tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52514792024-03-13T10:26:20.677+05:30like a complete unknownjottings, scribbles, parodies, pastiches,
meanderings, musings, rhymes, and detritus.sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.comBlogger85125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-69726549753665282882021-03-29T10:10:00.005+05:302021-03-29T10:10:40.943+05:30Upon My Mother Turning 85 I remember being seven and climbing onto your back in gleeWhen you substituted graciously for a park treeI remember uneaten tomato sandwiches moulding in my tiffinWhich you made with such care and I casually disdainedI remember the unending concern that fuelled frantic telephone calls While I was gallivanting blissfully absent for days from the hallI remember knocking on the sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-49796059372697617252020-06-03T23:44:00.000+05:302020-06-03T23:51:41.643+05:3046, 4/6
You turn the page,
And feel the rage,
The cave is yawning,
While the rain keeps gnawing.
A cavernous ocean inside,
Of imagined dishes untried,
Efforts that consciously dwindled,
Desires that sputtered, gloriously unkindled.
46, 46, 46, 46,
The beat relentless with slick licks,
The age that capriciously matches the date,
A warm, kind-natured laugh from a smiling Fate.
A synchrony that's sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-31948580914239244012020-03-10T22:59:00.001+05:302020-03-11T04:19:55.779+05:30Apropos a sprained wrist and intimations of mortality
Time rolls on
As you grow forlorn
Rain falls hard
Play the sympathy card
Rise through the crap
Get lost off the map
Switch on the charm
A smile can be a balm
Words don’t rhyme
For beings out of time
Coughs explode in the foreboding silence
Cautious sniffles invite vigilante violence
Rise graceful in the soaking rain
Sacrifices flowing with blood red stains
Listen closely to your sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-34173233799425521212019-12-31T07:45:00.002+05:302019-12-31T07:45:27.432+05:30A Decade hence from Decadence (marking December 31st, 2019 in Delhi)
What have we learnt and who have we lost,
Snacking on sorrow while lamenting the costs,
Three five to four five saw the ripening of remorse,
Intimations of mortality and endings sans recourse.
The future was shiny, now beneath its veneer,
We discern paint strokes, grainy textures all clear,
Decades hurtle past, and urge me "Remember!"
Emotions are sapped, memories yawp "Surrender!"
Spinning sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-55402509123302346582016-06-22T00:42:00.001+05:302016-06-22T00:42:27.603+05:30
3:11am
That was a different life,
Waiting for the pain that never came.
This one is knowing, not wiser,
Richer, yet poorer,
Empty,
Bristling with forgotten dreams,
That cut your fingers.
Crisply the miasma envelopes you, your regular jailor,
Stomping through his nocturnal rounds.
You look up to the sodium light,
Orange bright,
Your heart says take flight.
A joke, a laugh,
A silly tale, to sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-19125336190394259142016-06-07T14:19:00.003+05:302016-06-07T14:19:30.352+05:30
Oblivious
You are breathing through a plastic tube
Sighing softly as I talk stutteringly to you
Oblivious of my remorse
Of the profit and the loss
Of your own joys forsaken and emotional costs
Of internal seas wracked by emotions and tossed
Through this mundane world's churning
Lost moments, my desperate yearning
Oblivious of us stranded here
As you glide silently to a distant shore
My sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-14855582235537378482014-05-04T14:29:00.000+05:302014-05-04T14:29:07.021+05:30
Flashes of childhood,
Spent in play, fields and trees,
Or a white window sill,
Gazing at my mother on the street below.
Slivers of water on an urban pond,
Fishing or boating, quiet laughter,
Night embraces the tiled cafe,
And egg yolk runs slowly to touch toast.
My friend's brown shoes, as he bowls in jeans,
The hush of a friendly audience
Gathered lazily on the lawn,
As the lights go sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-43945119093326457092014-04-04T19:08:00.004+05:302014-04-04T19:08:40.693+05:30No
No lightbulb flares,
No alarm bells jangle,
No telephone rings,
No Damocles' thingie dangles.
No parrot squawks,
No caged bird sings,
No kit of pigeons fly,
No death knell rings.
