Circumstantial You

It is a foolish misconception to believe that the moments in life define you,

For it is not by our circumstances that we are defined but by the way we react to them.

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The Tragedy of Commons

He wakes with the sun and breathes in the sea,

With his net aloft his shoulder he walks with the breeze,

He hopes the reel in is abundant with fish,

Oblivious to the fact that he shares his neighbour’s wish.

The two of them know that everyone enjoys a nice fillet,

And so they compete with each other for the catch of the day.

Nobody in particular owns the fish of the Earth,

So how much one gets is first come, first serve.

It bodes them well to leave some fish behind,

To repopulate the waters, so that there can be a next time…

However, this isn’t a matter of the heart –

If one acts in preservation, the other may not take part.

The end result is then going to be the same,

His conservative efforts would meet depletion in vain,

So both get together and try and maximize-

Profits, with an agenda marked with short sight.

Change of scene – the Manhattan skyline comes into view,

People blissfully unaware of Wall Street’s catastrophic brew.

Breaking loans into tinier bits to consume,

The Bankers wanted to have their cake and eat it too.

They handed out loans to people who couldn’t pay,

Profits in mind, they paid no sight to the market’s doomsday.

Consumers  had more than they could possibly hold-

Losses piled up, looked like the financial system would soon close.

Like vultures they fed off profits for food,

They couldn’t care less if your credit score was good.

The paid no heed to warnings of consequence,

As the world shook under the weight of their incompetence.

This narrative needs no assistance to proceed,

It’s built on the concrete foundation of human greed.

A story of how people act independently in self-interest,

Not seeing that something else might be what serves them best.

It is an interesting take on an economic phenomenon,

I believe it is aptly called the Tragedy of Commons.

Debris in Ribbons

“You’re so absent minded.” She says,
As I find myself unable to deny the allegations.
“You should learn to be a little responsible.”
Her voice unmistakably laced with condescension.
“This is rather disappointing.”
My heart shatters into a million pieces.
“You need to be more careful.”
I pray caution is a lesson someone teaches.
“You lose your things too often.”
Oh God, how I wish I didn’t.
“You’re such a colossal mess.”
It must be difficult to wrap debris in ribbons.

 

 

Image source: internet

Walking On Roses

It’s so easy to feel alone,

To feel like I’m in this on my own.

It’s so easy to drain my reservoir of hope,

To believe that there’s nothing that could help me cope,

With the pile of books that somehow keep increasing,

And Blank pages with no stains of ink seen.

Suddenly, it seems almost insurmountable,

Something that was in the beginning, surely possible.

The clock hands almost provoke me to respond…

But the machinations are just inviting me to despond.

So that I could just retire to my fate,

So that I could be anything but self-made.

However, I wasn’t made to waste,

I’d just been waiting, pointlessly, to be saved.

The sound of my phone rents the air,

That a moment ago was so pregnant with despair.

He said that when he met me the other day

I seemed about as odd as withered flowers in May

Something had surely dampened my spirits

And he assured me that it hadn’t gone unnoticed

I did not want to breathe a single word

What if I let out those screams that for so long had remained unheard?

Piece by piece he broke down my mountain,

He charted a path to the goals I’d once believed in.

A smile crept on my face, for the first time in forever,

When I felt like I had no one, I forgot I had a brother.

He refused to let my light dissolve into darkness

He held my soul close when I seemed to have lost it.

He shatters the threat that doubt in myself poses,

And made walking on thorns feel like walking on roses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How Dare You?

How dare you touch her?

I don’t recall an invitation…

I don’t remember a sign,

That told you to help yourself,

And that she would just resign

To her fate written by your lust.

 

How dare you defile an angel?

You miserable low – life scum.

I don’t remember giving you the right

To rob her of safety,

To scar her with fright,

That haunts her now, every time a man walks by.

 

How dare you walk away?

Like nothing even happened…

As her voice cannot escape,

Because you thought, “Why not?”

Because you needn’t fear a consequence

That stems from action on a filthy thought.

 

How dare you shake her strength?

In a pathetic attempt to bask in the revelry

Of the satisfaction of a carnal need.

She is stronger than you make her feel.

You are not worthy of her doubt,

But you’re the reason she thinks twice before she goes out.

 

Note: [Picture Source: The Indian Express]

What I have to say

I wonder when it happened…
When holding a mic felt like home,
When talking to ten thousand,
Felt like talking to my mother on the phone.

