acrostically,

Months are receding,

I’m still your biggest fan.

Carrying you on my shoulders, defeated

helps to keep me missing and conceding—

every wish is a beaten dying one.

Love is loosely based.

Lorn with yearn, and stubborn it’s true,

eagerly I’d relive each day with you.

Go from me

and keep what I lost.

Take your prize,

pour, till empty,

out this poor man’s food.

photo:http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2102/1875927186_263f46630b_b.jpg

sidewalks

We were runners.

North on 6^th.  West on 20^th.

Up and down the West Side Highway.

Across 14^th, we raced to the bad Goodburger.

But now it’s cold.  Inside, I run in circles.

I pretend that you ran away,

that I could never keep up.

But I was always faster, could run longer.

I breathed you in with the Fall.

I needed no music, just your footsteps

following and surrounding stereo of the close open air.

You were the beat keeping my pace.

You paced my heartbeat.  It felt right.

I could have kept running.

But you walked away from me.

We were married.

By you, symbolically.

Simply you called me husband.

Hot and sweaty after racing,

I offered to carry your hoodie.

You offered me your hand instead.

I miss my “wife”.

Honeydew, do you miss me too?

You walked away. 

Now this is a city of ruins.

All the places we were,

our Union, our Herald.

Our views:

your River Court across the Hudson,

my Brooklyn Heights across the East.

And all the places I go, the portmanteaus

spell out your name.

You were my South of Houston;

Broadway busy, your fashion mind.

You were my Triangle Below Canal;

artful youth, urban and wild.

Now you’re harder to get to

than Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass.

And all the songs I love—

you hijacked and I surrendered.

Each mile I run,

I hear you in my stride.

Sidewalks dance slow to my sad beating.

You were my music soul mate.

Now you’re my half-empty bed.

You were my running partner.

Now you’re my shortness of breath—

photo1:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/22/37192974_431a9d3331_o.jpg

photo2:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3630/3513243476_0f2b4390c6_o.jpg

golden brown

Beautiful long hair

tossing side to side

flowing in the breeze

warm and light.

Turning your chin

you might see me

crossing the street

my eyes turned away

embarrassed you’ll catch them

caught in a stare

I’m staring at your hair.

Drifting to the side

trying to pass you

and not touch you

have you notice

me watching.

Wind pushes me back

in your way

the narrow path

the grass that surrounds

feet wet and cold.

And now so frightened

so frustrated so determined

to be brave

but left failing

weak and wanting.

Fighting with myself

afraid to trip

and fall at your feet

I try to hang on.

Fighting against the changing winds

tossing your hair faster

pushing you along

past me

the moment passes

I lost again.

I turn and catch

a glimpse of your skirt

flowing in the breeze

warm and light

as you glide away

tossing your hair

side to side.

KARMA-SCHRAMA..

What is Karma?
A lot many have tried to interpret this answer for ages. And a lot of answers are probably based on ones wisdom and experience with life. Imagine life to be a vast Gurukul, where everyone is here to live some, learn some and maybe find themselves over the time – Disciples.
And there is something called Dharma which again is linked to Karma, stated in Bhagvat Gita. I have always been a little dumbfounded when the intellectual people chased the subject of Dharma-Karma mumbo-jumbo. I have come to know that life has a design for everybody. And it’s a strange to think that the universe is constantly in motion spaced out by time, concurring that whatever that has to happen eventually does happen and when it does we have to be ready. Life can catch you off guard as well, Give you happiness when you least expect it or bring upon doom. In these make or break situation, all one can do is live that moment completely as nothing lasts long. Again pointing to the ever constant motion of the universe.
So what drives these situations is a question way beyond our thinking that you can derive numerous conclusions on systematic, yet eccentric turn outs of the event life lines up for us. And there is Destiny, which has its own theory, and I have never got the hang of what it meant, ever... I have always been the go-getter types who always stuck to my beliefs stubbornly. So the word Destiny probably doesn’t exist in my dictionary. But strangely, the words Dharma and Karma are closely associated with Destiny. In a more scientific approach, Life is an Oscillator circuit, Evaporation-Condensation cycle, a computer algorithm which constantly gives you a feedback on what Input you feed. So I guess life’s exactly like that. Your action defines the outcomes and later the circumstances and so goes on the cycle.
My Parents always instilled in me that age old line derived from Bhagvat Gita : “ Karmanye Vaadikaraste, Maa phaleshu Kadachana.” (Do your duties unconditionally and never expect the fruit back)
So the real question is: Does Karma really come back? And personally I have believed in this feedback system strongly, some through personal experience and some through my kith and kins. So doing good becomes important and a necessary character in a person to attain peace and satisfaction. History and mythology have always glorified the Good over evil and its always like a Diehard action movies where the evil villain is vanquished and peace prevails!
Karma is one phase. And the other phase is the “coming back to you” phase. And there’s absolutely no sourness when the good times last. Its only when the bad times set in we tend to retort back and ask the question “why me?” It takes a lot more to stay put when the bad rains are here pouring down on you.. Its takes lots of courage, Positive thinking and faith to pull yourself through. No good deed goes waste. And no degree of mercy or forgiveness changes your karma. Your doings are your own and if any demons that roar out of them, its up to you to fight your own battles and suck the poison out of your life and turn into a better person altogether. If you‘re not one of them who wants to change the world out there, which is not a bad thing, trust me. Sometimes the change has to be from within to inspire those around you. You can do your share by smallest of gestures which make a huge difference in this universe. Just be good, work hard, stay compassionate, stay positive, value your family and most importantly respect life and not degrade it by undermining its potential to throw you over like a wave of tsunami. Most importantly, Smile! There’s something called life that will smile back at you as well and you don’t want to miss that do you?

