34 and a Day

i’m glad to be me

there’s no one else i’d rather be

it’s taken me 34 years and a day

to feel this way

but when the reward is this great

time is a small price to pay

i know others have consciousness 

just like me

but are they as conscious 

of how awesome it is to see?

i know i didn’t use to be

until love came to me

it has found me

in many forms, at many times

sometimes as pills and smoke and wine

sometimes as lines

but through it all,

there is this stillness within me

that is as close as i have ever come

to being free

i used to be quiet

now i often talk too much

but that core inside

doesn’t subside

never retires

until maybe

i expire?

my friends and i

we have started talking about old age now

and not in a mocking manner

the questions are real now

and the worry somehow grander

but despite it all,

there is a wonder within me

a wide-eyed boy inside

who can only count to three

Prav is how i sign off now

though i’ve been called jojo, pravs and pavee

perhaps i’m also an avi

or am i really not all that savvy?

i’m 34 and a day

but i think i’m just learning how to play :)

A Song for the Masses

I want to write a song
a song to end all wars
a song to heal all scars
a song to open fresh ones
and one to celebrate greatness.

I want to write a song
a song that will never fade away
a song that will not die with age
a song that will stay
with you and me, always.

I want to write a song
a song that will bring people near
a song that the kids will play
a song to turn your knees to clay
one that the gods will fear.

I want to write a song
a song to wake you up
a song to make it up
a song to break your heart
and mine, just by the way.

The day Google blinked

Google engineers come face to face with my jinxed luck :P

Lonely Hearts Club

Darkness descends on 22 Maple Drive
and so do a motley band of men & women.
With heads covered and eyes bent, they arrive
bringing shame in their stride.

Inside, a roomful of candles flicker
casting their gloom on the guests as they enter
one by one
and fortify themselves with liquor.
They know, in the ordeal ahead
It’ll be their only succor.

Sooner or later someone had to start.
A brave soul stepped forward to be the guinea pig
He said, with one last swig:
“It’ll smart, when we part
I don’t know how I’ll survive
Kept like this from her
apart.”

Another took up the tale:
“Could they be more perfect
our friends used to wonder
Then the unthinkable happened
and we were torn asunder as if by thunder
He, full of fury
I, full of misery
Brought on by an innocent blunder.”

And so, the confessions continue
A broken heart here, a forgotten spirit there
The stories are nothing new
and when it comes time for the review
with an understanding nod, a kind smile
do they the storytellers faith renew.

Now it’s nearing daylight
Just as they came, they all depart
one by one
so as not to give the neighbours a fright.
But mostly because
they know, solitude is their only right.

A Moment Lost

I have
no rhyme, no meter
On the threshold of greatness
I falter.

I must
think up, write down
Imbibe the visions that come
with renown.

I pray
for wisdom, a word
Instead what comes out
is turd.

I wake
up, realise
the moment has passed me by
I sigh
time for me
to awake.

What dreams may come

I close my eyes
and I say goodbye to sleep again
as I drift back to where it all began.

Outside, it’s starting to rain again
And I see you
lost in your pain again
as I do what I can.

But we both know
I’ve missed the train again
Maybe if I’d been more of a man
we could’ve sung the refrain again.

Then I open my eyes
and thank God I ran.

Twenty-Six and a Day

Year after year, I am reminded
we are ageless.

Our skin grows old and wrinkled
But the smile remains timeless.
Backs get bent
Gracious gestures live on.
Hair falls out, teeth follow
The twinkle in your eye never does.
Hands shake
Strength of character does not.
Memories and bowels grow erratic
Love just grows.
Legs become weak
Not the desire to stand tall.
Boobs sag, ears flap, lips droop
But the person inside shines through all.
The frame shrinks
While the contents multiply.

Day after day, I am reminded
we are priceless.

A Singular Truth

Truth is. Lies are.

A linguistic aberration? A whim of chance? Or something more?

Can it be that grammar teaches us the indivisible nature of truth? And the recurring, many-headed character of lies?

