Life in Boxes

-->

8th July 2019

Life in boxes

one house to another

Life in boxes

One home to another

Some stuff were broken

Some things were abandoned

Somethings we acquired new

But I was me and you were you

Life in boxes

One house to another

Life in boxes

One home to another

Where are my books?

Where is that yellow pan?

My diary, my pen – there they are

But something’s missing, where you are?

This one thing is not here

This one thing is not found

This one thing, I need, I must,

This one thing got lost in the round

Life in boxes

one house to another

Life in boxes

One home to another

Where is that boo to my bibiddi bobidi?

Where is that thing that turns my key?

Where is that?

Where is that?

It’s in a box

Wrapped in bubble

Travelling the abyss of time

Time travellers. Ahoy!

it flows again

18th January 2015

so it flows again
slowly, it hesitates.
stops and then starts again.
its been a long time
so it hesitates
but it flows again.

the pierced.
the wound.
had bettered
not healed.
it trickles again.

don't. don't. don't be hard.
don't push it. it's gentle. it's vulnerable. it'll crumble. yet again.

it be said. it's been said. it be said again.
eternal cycles of flood and drought reign and will do so.
sometimes more. sometimes less.
but always something. always something.
never nothing. never nothing.
always something.

the last jigsaw piece

19th May '11

u know I love you..

somehow the love gets lost..

and all you hear are the words..

I want to tell you

hold me

hold me real close...

somehow you hear the opposite

and push me away

I want to tell you

it hurts

i'm scared

but all I do is lash out in anger...

at having to tell you...

and you not understanding

on your own

by your own sense of me

I'm not half the person I used to be

there's just some fragments of me remaining here and there

which somehow sometimes adhocly come together...

and I exist... as a fragmentary-multiperson, whose never complete

who begins but never finishes, or finishes but never begins...

it's like

you can see me

but I'm not there

it takes an effort to be whole again

in crowds, it's easy

to fit in, to stand out, to talk, to laugh, to sing, to dance, or just be grumpy..

but what do you do, when there's no audience?

when you're just alone, with yourself, and then sometimes with the one who's home..

do you become your own audience?

how can logic always work?

how can the right way be the same right way for all?

how can one fit the wrong piece in the right jigsaw?

what if the missing piece never existed?