Newton’s third law of Motion: Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

cynical

Search for the best and brightest

this rock can offer you car lots

of fishes with lemons mixed in.

And the tempest is merciless to the faithless.

Peruse each face

beyond the cover to the meaning

of the story each mouth tells.

Only the best looking, best sounding

personality should satisfy.

Believe there’s more

than nice eyes and good teeth.

In a face that can paint words

no language can entrap

hides a soul with lips

that can speak them fluently.

Be patient and resolve yourself

to find the perfect flame

is to have light in dark nights.

But night’s dark

brings a shadow allowing nothing to shine

and hearts sleep alone under covers.

Thoughtfulness keeps you from sleeping.

And a personality can’t warm you

with soft arms it doesn’t have.

Be content with what you are spared.

Fools chase after grand illusions

when all you should want

is one who’ll want you back.

photo1:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/121/303633288_448e219a9e_o.jpg

photo2:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3199/2886341578_a85790ec78_o.jpg

Birthday Wishes

Dearest Me,

Happy birthday, dearie, you're sixteen today. You can't tell people you're fifteen and three quarters anymore huh? Well, sixteen might not be a big number to you, we all know plenty humans live to sixty... But dearie, it's still a bigger number than fifteen.

I want you to be more responsible, I suppose that's not asking for too much? Be responsible for yourself, for me. You're the one in charge in your life, so you better not screw it, you can't restart if you make a wrong move. You have a big exam coming up next year, and then you have a big decision to make. You aren't gonna be lazy, are you? Kays, I won't nag, I'll leave that to your mom. ;p

I want you to say thank you more often. Everyday, there has to be something somewhere you've gotta be thankful for. Be it a random person who did something to make your day, or a random quote that made you think, or anything else. Smiles and love and thank you-s, they make the world go round. You can help too by spreading joy and love.

I want you to put in effort to take care of yourself. Eat the right food, sleep at the right time, drink plenty. Basically, I want you to take care. :)

I want you to be happy, to love, to be loved. I want you to share, to give, to receive. I want you to learn something new everyday, and I don't want you to forget anything learnt from yesterday. I want you to grow as you learn, to shine. I want you to try your best, make me proud. I want you to be well. Most of all, I want you to be you, okay?

Best wishes, I love you. A lot.

Hugs and Kisses,
Nic.

Also posted on http://thewarrantycard.blogspot.com/

her name

She leaves you a number

to call her sometime,

waves goodbye to go downstairs,

across the street

she’ll wait for a cab.

You want to stop her

from being another one-night stand,

another number in the trash,

another reason to want more.

So on cold feet you stand

to look at her with sober eyes,

reach out to hold her

and keep her while you can.

You want to speak

but your breath is foul,

fresh from last night’s last-call drink.

Your lips too tired, cracked and worn

from all the kisses they gave

and the bites they endured—

the blondes who thrilled,

the brunettes you broke.

But now she’s walking out the door,

out the door, out your life.

And its closing time again;

last chance to make your move

and make your plea. 

To take a risk,

to take her hand and change your life.

Change your heart and the loneliness

in the morning for something better,

something constant.

But change is so hard

terrifying, impossible.

And she’s gone down the stairs,

now she’s walking on the street.

And the number in your hand,

wrinkled and faded from your sweat,

will never call her back

when she steps into the cab.

photo1:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/122/311179437_bba371a019_o.jpg

photo2:http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2350/2157097328_7c95ea1f7e_o.jpg

Raindrops on my Window

All pretty, small and together
They laugh, they dance then wither
Singing a song, they mingle along
Disappearing back to where they belong

- The Raindrops on my Window

kimchee omelet

Oh ex-lover,

she won’t treat me anything anymore.

Oh jelly-thing, sweet-bean,

I’m mixing monikers,

tangling terms of.

Don’t blame it on alcohol,

but my sobered self-imposing

of self-absorbed sobriety.

I’m too sober, thinking.

I can’t hear what I’m writing.

I hear the flapping

of a paper tomato taped

to a wall in front of a fan.

I see her blanket in its red skin.

Her name rhymes with its stem: green.

Tomato, oregano,

origami, tatami.

Tokyo isn’t far from her Seoul.

Cities across ocean.

There’s a shark under my bed.

Cities across nation.

The egg came from the chicken, 

I read—in my New York Times.

Carl Sagan said

that making breakfast “from scratch,

you have to begin with the universe.”

A crack from Long Island to Tillamook Head.

Two people making breakfast on opposite ends.

I can’t cook eggs alone anymore.

I need her help to make a cheesy omelet.

Please tell her, I still love

her macaroni cheesiness.

And there’s koh-pee in my mug.

Inside joke, like “what’s kim-chee?”

It’s in my head, what Socrates said.

“The hottest love has the coldest end.”

If my heart is the omelet,

then she is kim-chee.

Spicy enough, I hope,

to stay warm a little longer.

I’ll sit at the table,

sipping water in my mug.

Kim-chee, Mianhamnida,

Mahal kita, Kamsahamnida.

photo:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3251/3146669395_0017d81686.jpg

Missing you, Angel

She came,
She smiled
I just saw her smiling.
I just saw her hair,
Prevented by a mere clip
From bringing upon an evening.

Her smile,
A Flamboyant spring on course
Washing away all lies
Her hair,
The dark dense blanket of cloud
Over my face and eyes.

I miss her,
I know she would miss me too
One thing that we both could not say
Will be said once, if true…