To Greatness and togetherness

Greatness is pursued,
By mortals of lesser taste,
You my friend,
were born great.

Tough times test,
only the tough,
Some nights are beautiful,
Some days rough.

I've go nothing to preach,
Only memories,
Of the night  that it was,
That very moment and some old stories.

Too busy in our lives,
Yes, we've been.
But without these stolen moments,
Life loses its sheen,

The two of us,
are almost always together,
Find time, time and again,
Three over two,is anyday better.

I still think about it,
The indifference on your face,
The void within,
Trying to find its space,

But grateful I am to you,
For staying that night,
All the luck to you,
The noble one, a man upright.

It would be the same old room,
The same set of people, Once again,
We'd just want you to know,
This isn't Sparta, this isn't Spain,
But we care,
Brothers in arms, as I say,
One man armies, Stronger together,
Life shall be tamed, try as hard as it may.

A casual comment, it was on your part,
But I pay heed to the smaller details,
men of our words, that we are,
Here goes this one, even if it fails.

Flashbacks

Lost in translation,
In between the lines,

Sieved through false intellect
And passive reactions,
Quietly,
Time leaked by in fractions,

Dull and Gory,
the same old story,

Of questions asked,
and nights trashed,

And then this desire to relive,
a moment that's passed,

The soft transition,
of the night into the the morn,

This weird desire to belong,
to the time that's gone.

To be or not?

Dropped his armor,
It slowed him down.

If at all he should,
He will lay one last bait.

Fear, he had none.

He'd take one shot at the beast,
And put to an end, this heist.

He will either kill,
or death shall be his tonight.

He looks prepared,
For this one last fight.

And this tiny piece of land,
Shall be the witness first hand.

To the heroics of this brave man,
The last one, of his clan.

Faced by mankind's most perilous question-
" To be or not"?

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".