Secrets

As I walk in wide-eyed wonder, I explore the soot-filled nooks
Unravelling the secrets of life through untold stories
And every fragment of what was brought together
Makes me wonder what brought me to life
The blossoming sexuality, the natural boisterousness
And unfulfilled desires of every human being I meet
On their quest for happiness

Amidst moments of hurt, hate, and heal
While preserving their traditions
Under the onslaught of modernism
Triggers my opinions on personalities and characters
And like shockwaves of panic in a dystopian drama,
I discover the meaning of human nature
Its novelistic details, the filtered perspectives
The strictures of patriarchy and the struggles of matriarchy
It's like a comedy laced with cruelty between rain-soaked epiphanies
The comforting words, ingenuity, the barbed jokes
And the truest opinions from the boldest of souls
Souls that fight to stay alive, that march to stand their ground
Souls that gives witty commentaries
On love and loyalty, money and social classes
On races and religions, dilemmas and conundrums
And on my occasional slip into the realm of melodrama
I realise that life, with its mishaps, is just a practical magic
A drunk night of fries and margaritas
A middle finger protest and feminist treatise
An epic journey alongside a broody convict
And at times, an opportunity to sink
Into the psyche of a single-minded survivor
A singular vision and an individual suicide
But how true are they - these secrets of life?
And how perceptive are we with one secret after another?

-PRK-

Come Second

Once a priority, the next, a reserve
Merely an escape
A fling that's conserved
And my soul was relinquished
To one that don't deserve
The passion so wide
Yet the devotion took a swerve
So I followed the curved line
Led me back to the unknown
My emotions were swirled
As if I was stoned
I felt myself falling, drifting away, alone
Slowly escalating, until I know I was gone
Then I questioned myself
I questioned my faith
Will I last through any weather
Will I survive the interfaith
I've gone through the fifth
Will I make it to the eighth
Or will this forever be my wraith?

-PRK-

Sunset Gaze

As I gaze across the river at dusk
I gaze across many lives
Revealing themselves
And leaving every bit of their soul with me
As I row my boat
Despite the silence, I hear noises
I hear music, every now and then
Not of flutes or soft guitars
But the unconscious howling
Of the mystifying shadows
And often I wonder, are these shadows of the hominians or phantasmas?
Unnamed and trapped
On the other side of the oblivion gate
Constantly battling their way out...
I believe this sunset gaze across the river
Has no end
Time may have abbreviated
And I witnessed change
But will I see these souls again?
Perhaps another sunset
Tomorrow...
Gazing steadily to the horizon
Of orange rays, as it slowly fades
Or after another full moon?

-PRK-

Soulmates Preoccupied

The thoughts of you preoccupy me
My days, my nights,
My personal stories about you, they sanctify me
The late nights we'd spend examining the eroticised city
The quiet moments we'd weakly fight its monstrous credibility
The early mornings we'd reflect its breathtaking need of poetry
Over numberless cigarettes
And countless cups of coffee
Quoting lyrics of our favourite song, escaping reality...
Exploring our raging connection like connoisseurs
And slaves to untutored passion, unlearned propagandas
Moving rhythmically on instincts and conjectures
No disclaimers, no disclosures
No dilemmas, just self-conscious
And an accomplice so uninhibited, a romantic promiscuous
Perhaps soulmates like you and I
Perhaps anonymous poets
With thoughts preoccupied

-PRK-

May We, The Women

See I have this impulse to idolise the dead, the strong
The uncompromised; you can see it in my eyes
The kind of respect I have,
I look up to the women with the strength I'm building to ratify

You can't stop the droplets from slipping in
You can't deny the power that we're bringing in
The tender moments, jokes, and anecdotes that we'll stop at nothing
And the loss we're lapsing into a fond reminiscent

Here's to the heroes that we're missing
To Cleopatra who defined independent strength
To Rosa Parks for the civil rights movement
And Josephine Baker with her rhythmic hands
Stood beside Martin Luther King, not for the fame

Even Malala's bravery was on point then
Who would have thought she could stop the rain
And she fought her pain to open a brand new lane to many stories worth to pen
And Frida Kahlo's agonised poetry on canvas inspired me

You see it's about time we paint our own reality
Like the lady with the lamp in 1853
Florence Nightingale took a stand in equality
And Marie Curie battled sexism entirely
Throughout her journey till 1903
The prize she won didn't mean anything really
But 1911 proved she's not just an accessory

Elizabeth the daughter of one of the most feared Kings
Over decades she was feared like fear was the in thing
Married to her kingdom, the longest serving monarch
The only mistress of half an island, power to the matriarch

But these are only a handful of ones I constantly thank
For knocking on my door of perceptions, never leaving me blank
Heroes in their own right, top of every rank
And Maya Angelou for the poetry bank

And here's to the women soon to be saluted
May the praiseworthy legacy never be polluted
The setbacks, the side paths, may they always be blessed
May we, the major component continue fighting for the rest

-PRK-

The Peace Pipe

I have had faulty illusions
I was mindful, felt just a little lower than God
I wanted to be remembered as some kind of paragon
In full dimensions; unflawed
In several occasions; applaud
Even in the broadest sweep of sea, I wanted to leave my mark
But as I gaze at the ocean,
Beneath the panorama of clouds
Seeking peace in my heart and mind, I was terror-stricken
I felt the pressure of unspoken grief
And every increment of pain, so delicate, yet deadly
In the vastly different darkness
Discouraged my sense of impudence
And led me into the unknown adventure
Pushed me into outmoded territory
Where I saw only incorporeal beings
Poltergeist and shadows of the defeated
Ones who were romantic daredevils
Who lived a poetic life - the Shakespearean type
Browbeaten by hopeful expectation
Who believed they were irreplaceable
That there were no other preferences
Until death began, and time slowly abbreviate
Until strokes of luck cease to exist
Until what is left to do is to plead ignorance
Swim with the tide and rest in peace...
To whom it may concern,
I have smoked the peace pipe
Now let me take this leave
Believe my dying words
And acknowledge my last hurrah

-PRK-