Life!

Looks wiped clean,
The earth.
The air too.

Smells like, Satiation
Like exasperation
Like a poet's inspiration.

The perfect morning!

Standing at the sixth floor,
He finishes his cigarette,
And goes off to bed.

Of sons and fathers

This one,
doesn't taste good,
when not served cold.

It does,
when  it's chilled..

They might call it revenge..
I plainly call it-
A mug of beer.'

Contemplations,
Half-developed insights,
of half developed minds,
Meet their fathers now.

Right here!
Yes, right now.

For you, Kaka!!

And he was one of a kind,

One who didn't know inhibitions,

And he knew no fear.

The God's child, I'd say,

For, he sung in words,

That seemed divine.

And he created the music too..

His fingers strum the strings,

Like butter was meant for bread,

A man honest, caring and a genius,

Beyond what words could describe,

A gem, I'd say.

I do not mean much,

In this world so fast,

But in my passive tone, I'd say..

May you sing songs of joy,

Of friends, of love,

Of destinations, of journeys..

I will listen to them all,

Repeating till eternity,

Perhaps until,

You write your story down.

And then play your songs,

On repeat,

Again for eternity. 

Sometimes

The man in the mirror, I know not!
A stranger? Or someone I forgot?

To him, I tell a secret though,
For I thought he should know,

"Sometimes when I see you,
 I miss the boy, I once knew".