Day 330: Unburdened

Someone told me there is a rule of thumb, if you are friends for more than 7 years, you are friends for life. While I know how arbitrary that sounds, I wonder how that is different from everything else that might be arbitrary. Why we value somethings over other when we meet people, why we feel the need to share stories on phones and conversations alike, why we feel that connection we cannot completely understand. In every waking hour once in a while I do know that we are unburdened by these acts, though they may sound selfish from time to time. But then I tell myself this is what friends are for and in time this is what we must all become. For now come unburden my friend, we have nothing to keep behind these door and not much of which we need to pretend.

Unburdened
These are the things I will let go,  atleast a few of them in time
They are my burdens, unburdened in my mind
Conversations at a secret place, we will share much of life
And built sand castles out of hope as time passes us by

These silly things that you say, some that haunts you for a while
While you look for just a hint and a glimpse of a smile
While for a few of those in life, who will come and go,
They will hold on to things, but they may never show.

These are the hours that I need to recollect
Where I know I have grown over and over, even with my regrets
I have been both weak and sometimes unexpectedly strong
I have learned to be just right and sometimes accept what is wrong

You are slowdowns in life I need, but cannot comprehend
You are pauses; I support and truly recommend
For most fond things in life come unannounced some days
While we look for the unattached, and lost strings in dismay

Day 329: Don't Spend Me

Don't spend me all, we are things that rise and fall in each other's life, in time as we make things right or maybe we make more mistakes. Maybe we will rectify the things that need fixing for now, we are scattered brain and maybe we are figuring out how. This one is written with just that thought in time, as I keep moving, I see things I move away from and things I move towards. Maybe I am too attached to things I lay claim, I keep making the same mistakes. You read the prelude in the hope of a clue and I keep trying to not rhyme. It isn't funny anymore till we have grown out of space, while I like for a new white board , somethings even time can't erase. Don't spend me I say, keep me wrapped some days, as I heal hoping never to be the same. I am looking for solace in the places I can still be, just imperfect at best, changing just enough of "me".

Don't Spend Me
Don't spend me all; now, I am not easy to come by
I am in every attempt that you make & every time I try
And the doors and windows are silent witnesses to me
While I try to crack the walls to somehow break free

Don't listen to me, but just try if you can
I am lines you draw and erase on wet and dry sand
Follow through to places, where ever you need to be
You are right where you started, with or without me

Don't keep me too close, like the last bits of things you hold
I am worth something to you, till the point I am sold
I am loose change in your pocket, in the sounds that I make
Writing about right from wrong, about my own mistakes

I am just a phase if you are ready to believe,
Just a moment in your life, getting ready to leave
Paper boats they never travel back home
Spend me just enough, lest maybe I am all gone

Day 328: Lie Here

Sometimes being incomplete has it's own perks. Whether it is the necessary pause that is needed before starting again. Whether it is the push we need to reset and restart, they are helpful in a odd way. Lie here , right here talks of a pause in time and space kept secret from each other. We don't know when we need the break and neither where. So the endless rooting of the night that lies thousands of miles away comes to my mind, and from a warm place I write to a cold winter night. Hoping something, lies still and somethings get by.

Lie Here
Lie here on the cold and icy floor
There are no carpets for now, just an open door
And the cracked windows don't help either way
To capture that warmth that gets away

Lie here huddled & cuddled just a bit
Painting with your breath on the air beneath
I am not cold, just colder inside still
So I write to no one who is listening of his own will

Lie here covered in colors that drapes the wall
Drops that fight with gravity, refusing to take the fall
So I am not reminded of the easy things,
Just tell me where it ends or where it all begins

Let me inside for heaven's sake
Lie with me, stop me from making mistakes
Just read with me what I take time to write
Lie with me, lie here, even if just for a while

Day 327: With You

The idea for this one was from group chats and collectives alike, It is about decision making when it is set free without any instructions. In the chaos with you my friend the bitter and better things of life become clearer to me. As kids we seem to trail these tails of kites that have been set loose and we are getting the ground running. For now I hear the knocks and footsteps on my phone, these little escapes on a 5 inch screen that locks and unlocks, that changes and keeps adding on. With you these things that are easy from time to time, they are as simple as writing poetry, sometimes with or without a rhyme

With You
With you I have stayed through the night wide awake
Sleep by the side of the day, thinking of thoughts I cannot shake
As bit by bit, you were carried onto fiction as you fade
Warm charcoal sketches on the sides of canvases, one I cannot erase

Without the end of this varied hours, the chances are we don't count
Lost in just the simplicity of planning for infinity, not knowing how
Why buy tickets to shows, we may never ever get to see
Why count the days, this Thursday, Friday or whatever they may be

My dear friends, my WhatsApp groups, my after hour pings
For you I will sometimes write and in the quiet nights I will sing
I will correct the things that you feel are wrong, they are parts of me
They are best attempts of myself with me & some thoughts set free

With you this too will change, whether they will be about yesterday
Whether we have climbed together these walls we left behind someways
Choose only this much for now, the rest of things will fall into place
While with you, we will run like kids, these trails of dreams we will chase

Day 326: Tell Me

Sometimes the easiest thing to do , if you have the time, the money and the inclination is to stare at a big board of destinations and fly out. I know this sounds like a plot from a movie but once in a while this notion of thinking something afterwards seems far too interesting to pass by. Whether it is after I reach that I tell you where I went. Tell me that the important things, whatever they are will still be in these moments of whimsy, tell me you will look at clues I leave behind, maybe you will find me. Sometimes the only reason to take these trips are to build your own maps, to and from places as we enter and exit familiarity, and find a little quiet time for a piece of our mind. For now tell me just what is needed as it changes in the blink of an eye.