There’s an odd sense of familiarity,
That comes with the words I say,
That play out so effortlessly,
Like I’ve known them since the dawn of age.

If only I could finger-point,
What exactly changed my mind,
What undid the inhibitions,
That kept me on the sidelines.

I bask in the unfettered Liberty
That comes with anonymity and fame,
Then I step out of the spotlight;
I become the picture outside the frame.

They ask me how I do it
And I wish I knew how,
And saying that it just happens,
I smile and take a bow.

I guess it wasn’t something spectacular,
There’s not much there to narrate,
It all fell in place when what I had to say,
Became more important than being  afraid.

Picture Perfect

These are just moments,

So many inbetweens, unseen

These are just poses,

To hide the arguments that threaten the seams.

 

So the picture could be scenic,

Of us by a beautiful beach…

But when we throw our daggers,

They’re pictures no one dares to click.

 

We smile in all the scrapbook photos

Because no one washes their linen in public,

We throw our fits behind closed doors

Because the neighbours aren’t that hard to trick.

 

So let’s make them jealous,

Not intentionally, of course…

We just live the moment,

From one fight to one night sleeping alone.

 

We pierce wood in the ground we stand on,

Call it a picket fence or prison…

Night dies and day dawns,

Time to act, someone call action.

Great Expectations

We wake with the dawn that with the sun comes in ostentation,
And slumber peacefully when the moon dominates the sky,
And the rest of the day we spend in inane abstraction
Barely noticing as our lives pass us by.

There is no true satisfaction
Because we live in our own little bubbles, enclosed.
There can be no real gratification,
When we don’t deign to look beyond our own nose.

So why don’t we try a little giving,
Taking time off to extract a smile,
From someone who is least expecting,
Something good to come out of life?

Don’t put it beyond you because you are too ordinary
Or all the money you earn needs to be preserved
The resources we need are not monetary
Your love is a boundless reserve.

So take that second to lend a smile that will say
To another that you care enough that he’s around,
Change the world in your own little way
And volunteer with us now.

And in a world torn apart by war,
Serve to be an inspiration,
Be the one that will restore,
Hope in Man and Great Expectations.

Nice can mean Deceiving

You are in an abyss,

A world in disguise,

Where honesty vanishes,

A network of lies.

Where the people you love rebuke you

And the stranger is nice

Let your intuition lead you,

Let not your heart be your guide.

The stranger will seem better,

In numerous convincing ways

But beware you must,

For what the heart sees does not agree with the brain.

And in this Earth of misery,

Where people plot and connive,

You must seek out honesty,

And remain prudent and wise,

For sugar sweet words maybe nice to hear,

And may raise your self-esteem,

But sugary words you do need to fear:

For nice can mean deceiving.

Game

Do I still mean something to you?

Despite you believing that I lied?

Do I still mean the world to you?

Or was it a passing tide?

 

Do you want to talk about it?

I think I can hold my ground,

If you say anything now that will make me feel

Like my world will come crumbling down.

 

Shall we sit face to face?

And look into each other’s eyes?

Remove all the falsified hate…

To uncover something I want you to find.

 

Maybe you will hate me more

Maybe I will cry,

Maybe I won’t be strong enough

To hear those words come to life.

 

I tell you all that I hid,

Hoping you’d understand

But I know your battle grounds have changed,

We’re no longer hand in hand.

 

Sitting here faced across from you,

On a day I never thought would come,

Is a little bit of a disappointing tune,

To the song of greater good I have always sung.

 

Your eyes widen just a little bit,

Baffled, you ask me why

Then you say you don’t believe it…

And I show you the proof I have tried to hide.

 

You remained stunned as to why I would do something

So detrimental to my own good,

Well, if I hadn’t done the necessity

That ground would have been pulled from where you stood.

 

So I gave you a false sense of security,

So that all may stay undisturbed,

Despite the knife you drove through me,

I didn’t want you to wind up hurt.

 

You told me you had yourself a good cry,

When you heard you broke my heart,

But it doesn’t hurt me any less

I couldn’t help but feel torn apart.

 

So I figured it’d be easier

To let you believe a lie,

To tell you that I was wrong

And make you turn senile.

 

It is always so much easier

To bear the pain on your own,

Of seeing someone you love hate you

For a blame you voluntarily have borne.

 

Because the other option on the table,

Is to let the truth see the light of day,

When loyalty is shown for where it lies,

It becomes a game you don’t want to play.