Skimmed Sunshine.

Why is there Pain,
When there is Love?

Why is there Tragedy,
When there is a God?

Why is there Loss,
When there is Hope?

Now,replace the last word in the second line each couple of sentences with the last word in the first sentence.(interchange them.)
 Make sense now?

End-of-the week Euphoria.

Count my veins running all over my arms,painted like inky blue vines on Chinaware-white ceramic base.
Because you can't count these thoughts,dense as Madhubani trees,swimming ahead at the velocity of this ope sunlight we're standing in.
Classrooms begin to murmur and stir,feet begin to shift rather silently,it's a movement,a revolution no one has hear of yet.
It's the end of the week euphoria overpowering every other feeling-the ultimate wait  fulfilled.
And we sit here,blotch-free sheets of  blank paper now,for  our work is our prayer,these words our only Prophet.

Misty Grace Of Kyra.

We have always had dogs at home,
Sometimes one too many,
And I've always wondered,and wondered why this way it would be-
Maybe we looked with fondness upon the canine family,
Maybe dogs were our guardians,angels in our need,
But only lately,has the truth occurred to me.
We have dogs,because we don't have love,
Yes,we don't know how to love,and we can't afford to try,
So instead,we settle on the love money can buy.
So,all these dogs,they don't even know,
their purpose in our lives,
Poor beings,don't know they're being cheated,deprived
Used as our excuse of love in it's truest form.
But it also becomes on me to think,they're here,
Where they belong,where they fill in love.
It's a simple equation-they love and we love back,
our arrangement for our unusual pack,
Because when you can't love each other,
These creatures conceal the lack.

Finer tunings.

A wise person once told me,"There is music inside your soul,an inner tuning that can only be heard on paying close attention.On attaining an equilibrium,striking that balance,finding that inner peace."
At the point I tried and tired,to meditate,to silence my thoughts,to tune out the abstract voices that dwelt within the corners of me,but only last night as I fell asleep,did I realise that I could hear soft notes,fluent,flowing music out of nowhere.
I was in that space between sleep and wake,the warm silence,the dreamy surreality of consciousness.
And all the small acts of kindness,played inside my head like a big screen movie that made it to a film festival.
All the people in my life,the events,the good,bad and ugly fit me snug like my old favourite faded blue jeans,with the slits above the knee.The fraying slits,the thinning dubiety,I wear my scars with pride today,me on my way to self-discovery.
Psychology has a multitude of theories about perception being a transition from recognising a whole presence from a part,or seeing the whole sum right in front and then noticing the parts.I can't tell how I look at things,but  I think I have begun to see a greater sum,a good whole,and yet these fractions of feeling give me so much bliss.And calling myself a self-actualized person would be really,really stupid,but feeling whole is an undying part of me  now.

Heliophile Heaven.

Maybe some songs,some friendships aren't meant to be understood completely.Maybe all one can do is grow into them.
Burst into the full bloom  of life,sitting under a Eucalyptus tree,comfortable in deep silence,so sun kissed the few words that did tumble out,ever so naturally.
The leaves being raked ,a scattered constellation being wiped to a clean slate,like a night fading.
The petrichor smell and the cool breath of the Earth,so breezy.
Scattered and blown are white,furry seeds,like the magic of one's first snowfall.Demanding to be looked at,to be inspire awe.
And  here in this corner dwells my childhood,and there in that backyard jungle live my daydreams.
Nestled in these lanes we walk,and the flowers that bloom only at springtime,cherry-blossom like,is a story of how we grew up.and where.and how.and all a reminiscent flash of nostalgia.

All one can do,perhaps,is hold on to the undying glory of feeling,savour it till the last crumbs,like plum cake.

Mutilated sheets of silence.

Dinnertable silences have always been a threat,

Announcing impending chaos,the worst is to come,yet.

It's 11:45,and all the noises have died down quiet,

All the neighbours gone to bed,off go all the lights.

Except one,just one,our house that's filled,

with the sharp white light of argument,pristine blank noise.

A drill we've memorised a million times,

A fight we know will always run like an old Tv show.

Is it the food?Is it the expectations? Is it me?

A grunt and deep throat-clearing like a signal,

A blank stare summoning anger soon,the invite.

Eat quick,swallow,gulp,you go to run upstairs,kid

Save yourself from the noise,the hurt.

Sometimes,you will mouth a word,

but raised voices to you,never as a solution occurred.

So you just grew up in these dinnertable silences,

Letting it grow on you like a vile second skin.

You let it go,let their anger win,

Only because you know,this is only where you begin.

Scream and yell,they can,all they want-

Where you go,is only for you to decide.

 

SparkleSpinAndTwirl.

Trying to tell you why I live for my friends,

Is like trying to describe the colour of coca-cola-Now  it’s black,undertone of amber,now it’s golden,bubble and fizz,kinda caramel,back to black again.

Almost impossible,you'd have to know them,see them,all that they say and do,live these pretty moments from my eyes for that.

Because  they’re all I have,all I feel like I need or should have.

Like the warm glow of candlelight on your face from a Birthday cake,like the childish delight in stealing strands of spaghetti from the vase at Pizza Hut.

And laughter and sorrow so intertwined,that you can’t tell them apart anymore.

Like Labonel chocolate icing from cupcakes melting into happiness in your mouth,a momentary heaven.

Strings of fairy lights strewn across a classroom wall,our glory days to shine.

Like the hug so tight,bringing together,fixing all that’s broken.Holding you together.

Flowing conversation with pitcher-fulls of emotion.

Trying to tell you why I live for my friends,is like trying to tell you why I’m alive.How I taught myself to survive.