Tell Me
Tell me I will find what is needed
That no matter what, it won't seem conceded
The hand that raises and lays you somewhere down
Tell me I will be hungry for more things to be found

I have packed up and moved away, changed my address
So that your maps keeps rerouting but can no longer redirect
The new places, where I have yet to settle down for now
Don't exist in the maps you own, I keep them secret somehow

Tell me that you have known me, even if just for a while
That I have left with a sweet aftertaste and maybe even a smile
To those who have knocked at some of these closed door
In places where I would find you or where you would look for me before

Tell me I will find writing in places that are uninspired
That you won't complain and that you will never be too tired
I will pack my bags and leave in the wee hours of the day
Tell me you will wish for more, hoping some things had stayed

Day 325: Patchwork Life

I have not written in quite a few days as I have been travelling non stop. Though I know not whom I must apologize about it but I feel nonetheless that I should. There are times during my travels I get a chance no matter how rare to meet up with lost friends and people who define you in someway. I think of these meetings as pieces of a giant patchwork we keep creating. Whether they are about meeting up for a cup of coffee, as time stands still and someone queues in the music, everything else just feels like a tape on rewind. We get to live these memories some bits that you remember and some that I do, and together these stories we stitch. Patchwork Life is that story telling I experience and experienced in the past and even today as I find these pieces among lost time, thank you for that.

Patchwork Life
Think of loud things these tones that don't fade away
Voices in your head that are here to stay
And as we paint the sky red and the night blue
Just be yourself, whatever that means to you

The patchwork me and patchwork you we create
We come together in moments that memories can't satiate
The bookends of these chapters that on napkins we write
How we have managed to come far, in time our feelings survived

These glasses we pour some nights, as the hours take a bow
I answer to no one, and no one seems to question me for now
We will define that which we get to keep & that which we write
We am patchworks etched onto a part of this night

Come decide who you want to be, much has yet to be defined
The stories are far from being complete, if you keep hitting rewind
The bits and pieces of things we write, I know they are imperfect
Let the glue dry on the patchwork we make, in time it will set

Day 324: Perfect Keys

Some will say that the perfect state of being is the state of constant motion, never settling down, never lying down ever for a while. For there is no rest for the weary, he cannot come back home, so he go around in circles even if he is not alone. These obsessions with motion, with the idea of not being stuck to something, not being committed to anything like everything else maybe just a phase. Maybe we have found these to be the perfect keys, as we keep moving and shifting our stage. I have not stolen much from the night, maybe just a little company and maybe warmth in the cold winter tonight. As these perfect keys in the background they play, I pack my bags and simply move away.

Perfect Keys
So they played in the corner of my room
With places; I can hear from but cannot see
The pots and pans they lay quiet somewhere
Playing symphony of my mind in perfect keys

These hours of the night, that I refuse to chase
They won't listen to me or you, in time, they will age
For those who cast a shadow even without being close
I write to them in the quiet and behind the closed doors

The cups of tea mellowed, for now, just milk poured into a glass
Just reminders of the things that don't stay, some that pass
At journey's beginning or journey's end, you ask me of what I feel
I just need to move for now, even if I can't find the perfect key

For some these obsessions into the night, will fade in time too
These closed loops of thoughts, and the things we chase as fools
In the storyteller's cradle, a story quietly sleeps for now
As I look for rhythms I find, I know not why and I know not how

Day 323: Confidant

I keep thinking about the secrets we keep with people and the ones that others keep with us. They are not just secrets, they are sometimes hopes and dreams, they are strengths and weaknesses and sometimes smiles and sadness alike. These confidants we trust, these bearers of trust we become and with whom we entrust this, are special in our lives. They are reminders that we are grounded at least a little in those who share these burdens with us and for some we share the same. I write these to the confidants in our lives, the ones who know more about us in the bits and pieces we do choose to share. I keep hoping we never forget that we are always more than mere parts of a whole, we are the whole at least in versions of ourselves.