No glass shatters,
No thunder strikes,
No policeman whistles,
No smoke turns white.
Nothing is obvious,
Nothing is declared,
A small moment passes,
Passes, passes.....
And your heart is dismembered,
Filleted,
By sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-28185571011182079622013-12-07T00:39:00.002+05:302020-03-11T04:18:47.895+05:30
Rambles After
Same old place,
Same old face,
New people making small talk,
New forces making me walk,
The end of the old road,
Understand, I tell you, the new code.
I can see but not hear you talk to me,
Leave me alone, I'd rather be,
Sitting on my balcony,
Reading the history of the Shawnee.
Or anything but drinking with you,
Watching fools of different hues,
Shake their bodies assandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-88690226703413104722013-10-23T17:36:00.002+05:302013-10-23T17:36:37.915+05:30Just out of reach
I thought I had it,
Felt it, smelt it,
Put my finger in its blood,
Heard the noise, felt the thud,
Ran through the powdery foam,
Climbed into the mourning gloom,
Saw the streaking shafts of a strange new day,
Saw the dark-haired child with the dolls of clay.
The new is old, the old is retro,
Retro is how the youth will know,
About birth and death that define us,
Refine us, defile and deride ussandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-26766152937556150402011-10-18T22:25:00.003+05:302011-10-18T22:55:16.896+05:30On a pilgrimage A few miles up the roadFrom the city glinting in the setting sun,I drive slowly in this practical car,Upon my impractical mission,With my friends who will not fathomWhy this drive, at random,But I am waiting for a glimpse that will sufficeOf the calm, composed, unforgotten oneThese gentle roads she's travelled, often fastThese roads the master painted in my headOnce she drummed sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-56797002057234905482011-10-01T12:35:00.004+05:302011-10-01T13:01:41.513+05:30Sank, Roo Doe NooI walk in through the swinging doors To the dimness of 1920Pennants of American Football teams litter the high wallsWoody narrow space,The office folks are rolling up their shirt-sleeves,Ready for the serious business of the weekending drinkingThere's a space by the brass beer tapsWhere I stand to survey the well-preserved memoryDifferent and yet similar This is where Jake met sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-39633795071978585772011-09-22T00:16:00.003+05:302011-09-22T00:28:00.609+05:30Upon hearing of REM's demise Bonne nuit, old chaps,Thanks for supplying the sound-track,Wistful, faraway sad even when celebrating,Smiling wryly while hearts were breaking,Through the shiny confusion of those years,You stood by with your out-of-reach flavour,Your name scrawled on my Camel geometry box,Scribbled lyrics during classes as I searched for meaning,And while I slowly outgrew the sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-60925825441680716262011-06-23T16:44:00.002+05:302011-06-23T16:54:02.572+05:30After seeing a masterpieceFat, ugly, sweaty, grunting,Leering, gruff, searching, hunting,Drinking, mourning, lamenting loss inside,Racist, limping, wracked with prideScheming your worst, fixing the facts,Breaking the code, dishonouring pacts,How real is he, and how real are weFor in film, so rarely we seeA hero subverted, playing a villain's partCreating himself with shady, dark artsHe writes sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-491095006488489022010-11-10T09:03:00.002+05:302010-11-10T09:33:58.618+05:30PICTURES IN MY HEADI don't want that picture of you in my head,The one of you with someone else,I turn my thoughts to think of other things,And prevent the horror movie from playing out.Now, like correct yet meaningless photographs that fadeInto the unknown of visual overloadThis conversation with a friend may blurAnd I will forget where the next few minutes will goBut I won't forget the ache of sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-71461903686401014392010-04-05T14:02:00.003+05:302010-04-05T14:09:40.981+05:30why the momentThe moment seems betterThan a long-drawn out storyMore pure, more possible,Less to endure,less goryEvery film drags, While the plot thickens,Each article grates,While word counts beckonPeople add facetious argumentsCharacters develop endearing flawsAnd I wait, restless, fidgeting,Half-attentive, Checking to see the time that's left.sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-59462591504940724852009-12-31T11:03:00.002+05:302009-12-31T11:14:25.260+05:30decadencethe decade endsand decade hencethoughts of decadencewhat teenage hopes