Monthly Archives: March 2012

Games

Last night I was
at this party.
Close friends.
Many drinks down.
And they started this
stupid game of
‘Truth or Dare’
and when my turn came
they asked me
with broad grins
If I’d had sex with you.

Just like that
Out of the blue.

I was like ‘wow’

I paused too long.
before I said ‘No!’
Which was the truth,
but felt like a lie.

I should have just
taken the dare.

Don’t you think
so too, love?


Dilemma

How will you get
a grip on your present
if you are still holding
onto your past
with both hands?

Or wringing them,
worrying about the future?

You have just two hands, you know?

And what you do with
them is in your hands.
Literally as well as
figuratively.

On one hand
you’ll choose
wisely.
On the other hand
you won’t.

In that case
you have two legs
to kick yourself with
all your life.

Literally as well as
figuratively.


Weak

I have friends
who pride themselves
on their ability to
cut people off from
their lives.
Their ex-friends,
Their ex-colleagues,
Their ex-lovers.

And they always advice me
to make a clean break,
to burn the bridge,
to walk away without a backward glance.

I can never understand
how they do it.
They can never
understand how
I can’t do it.

Where’s your pride,
they ask me.

I look at their proud,
stern faces in awe.

Can I ever be proud
enough to put my pride
above all else?

Can I let
a misunderstanding,
an unfortunate incident,
an careless word,
an unintended slight,
come in the way of
a lifetime of affection,
years of conversation?

Can I just up
and leave?

Can I never forget
nor forgive?

The answer is no.
I am just not built that way.

And It’s alright.
I’m just weak, I guess.


Abracadabra

If it doesn’t change you,
it ain’t love.

Love turns your head.
Turns your life around.

Your ‘after’ has
no connection
with your ‘before’.

Transformational it is.
Big word but what happens needs a big word.

It makes bankers
cry into books of Neruda.
Makes the potbellied
run the marathon.
Turns chain smokers
turn into
Yoga teachers.
Make decadent rock stars
dream of fatherhood.

And love itself changes.

It goes as quickly
as it comes.

Just the changed
you the only
evidence that
it ever happened.

The really lucky
are less people,
more chameleon.


If

It’s all in your head.

You can behave like
a beggar all your life
or live like a rich man,
it’s up to you.

And it’s not about the
money.

If you make your mind up
you can bench press
two hundred pounds,
run across Sahara,
liberate a nation,
learn a new language,
quit smoking,
save your marriage.

If you make up
your mind.
The operative
word being – if.

It’s free will.
But it’s not free at all.

It demands sacrifice.
It’s bought with belief
It needs a wealth of
awareness.

You can lead your life
being a reaction.
Or you can act now.

It’s up to you.
If you are up to it.

If.


Alas

You know we have
mobile phones and
land lines and instant
messengers
and a new social
networking site
every day

And we have
absolutely
nothing to say.

An entire humanity
reduced to giant mass of
dumbfuckness.

We are being either
too obscure
or too obvious.
Too obtuse or
too acute.

We are so hooked on
information that we have
forgotten wisdom.
We believe a lot of data
can substitute understanding.
We believe connectivity
is more important
than connecting.

We live our lives
update to update,
tweet to tweet,
like hamster with ADD
on ecstacy
Frantically scanning
the horizon for
the next trend.
Like surfers waiting
for waves.

Only surfers
are healthy, happy
and they do get laid.

We can’t grieve, fuck, shit,
talk, eat, exercise
without checking our
smart phones if they
happen to beep.

This is our Karma.
The curse of the sleeping
forests we burnt.
The earth we raped.
The oceans we defiled.

The curse of little birds
and cuddly furry things
and giant fish of the deep we killed.

We too shall be fallow.

Nothing new will be
born of us anymore.
The uterus of our imagination
lies withered.

This is the harvest of
sorrows
we have reaped.


Love all

One should love
like one breathes
regularly and effortlessly.

We are built to love many.

This fidelity business is unnatural.

How can I believe
God wanted me to
love a particular
woman after filling
the earth with beauties?

And the same goes
for women obviously.

And it’s my duty, out
of respect for the Creator,
to adore each one
his creations.
To taste each succulent
fruit of his labour.
If not taste at least to gaze upon.

Amen.