe. Deep. You visualize. A calm - instead of this noise.

Your mind finally surrenders. Now at peace. Your heart beats, as it centers.

A small voice then whispers. Softly it speaks. It reminds. And it remembers.

You hesitate. What was that? You contemplate.

But the voice innate. You just feel it. You relate.

Like a knowing. You connect. You trust.

Yes. Your gut talks. Listen. You must.

Friday, April 15, 2016

We need to talk.

P.S. Notes from my desk #15

We need to talk. Like really talk.

Like lovers do. Like we used to.

It’s not a warning sign. Or a deadline.

Talk to me. Just a genuine whine.

Let’s be uncontained - For the parameters.

Unfit - for a 140 characters.

Let’s not hate. Through any status update.

Let’s talk to the face. Up straight.

Let’s share. Iterate. And reiterate. Be elaborate.

Let’s not gag - our swag - in a hash tag.

Let’s undress. Be unrehearsed. Filter-less.

Drown in my soul - without finesse. Let’s be limitless.

Let’s be more than a smiley. Or a heart beating at a crescendo.

Let’s not remain incognito. Lost in virtual innuendo.

Let our voices be our echo. Let’s build our own tempo.

Let’s wind back the clock. Open the door. Knock - knock.

Here I am. Wanna take a walk?

We need to talk. Like really talk.

Like lovers do. Like we used to.

I'm (not) busy.

P.S. Notes from my desk #14

I’m busy, you say. What a day!

Can’t chat. Can I call you back?

Tied up – I’ll get back.

Surely. Before I hit the sack.

Please; not right now. Can’t promise.

But I’ll be there somehow.

Tomorrow. Anyhow.

He waits. She waits.

And love tolerates.

Moments hesitate…

As time evaporates.

A mother. A father. A lover or friend.

Little kids who believe,

Your every amend.

Over time they die. They suffocate.

Kith and kin. So squeezed in.

Trying to fit in.

Listen. Busy is an excuse. Much like treason.

You cheat yourself, thinking it’s with valid reason.

And I know. I see. This life is anything but easy.

You work hard. And you have all my empathy.

But please make time. Prioritize readily.

I’m not a reminder. Do it willingly.

And wait; Give me a sec. I’ll be gone in a jiffy.

Just need to say this, real quickly.

For believe you me - Really.

I’ve got things to do too

It’s not like I’m not busy.

Sunday, April 10, 2016

I am who I am

P.S. Notes from my desk #13

I’m black. And white.
I even have my 50 shades of grey.
I’m happy. From within.
But then yesterday was a bad day.
I’m hopeful. Totally grateful. Everyday.
I find my strength, when I pray.

I’m mushy. Need attention.
Come on bae; say something nice today.
I’m moody. Now and then.
It’s not you, just me having an off day.
Oh! N I’m senti. I cry. Sigh! So easily.
Though I try, this side of me, to underplay.

I’m caring. I show up. I’m there.
Take my hand; here - I’ll never let you go astray.
I’m sarcy. Damn icy. When mad. So bad.
You may want to run. Fast. Lest your brains be my entrée.
Yet I’m perfect! (Eyelash bat n blush) Friends say.
Nah! Don’t believe them, they just love me that way.

I'm me. So you see. In my medley.
This is my tune. My swag and my sway.
And hey, by the way, go ahead -
Come now, make my day!
Take me as I am.
Coz; No! I’m not going away.

Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Life goes on.

P.S. Notes from my desk #12

I’ve always been a bit of a planner.
Like where I’ll go and what I’ll be,
When and in what manner.
Meticulous. My lists.
Wrote them diligently.
Friends often teased, called me OCD.
But I knew better, or so I thought.
Naïve, at age 20.
But life had other plans; ironically
Too many things, I didn’t foresee
I stumbled. I fell. Restarted consistently.
Learn, unlearn, relearn became key,
So many twists and turns, seriously!
This test of my patience, grit and ability.
My plans clearly - now history,
Bring it on – reborn, by age 30
Today I know better, here’s my clarity.
Live bravely; love life - unconditionally.
For it comes with little to no guarantee.
Fight. Face a curve ball, almost willingly.
Live each moment, fearlessly
For here’s the truth, undeniably.
This too shall pass, most definitely,

Life goes on; inevitably.

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

I am a friend.

P.S. Notes from my desk #11

I am a friend. Have been, since then.
Even when… Time and again.
My question then – why am I, an only when?
A now and then. Just a quick ten. Listen – let me vent.
I need some Love n Zen.
I am friend. I prioritize. You. At odd hours n otherwise.
When you’re demoralized. With life pressurized.
Or just need some attention – full size.
Why not then; is this relationship likewise?
Your share – king-sized. Mine bite-sized.
I am a friend. True. Behind your back, you I defend.
Unheard. Here I remain. Expended; at my tail end.
Hoping, my intend you comprehend.
I’m not a loose end! You think of, at the fag-end.
I recommend. You pay heed. Let’s amend.
Treat me like a Godsend.
I am a friend.




Saturday, April 2, 2016

Love is simple like that.

P.S. Notes from my desk #10

Today I took a nap
In his lap
I looked up at him, as he smiled back.
Many unspoken words we unwrapped
As I lay in his lap.
I found peace like that. Felt safe, yet un-trapped.
Better than any place, on or off the map.
As I lay in his lap.
Love, he said, is simple like that.