will i shelvedwill life have ebbedwill the spirit survivewhen I'm forty five?what rot may creepdarkness descendrelationships to mendwhen the next decade ends?1999a lifetime awaywho was that personwhat did he wantmemory is hazyand my brain is lazywhat memories will lingerto count on one's fingersthe past is a blurthe sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-50648440541420375022009-02-01T22:32:00.002+05:302009-02-01T22:37:33.807+05:30airport haiku am not quite clear on the syntax of time slipping by, waiting like water clasping the outside of a cold glass of water. Physics dictates a metamorphosis but i now know that things happening dont mean change. I met someone who knew me once many years ago. I wonder what i looked like now, the shell is similar but the inside is strange and thoughtful and different. And most of all sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-17764216224031038802008-12-07T21:53:00.002+05:302008-12-07T21:57:09.127+05:30Fragment discovered while looking for something elseThe city shines at night, and I watch the cars flow like soothing fish east and west on the freeway, weaving the dense fabric of loneliness. The money dribbles into my bank account, while the antiseptic city drains me of human emotions, stabbing me with detestable nostalgia. I talk to the same few people everyday, and I miss the bustle of India.sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-34343620185047310392008-11-30T21:56:00.003+05:302008-11-30T22:06:01.266+05:30A Sunday afterIt's the Sunday after,The guns and automatic weapon chatter,The scorn and anger,The warmth of righteous indignation.The air cond's cool,I'm no fool,Drifting in limbo,Wondering what will become of myself.I have miles to go before I weep,And can't sleep even after counting sheep,I want so much and work so widely,I feel many things, and yet feel brittle.A rhyme is easy, a poem trifle sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-34321103121716148862008-07-05T11:34:00.003+05:302008-07-05T13:23:31.966+05:30Cathy's Place, 7:30 pmCathy's passed on,Charles tells me as he downs another.Arctic beer with minute bubblesWalls littered with soccer scarvesMy old friend rests his aching backThe barmaid rotates in gentle efficiencyThe regulars drift in to friendly greetingsTheir drinks arriving without being orderedThe nations politics discussed brieflyMore urgent is rising prices and the sequence of the sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-30157645007317145562008-06-27T17:23:00.002+05:302008-06-27T17:25:51.930+05:30A super market in CaliforniaBy Allen Ginsberg, with thanks to Jigme L.What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, forI walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headacheself-conscious looking at the full moon.In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I wentinto the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!What peaches and what penumbras! Whole familiesshopping sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-42796687260694601202008-04-24T12:51:00.002+05:302008-04-24T13:07:33.712+05:30after the first leg of the semi finalso it's aprilanother semi-finaland as the ball flies widei sleep fitfully insideand now i wonderwhat has changedfor mr ronaldo and for mehe's become bigger, more likeablei've become smaller, more likeablehe's arrived, i'm yet tohe's missed a shot, i've yet to take minehe may slip to a slump, or rise to the higher heightsi've to rise, see my name in lightsand sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-3991389342920092002008-03-22T00:43:00.002+05:302008-03-22T00:49:04.353+05:3033 and 2/3it's the jesus timeat the jesus agei'm trying to rhymei'm out of ragei'm looking backand feeling sicki've lost tracktoo many things to kickone must go onand feel the painwhen hope's gonetake the straindare to dreamand find the resolveto do those thingstill life dissolvespray to Himfind the vimdon't baulkand stop the talksandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251479.post-9550874814169052232007-10-29T16:47:00.000+05:302007-10-29T17:08:38.304+05:30jack's songmundane,defensive, September's offensive,Futile, facing winter's discontent.fatal attractions, cosmic retractions,perversions and aversions, segue into pleasant diversions,i've forgotten who i was, and where i am headed,what i want, and who i've bedded.night's down, bleeding black,i rest my case, slowly lean back,Yawp at the skies, i'm amused and laughing,the horses snort a shadowy sandeephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03584305204332425079noreply@blogger.com3