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the_sophisticated_simpleton

thoughts… mostly in poetic verse !

Grey Tin Giants

From the smoke of its path
It emerges like majesty
Over the bridge and under the stars
Steaming a path it flies on

Like a left and right
And a left and right
The wheels go on and on
Reciting themselves
Like poetry to a song
The path is wayward wandering now

I like to just stand at the door
To soak in the country and ghat and shores
To look and gaze at the skies that stay
With trees that start running again

From a bridge we hear the stories that bind
A long lost tale
Of a lovers plight

Some go happy
Some go sad
Some just linger
Some thoughtful tad

A big grey giant
It sometimes is
The few that stay
Stay for the love of it

In early morning snacks
In late night chai’s
With rummy in the groups
And antakshari plans
Some marriages are made
To travel the beast
Some families stay like homes on wheels

The to and fro sway
That gently rocks
Our souls to sleep
And winters meet

3 friends stay up
To share some joy
Two lovers are up
To share their eyes

When children run by
And innocently smile
They know their chaos
Is for a welcome tribe

Like a journey upon
The water and sky
Some under the caves
Some into the clouds

The hoot
The whistle
The porters
And sighs

This journey can end
But will never stop
They are made as giants
For stories to go on

Grey Tin Giants

Their last Goodbye

Goodbye my lover…
Goodbye she said…
Again whenever, we may meet an end
She starts walking away.. He just looks on
 
They stare…
They stare…
She glimpses
What he is seeing
She knows
What he feels
She undresses
Her mind
And sees him
Without
 
Her looks sends
His mind into hers
His thought sends
Her body into his
Like a sigh or many
They breathe again
Into one another
And exhale again
 
He pulls
Her into
Himself
&
Herself
She draws
Him into
Her mindlessness
Again
 
The heat
The sweat
The hair
The rise
The wonder
Again
 
She closes the door
She cannot walk away
She stares at him
She looks at all his sway
 
He looks at her
He cannot see
What he just lost
He just cannot see
 
They walk toward
One another
They walk
Really slow
They walk
Like their shadows
Were kissing their own
 
She slides down as her drapes fall away
He pushes himself towards the fallen drapes
Like a strain that sheathes
And latches onto another
The grab the other
From walking away
 
A desert dune… The forest of loom
A drop in calm water… The bump on the skin
He sees her parting lips.. She sees him lost
Fighting their desire… They walk away
 
Away.. To the door…
She goes and undoes
He keeps his distance… Lest he undress
He knows
She wants
She knows
He cant
They Sigh
And kiss
Their Last luscious Goodbye
 

An Aroma in Jest

The trail of it’s wonder walks around
Like a smoldering path in a lingering dawn
Away it walks from the birth of itself
In dreams and wings we see her fly
 
Like a spear passing through a heart
Unknown the pain is felt in sighs
Some comic relief is needed with jest
A book is taken as a break from the cries
 
If only so small an onion could kill
If only so big a potato could chill
If only so light a mint could fly
If only so cool the cucumber sighed
 
In blood of one we stir another
In wonder of some we graze their friends
In senses we feel or see or lust
For in death of them we gaze our taste
 
Chops
Slices
Cubes
&
Dices
Slices and
Paste and
Grated daze
Smashed
Boiled
and Churned
in mime
 
To fry
To Stir
To saute
To burn
To roast
To mix
To find its turn
 
Amongst the lost ways of greens we lie
Amongst the aromas of tangy winds of spices
Amongst the thick gravy we seek
Amongst the mixed spices we cry
 
Of what could be an ensemble of Biryani
Of what could be the mixed palak Sabzi
Of what could be a soup that stirs
Of what could be some chunks of everything that hurts
 
It is time to walk back
To stop adoring
To be oneself in heavens delight
To the place of birth
The birth of food
It is time to walk back
To the king the rules
 
Without it we are but just puppets of lore
Without it we are but just jesters alone
Without it we just be zombies yo
Without it we could not be this grown
 
It passes again from another ones heaven
And lures us on as if like a woman
The one who seeks the love of respect
The one who sees the love in jest !

