Meaningless Failure

i am listening to Journey

while I produce sonnets

like a damn factory

churning them out;

my life has no meaning

But I am happy for the time being;

‘don’t stop… Believing ‘…

why do they pause

before ‘believing?’

just for the rhythm

or is there some deep meaning

hidden?

my sister called and cried,

she thinks she’s a failure;

her company was downsizing

and axed her;

i am happy she’s coming back home

and I think she’ll be happier too;

she’s not a failure

but I can’t make her listen;

it is ironic that I

who have lived in near solitude

for half a decade

can’t shut my own mouth

when I’m forced to be in company,

and she

living out there

hesitates to say to a stranger

‘Hey there.’

This post needs metaphors

to turn it into a poem…

my life has done a 360

from failure to failure

a cycle of nothingness

meaningless

existence

but I am happy

while writing my series of sonnets

About the mighty Kar-Tikan

(Hope you all had a good day… It has been a quiet one for me… And I am super bored.)

Wings

I was once a mighty dragon
But my wings had not yet grown
Slain dead before I could have flown
Now I’m a little humming bird
Darting everywhere, there, here
I still dream my dragon dreams
While flitting over lakes and streams
Oh, to just be happy with my lot
And enjoy my flight with what I’ve got

Fated to Grieve

I notice

The Universe

Trying to push me

In one direction :-

Grief!

I’ve noticed

About a dozen different events

Lately

That remind me

Of my loss

What does it hope to achieve

After more than a decade

Of acceptance?

Is he up there somewhere

Reminding me

Not to forget him?

I blink back tears

Opinions

i let other people’s opinions

dictate my thoughts and actions

i need to overcome this

Trying to sense every little cue

does that person like me?

does that person hate me?

did I do something to irritate them?

thoughts ad nauseum

Circles

Circles everywhere I look
Look at the repetition of days
Days are but numbers on a calendar
Calendar art is popular in India
India is stuck in the past
Past glory is but a memory
Memory that is often distorted
Distorted values set by temporality
Temporality is an illusion
Illusion doesn’t let us spiral
Spiral outside the circle

Blast Off!

Anxiety

Is like rocket fuel

When I meditate

To each their own

Withered Interests

I was once interested

In so many things

Philosophy, physics,

Mathematics,

Linguistics,

Psychology

History

I still have mythology

music and fiction

My interests withered away

But it seems like they left seeds behind

I just need good soil and water

Letting the sun do the rest of the work

Channeling Socrates

i like breaking things down

to their first principles

Makes things easier to understand

But the journey can be a rough one

Some things stubbornly refuse

to be tiny

(I don’t know why I am bombarding you with poetry. Maybe it is just my way of coping. I did warn you about it yesterday.)

Writing Poetry

There was a time

Long ago

when I wrote poetry

just to see my grandmother smile

Miracle Cure

can’t sleep

last one

Why am I so sure?

why am I

living in the hope that

a doctor will ‘fix’ me

On Monday

and

Why am I

trying to reassure

the world?

the need to fit in once more?

the need to put people at ease?

I hate to be a worry

Even to people I’ve never seen?

I’m scared they’ll go away?

The last one really bothers me

this is the internet

and we are all strangers

…

maybe it is because

we are poets

…

Confessional poetry

can be dangerous

but it can also bring peace

…

now I’m going to shut my eyes

and dream of nothingness