Confidant
Such are writings that I cannot write
Things I keep secret and cannot confide
For the world must grow as must I
On a restless day or maybe just a clear night

Such are reminiscences of our strongest hour
They are aftertastes of bitter, sweet & sour
When all that we know of has been said & done
We unwind in these who share with us, even if just one

To the ears, that listen, to those who understand
Who refuse to let go and who sometimes take a stand
I want you to know that I listen back too
Even if you say, you want the company in the quiet we knew

To the secret keepers and to those who share
Who have learned, to be honest, and write but bare
The parts of my mind that knows no one better for now
You are a confidant, a friend among the many that I know

I have not learned how to be different, but just to be kind
To lend an ear when you feel that true feelings are hard to find
I am docked like a boat but not caught by the wind or tide
I know of nothing more than invisible trails that I follow sometimes

Day 322: We Are

Sometimes our grandest inspiration, comes from simply being able to define who we are. Are we something that is split into many parts and we call upon each other as needed? Are we parts of a whole, versions that make us better every single day. Are we happiness trapped with just a little sad, are we the sanity we look for when we feel the world maybe driving us mad? I see wonder in spending just some afternoons at best, thinking about nothing just giving your mind a rest. For a few inspiration will simply come and go, at the best and worst of times you will find yourself and you will know. We are who and whatever we are

We Are
We are the hungry few, caught in the act
Trying to read all we can wherever we are at
Divided by so little united by so much
Held in pure memories as we slowly lose touch

We are the crazy ones, in search of fiction in real life
Wishing the best comes rare but comes when we strive
So we fall in love with the very chances that we take
We learn to be better with every other mistake

We are incomplete & yet kept in a picture frame
In the making of something great or that which remains
Finding insight where there may be none to find
We are building memories as the world loses its mind

We are midday escapes from one place to the next
Restless eyes that are far too awake to take rest
So we mellow in songs but we sound so alive
We are who we are, our versions of our best fights

Day 321: Night & Day

Sometimes all you need to do is believe that in the absence of plans you can find inspiration profound, you can find freedom when you need it the most, you can find happiness where you least expect it. We are expensing them bit by bit and losing track. We are no longer in the business of making sense of everything around us, We are systems without purpose sometimes, driftwood on the shore of the river bank. As we see the love affair between the day and night, we ca't help but ponder how much we get to remember from all this.

Night & Day
This is me writing from one of my escapes
At beginning of it all or maybe the end of days
And whatever is poured into my glass
The spirit of the night, that was meant to last

They make music from nothing more than thin air
As though the night & day are bound by a love affair
The breaks in between causes even time to slow
For the unscripted bits of life, they go as they may go

Hour long or hour short, whatever the day may be,
Why I sit between a crowd & think of writing poetry
While the basement with imagination seems to come alive
As I move again and again between places & into the night

The host of things that change slow for me now
Some in my imagination and some real life somehow
As I toast another glass and speak of & with words
I capture my night in poetry and in my last verse

Day 320: Winter Smoke

There seems to be a love-hate relationship we are having with winter this year. It cools down and warms up just the same and just when you think you have seen it calm, it will remind you that it can turn insane. So I blow winter smoke as my breath touches the cold air, and I write with just a little bit of warmth knowing my words meet me half way there. This night as she gets ready to sleep, it slumbers in my poetry and the few words that I got to keep.

Winter Smoke
So this is you, making up your mind?
You come down as snow & slowly unwind
You come and go, in the hours of the night
I see winter smoke as I breathe onto the sky

The night she stays still, she freezes slow
She unravels as I walk back home in the snow
I am drawing circles with my feet out and around
As I pace back leaving footprint on covered ground

The winter smoke that breathes into day
Sunlight I steal from the hours that get away
And like the turn of the hour hand or minutes at best
I am living bit and bit, unplanned for the rest

Come and visit me this spring time, I will be here
I will dust off these leaves & we will start a story that is dear
Some will say that winter might come and slowly go
The winter smoke I breathe and in the wind, it blows

Day 319: The Familiar Simple

"Loading updates" flashed on the screen for a few seconds as the icon which resembled a circle kept going round and round. It was 3 in the morning so the obvious reasons as to why I was updating my google feed slipped my mind. I had not written for the last two days and I felt the need to keep refreshing something, again and again. It was my way of recollecting my thoughts and reloading them back into my mind hoping for something to change. I have started with the third and the last week of written exams this week, and for those who have learned to go step by step with things, know when I say it is not all that fun to begin with. I keep rehashing and figuring out perfectly how to summarize things that I may know and some that I have learned. There is a premium we attach to being simple, about being as concise and clear as possible which I feel stems from the need of familiarity. So I decided to write about this relationship between the simple and the familiar

The Familiar Simple
We are in love every day with just this much, the simple
We are not looking for more than enough, just ample
So we refresh, we rewrite and we restate what we say
We are looking for the familiar simple in every single day

We are told that these are in things we write about
In moments of clarity which we find when surrounded by doubt
We are in and out of your mind in the time that you read
Leaving behind inscriptions and meanings to pay heed

We are writing summaries every day, the ones we need to refine
They are imperfect as they may be, but I claim them as mine
We have figured out what we need to do, so we build it in our head
As I lay dreaming wide awake, as you find sleep in your bed

The familiar and the simple seem far & sometimes too far to reach
I am writing them down one by one, I am reminding myself of each
For much has been said & done, much has yet to come
As we keep looking for the familiar simple in what we have become