LIARS

Liar, liar.
Amidst the fire.
Free supplier-
Simplifier.

Weaving have-not-been's,
To buyers of the the unseen.
Using dirt to clean
Some secret demean.
Seldom even to conceal
The unreal-labelled real.
Before conviction's final appeal.
Before the simple ending deal.

Fear, most- plants the seed,
Sprinkles in silent grief.
And just in the time of need,
Presents a subconscious weed.
Blackened percept,
Sans respect.
Constant suspect,
Futile eject.

No shame, no hope,
No brighter scope.
Perpetual elopes
To ambiguous dopes.
Born during lines of fire,
With several trying to inspire.
Yet, whether by err or desire,
A liar, firstly, is a liar.

-K.G.

GRAYSCALE

Upon a faded, olden page
Had accumulated so much rage,
Of a floral yellow past,
That flew by so gently and so fast.
Like a trained hound—
Chained and bound.
Paying tolls,
Cleaning fishbowls.
Vile imagery— overt and coarse;
Grayscale horizon on April shores.

Since this, till now
When did I take a bow?
Where is the name I made?
What is the part I played.

Be still, my heart;
Don't be dismayed.
We need another start
With a better upgrade.
What has not been
Has no time now,
To be a matter
Of solemn vows.

-K.G.

DEAR SLEEP

Sleep, you cheat!
You coward, you thief.
Quietly upbeat, as my weary nerves retreat-
Creeping from within of me.

Filling visions; requiring provisions.
Many a times, the peculiar kind.
Rattling to and fro, quite daintily though-
Offsprings of the eclipsed mind.

Trails of frost, stitched across
My cold, sullen windowpane.
While from the outside, bulky raindrops collide-
Appealing to my appalling pains.

Pain, is in a moment of truth
It’s in the time, which I realise.
That which probably was, apparently was not-
How it had been left behind.

Seeping in my sensitive skin,
But, alas! Finally in the past.
Maybe there’s more, to gloomy downpours-
Than the grey, ruthless rains.

-K.G.

THE CALL FOR AN ANSWER

Tell me you’re a palette;
Where colours of choice, socialise.
Tell me you’re the brightest star,
An element of paradise.

Tell me that you did exist,
Like a day of the past.
That which again will never be;
For it long ago, ceased to last.

Tell me what I do not believe-
That thing you’re not sure about.
Costing me so many nights,
In despair and in doubt.

Rise to power and boldly shine,
Find the merriest home.
Only, if I call for an answer,
Promise me, you won’t.

-K.G.

YOU AND I

If on an afternoon, you and I

Decide to set the drapes on fire
Cut the sagging telephone wire
Lying low on the backyard mire
We could catch the fleeting times
Meet the relatives of sunshine
And with each sound of the wind-chime
Escape into a different paradigm

If by all means, you and I
Could make some kites to fly
By letting them get as high
As beyond what gravity complies
Bound only by the slightest rope
To which we shall attach our hopes
And when it stations at the starry scope
You and I could quietly elope

-K.G.

(For PRS)

OF ATTITUDE

Let rains set in and kill the untimely weed,

So that in true season, may marigolds lead.

And thus she conveniently knells to retreat,

Before our etiquettes and unjustified needs.

Taught finely to read, write and criticise;

She is aware of all that there is in the sky.

Yet she seeks reason before she cries

Even before nursing dreams in her eyes.

Were she to exist or were she to remain?

Were she to comfort or question the pain?

And while she dealt with strains and restrains,

The ages quietly drizzled down like rain.

 

From there it seemed like an easy world;

From here, long gone is that pretty girl.

Her mascara, her pearls, her fancy dresses

Can hardly make up for her grey tresses.

-KG

TO THE WILD

To above and beyond; to voices more silent,
I boldly go- to an earth, less violent.
To seek only but reason that I must find,
Off the civilisations that grew so unkind.

Far from the educated and the highly civilised
There is but society which is yet exercised.
Sans lie, sans brood, sans all domestic perils,
No love, no hate; not even the wordily thrills.

No scrapers to fill the exploding skies,
Brighter vistas above to feed the eyes.
Residents reside in the green camouflage,
Some prefer humbler abodes; some live at large.

The vows of leaders seldom reach the wild,
Like the teacher's lesson to a back-benched child.
Here, the fancy comforts are so little required,
In dainty wildernesses; delicately wired.

Desire refuses to dismiss this want,
That binds the heart of beguiling haunts.
And if I die to the heavens see;
May this then that holy heaven be.

December, 2014.
Siat.