Bulletproof Glass

If you really loved me,
I’d see it in your eyes,

But if your heart aint in it

I can do without the lies.

If you just don’t feel it

You don’t have to pretend.

I won’t be scarred for life

And my world won’t end.

Coz I’m like bulletproof glass-
I’m transparent. I don’t shatter.

Once I buff the scratches out

What you did won’t matter

Get me crystal clear:

Baby, it’s okay!

If I don’t have your heart

You don’t have to stay.

The door’s wide open-
Leave any time you wanna.

If you think I’ll stop you-
Baby, I aint gonna.

Coz I’m like bulletproof glass-
I’m transparent. I don’t shatter.

Once I buff the scratches out

What you did won’t matter

Detached

I find it so easy to leave it all behind,
Move forward, never want to rewind.
I don't miss people or things or places
Nor crave the sight of familiar faces.
I am a lone ranger.
No stranger to strangers.

A Matter of Perspective

(To Allen, with love)

(un) happy

I'm not unhappy, but not happy either
I'm somewhere in between
If this is bliss, I don't like it
It's too stiflingly static

I'm a social butterfly, a butterfly,
a pretty thing who's loved for that very sin
But I flit here, there, everywhere
And nowhere do I fit in

I have friends, friends and friends
And yet, no friends
Just people who are a means to an end

I see people objectively
Emotionally unattached and distant
It's a strange state of being
Unemotional, yet not unfeeling
Like a doctor cares for a patient
Clinically, but not empathetically

It's a conspicuous emptiness
Unsympathetic yet not hostile

I wish there was genuine hapiness
Behind my ungenuine smile.

The Tree of Dreams

Once upon a wonderous planet
The race of Innocents did live.
The Gods were happy with the folk
And gave them all they had to give.

For every happy wish one made,
A flower blosomed somewhere.
Thus was the earth brilliantly hued-
No tree was ever plain or bare.

For every happy dream one dreamed
A new star appeared that night.
Thus constellations did abound
And bathe the earth in silver light.

The old moon sitting high up there
Among the twinkling dots,
Smiled down upon the Innocents
And blessed their happy lots.

When happy wishes were fulfiled
They engendered happy dreams-
The flowers turned into the stars
That shone like sunny streams.

As long as the Innocents existed,
This remained the planet's state.
But the trees all withered and the stars soon died
For the Innocents succumbed to Hate.

The Mona Lisa

In Musee de Louvre hangs
Da Vinci's greatest work
The Mona Lisa and
Her enigmatic smirk.

Five centuries she's spent
On whitewashed walls
In Royal chambers
And Museum halls.

But imagine, if, though she had once
Been real, she was now replaced
By so much "restoration" paint
That the original work was all effaced?

Festival of Lights

Somewhere along a darkened corridor
Flicker three desolate candle flames.
Ridiculous in their festiveness,
Fairylights twinke away in vain.

Who's way do these candles light
Along the dark, eerie corridors?
Only one person remains tonight
In this empty building with padlocked doors.

The Diya Dance

On a sultry October night
Under the darkened skies
And fickle flickering starlight
Dance four hundred fireflies.

Flutterby

An illustration for my friend Preetha's poem.
To read the poem, go to:
http://therandomworldofmissbiyani.blogspot.com/

(For Preetha, Love Always.)

Mental Snapshot

Vishakhapatnam (Vizag) is built at the point where the Eastern Ghats run right into the sea. The drive down from Vizag to Rishikonda Beach is one of the most picturesque drives you can ever imagine. On your left, all you see is a lush green hill. On your right, the slope drops down, somewhat steeply, to a golden beach. Clear sky and clear water blur into one another at the horizon, blue mirroring blue, till they look like one entity. Even now, I remember it.

(One of my fond memories of our family holiday to Vizag, Sept/Oct 2005.)