One God, one Truth and only one measure of success. We are taught this in a world where all that we see is a contradiction of all three. There are atheists and there is polytheism. There are gypsies and there is the Housewives Association of Victoria. And there are many versions of Truth – each one equally real and alive to its owner.

How about Lies then? They multiply, duplicate, add-on, and ultimately – divide. We have all experienced the futility of killing a lie, while so many of its insidious relatives fill the world, like Indians filling America.

The question is – have few ever really triumphed over many?

Perhaps the clue to the identity of the final victor is also buried in grammar. You lie. But you have to tell the truth. Or be truthful. The first comes naturally, but the latter needs conscious effort. Truth costs us.

Then again, perhaps it’s not really a victory for Lies as much as a reversal to his true nature for Man.

Because the real Singular Truth is: Lies are us.

God's Greatest Deed or: What the Owl told the Rabbit

A long, long time ago, God created our world. He then filled it with a multitude of wonderful creatures – on land, in the air and under the seas. He also created all manners of flowers, fruits and trees so that they may thrive and multiply. And his heart was gladdened when he saw all that he had accomplished.

But no deed, however great, is reward unto itself – even God needs recognition and praise.

So it came to pass, that He called all the creatures of heaven to look at his work and witness all that he had created.

And as He wished, so was it done. The Sun and the moon, and all the stars, along with all the angels from heaven came to look at the world, and all were awed by its many wonders.

But there was one amongst them who was envious. He could not abide the adulation the others lavished on Him. And so he spoke out:

“Your creatures are many, but they are not varied. All are meek and resemble one another. They will eventually run out of grass and fruits to eat, multiplying unheeded.”

But God, in all his glory, was not put out. He merely smiled, and then created all manners of predators. Surely the Cheetah’s speed, the Eagle’s skill and the Lion’s majesty would be enough to silence anyone.

But the one was not quelled. He again spoke:

“These are just dumb killing machines – they have no cunning, no artifice. Perhaps you can only create what you know, reproducing parts of your own qualities in these inferior copies.”

God created the Snake.

“Clever, but still a mere copy – this time of me. Let’s see you make a creature that surpasses them all in cunning and depravity of purpose. The greatest killing machine invested with the choicest of unholy qualities, so that it may bring all of nature itself to her knees. Then, and only then, will you be the true Creator.”

God created Man.

And that’s how the devil ensured the destruction of God’s greatest deed.

The Soldier

The sun beats down my back
sweat drips off my brow
and I feel my companions hot breath on my neck
as we march, foot after foot
mile after mile.

Each step brings us closer to the hour of battle
closer to honour
to pieces of metal on our chests
and to the stench of death.

We halt for the night
with an extra tot of rum
and, for the lucky few, opium.

We talk of honour, morality, justice
to pass the idle hours before daylight.
But in the thick of battle
there’s only the heat
and a job to be done.

A leg carried away by canon shot
an arm lost in the charge
another friend cut down by my side
and the only thought I can spare
“Today it’s him
tomorrow it may be me.”

And so it’s done.
Another battle lived through
another one to look forward to
and we move on.

No loyalty, nor patriotism
Not even a heroes welcome keeps us going
What we crave, is clean linen and a warm bed
after our march, foot after foot
mile after mile.

One for the road

I saw the reflection and almost panicked. But she didn’t notice anything, moving away from the mirror and turning toward me.
“How about dinner” she asked. “Sure” I said and sunk my teeth into her neck.

And so, all hope comes to an end.

From Che

My heart sway[ed] between her
and the street, the road.
I don't know where I found the strength
to free myself from her eyes
to slip from her arms.
She stayed, crying through rain and glass
clouded with grief and tears.
She stayed, unable to cry
Wait! I will come walking with you.

- Miguel Otero Silva, Venezuelan poet & novelist

The problem with drinking

The problem with drinking is that people do it on every occasion. They drink to celebrate when they are happy, and they drink to drown their misery when things are bad.

I promised myself I would be different. I would choose one occasion for my drinking, and stick to it - either ecstasy or misery. And since I didn't want to become addicted to the stuff, I chose the first.

That is why, my friends, I will not be drinking today.