Confused Certainty

if today I’m free, then what was I tomorrow?
if tomorrow I’m bound then what was I the day after?
if I am breaking a trend, will it be left ?
if there is no order, will chaos befriend?
 
i think or maybe not
i feel or should I now
when glancing at a walk, a reminiscence reminds
of what could be found in the jest of sorrow
 
it is confusing I know, the exclusion of grammar
it is confusing I know the absence of Caps
it is irritating again to see what I lapse
it can be a state that makes its amends
 
to categorize someone, something, somewhere cannot be a task
to behave like they care doesn’t seem like a lot
in understatements and announcements they hide their speeches
in mikes and speakers we sell our glitches
 
i am not stating my confused mind
no no
 
maybe it is just my way of jest
maybe it is my bloated chest
maybe it is my fear
maybe it is my tear
 
we could be tomorrow’s
we could have been the day after’s
how would we know when we are
how would we know when we were
 
i am not placing my aching heart
no no
 
for when I come and state my presence
for when I come and state my ignorance
for when I come and state my end
for when I come and be my end
 
you were my tomorrow
you will be my yesterday
you maybe my today
you could be in my sway
 
I am now stating my heart and mind
yes yes
 
~hayed

Penance for the Good !

for in the midst of walking
for amongst the times away
for all the broken warnings
for just sitting so far away

against the days of frolic
against the nights of wonder
against the bridge that mends
against the path of red strays

finding another version for yesterday
finding a vase that is broken
finding a ship that doesn’t drift
finding a face that doesn’t smile

among the cinder and smoky cabins
among the slippery mud filled roads
among another ones shoes that keep breaking
among their graves I walk in peace

they look upon it all in awe
and wonder how it still stays pure
to break it again to try and bend
if reflective joys and sorrows pretend

a break from the vase is what is done
whistling with intent to the slaughters house
whence under lilacs we sleep and stare
down into the sky that breaks

coming away into cycling streams
under a glacier of wanted needs
maybe the time to stay awake
is what a penance for good will make

Penance for the Good !

hayed~

Sound Mistakes

And then there were some
When water and fire smoked the rays
In glitter and smog of sauntering days
Aghast in flames of silver blood
For blue lines creeping out in dust
In jest and neon shades of light
He found the mistakes that water hides
The house of none became a daze
With dusty windows and a spider’s maze
Like the roads that dwell in all of Bree
A stark reminder of an older me
How young we were in forgotten lands
We ran away from black and white
There is but blood from stains that hurt
In forests black and grey with rain
Stepping into the leaves that snow
The Master shall grant His only glow
In sounds and streams of life’s own treads
The mistake in awe would be found then

Sound Mistakes
~hayed

The Drop’off

Glancing lights toward sheepish smiles

A walk in jest is springing up

Away from the silence the hound is reminded

In acceptance of a word the grim does frown

 

Like walking against the cool afternoon breeze

In the autumn rush seeing fallen shadows

Of ropes and strings that hang from broken poles

The chaotic murmurs start filling around

 

A cramped up sky fell under the stars

With still waters creating ripples in the mist

A gaze of the moon light strikes the twilight

Upon a falling branch above the sleeping hound

 

It waits like a lark scavenging through water

Sharpening its claws with the skin of another

In vile and lust they seek some ground

The dusty road starts leading them out

 

A trap is set but for whom and how

The sand just moves like a snake charmers mouth

She looks and looks with eyes that sleep

The water around starts flowing upstream

 

Three chimeras walk upon the watery spades

Like snakes upon a desert that’s glazed

She runs to seek what she has heard

Is it the one she left unhurt?

 

They tiptoe their way around her stem

In a casting glimpse of those shiny drops

Under silver reflections in teary eyes

The fall made claim to a drop’off sight

 

 

 

 

 

 

~time

 

…to leave and measure up another realm
while walking away or into this space
they come and go like monotony
In desperation sometimes In apathy

…Unjust lies awake in parts that mended
The iron clad seats are resisting the cold
with blood and smiles and a strange silver glow
when dancers slip down in rabbit holes

…designed to prey and glide in dreams
with parts of weapons and anomalies
the cut that drew its blood one time
did not do justice to finding peace

…in a rush of blue blood to the head
and pride and honor with a little digress
the love of self was lost in seams
the faith of a burial seemed close at hand

…it was time to leave and leave for good
to play the parasite in its own accord
when the circle goes round to loose itself
it is only then, that it comes around

morning calls

….and the rantings then changed
from white to weather and pouring rains
like moonlight which starts fading away
to give rise to another sway

…if love was as easy as them somehow
we wouldn’t know of when and now
and story nights apart from hers
we watch in gleam of wanderers

…from magic streams of growing horns
and sways of glitter and shoddy halls
in strength and ponder, in light and yonder
she crept onto the grey woolen crowd

…like slippery doors that don’t give way
in aftermaths and older ashtrays
like everything just seems alright
it is just then that brightness bites

…we hear the calling without a muse
and then the simple sound comes loose
Of creeping walls and greener snow
they come to take us to afterglow.

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