Rain-Drenched Autocracy

​In the recess between rains,

when there is dew,

the ones that lack the 

honesty of the droplets 

who unabashedly drench us,

and drown us in

their version of love.

Hard love,

slippery love;

and, over the course of

a torrential exuberance,

some cold love...

Frozen,

like the railings

of my balcony door,

the metallic reality in it
I tasted this day,

using its truth to

numb the index finger,

the one I use to point

at life, at others,

at misgivings and notions;

at my fallacies,

at those dusty books even...

Hardbound,

words flood their pages,

like how Delhi was this evening:

In shallow water,

but largely out of its depth,

it reeled... 

When it should've scripted songs,

and then harvested

the fruits of poetry,

the vague, distant yield, 

an honest free will

amidst autocracy.

-- Leslie

The Home

These strands I strum,

six strings from the fabric

woven with notes

that would, some day, make 

the symphony I'm yet to compose, grow;

a poem I am yet to write, sing;

the brew I am yet to drink, read;

yet to... yet to....

It stretches from my seat,

where I rest 

breathing heavily,

perhaps sighing,

with my back to the wall,

no, it's a pillar.

It ends on the ideology

that makes you a teacher now.

Strung and tuned, softly, 

it is ready for music;

the songs are stubborn, still;

and lightning throws a tantrum, again!

Then, in my peripheral vision 

the respite arrives, holds me firm,

the rain-kissed canopy in green,

and a life-drenched heart in red. 

-- Leslie 

Seek n Hide

​In my actual space I, 

carrying a flashlight, virtually,

stumble in darkness,

feel the edge of a work desk

for direction,

cut my hand on its

chiseled existence,

and call it poetry and justice.

It must be the apocalypse,

for it remains hidden,

the desk,

its writing instruments,

and its intent...

But, in time, maybe tomorrow,

when it starts to rain,

I may author the Bible.

I seek a virtue amongst

the long shadows on my desk, 

the sarcastic ink bottle

I hardly use,

and within the pile of

forgotten music notes,

I search for songs and sin

to find light, write the Psalms.

-- Leslie