Lessons #6868

(Instagram uploads from @hyperbolemuch)

All the people you've 

Ever loved

And ever touched.

Turned into those stars above.

Those you lost along the way,

Those who stopped 

But did not stay.

The ones who tried

To live in and conquer you.

The ones who were

Just trespassing through.

Some you carry like 

Beating aches inside.

Some whose secrets 

You bury deep and hide.

Some still living 

In strange countries.

Others buried and burnt

Into familiar sleep.

The freckled sky

Is stitched together

Clumsily, only for you,

Night after night.

Always both gloomy

and way too bright.

It wants you to 

Look straight up at 

the shimmering carbons. 

They're burning and shining 

A story the 

Ancients left behind:

"We're all here

We're all still here". 

(Subject inside this stunning picture, my friend @supriyasodhi . Picture Credit @abhishekgaurav. Gulmarg, 2015)

Earthing is what protects structures from lightning strikes. And there I was mid-air, pouring my body of flesh, memories and exposed nerves recklessly into you. Without a thought on how the current would split me into two ~hyperbolemuch . 

(Picture credit my fav Instagram feed @ballerinaproject_ with the stunning @julietdoherty)

Lessons #4736

Of all the things that tore us apart

A few were:

Geography.

Different time-zones.

Your scattered affections.

My hysterically intense ones. 

Your awful taste in movies. 

My contemporary-only bias for fiction. 

But mostly because

You want a piece of the sky

And I want the whole damn ocean.

(Phi Phi Islands, 2014)

*********

Don't look to the waves 

For lessons on leaving.

They never understood,

That truly letting go 

Meant never turning back.

(Goa, 2014)

(I long for old vacations and write poems on my Instagram feed- @hyperbolemuch)

The Boy Who Cried Wolf

There was once a beautiful boy
Who cried "Wolf", every night.
He would tell everyone he saw
Of the animals azure eyes,
The throat-gripping terror and fright.

His friends and lovers came in droves
With sticks & words, threats and stoves.
They loved his beauty and wanted him safe
Of the menacing claws, he said lived inside

a cave.

Every night with will anew,
They waited and plotted beatings
Black and blue.
Nights turned to dusk
Lovers to strangers,
Days to years,
The wolf never came
His stories they couldn't bear to hear.

So lived the gorgeous boy,
Icy winter nights alone.
Still muttering about the wolf,
So beastly and regal, it needed a throne.

He spoke about its glistening fur,

Razor sharp claws, yellowed breath

And treacherous purr.

How the wolf would howl every night,

At a monstrous moon

Far away and stark bright.

He heard its padded steps

From miles away.

Horrified by the wildness

Its softly heaving chest would betray.

Alone, the boy with the beautiful smile
Died
In time to realise
The wolf only ever howled inside.

                                             (Picture inspiration: my favourite neighbourhood cafe, and my corner to read)

Most Art Is Havoc

Of all the things you want to be,

Don't hope to turn into poetry.
Verses bend further
than your body ever should.
Rhymes follow patterns,
Inked into permanence.
A certainty your affections
never knew.


Don't look either, little girl,
at turning into art.
Paints never learnt boundaries
A rainbow in reality was only
hysterical, psychedelic chaos.


Don't hope darling boy,
to relive your favourite scene.
The camera never saw
What the corner of your eye did.
No script has ever followed right,
Those voices in your head.


Never wrap the idea of you
Around a hollowed chestnut
Guitar either.
Those strings wear out and break,
When played recklessly
But
You only spilt blood and loved harder
Each time you were.

                                     
(“You are the main character—the protagonist—the star at the center of your own unfolding story. You’re surrounded by your supporting cast: friends and family hanging in your immediate orbit. Scattered a little further out, a network of acquaintances who drift in and out of contact over the years. )

                                                ((Noel on Canvas. From here)