THAT HAPPENED TO BE ‘LOVE’ ONCE..

My reflections on life – in quotes

“A type of love,
..free, selfless, committed,
..that happened to be ‘love’ once,
..now lost..
..in its postmodernist and individualist..
..definitions and interpretations.”


That Happened To Be Love Once


THAT HAPPENED TO BE ‘LOVE’ ONCE..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey –https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

THE LOVE WAS POSTMODERN

Like it had been,
The melodrama, that it was,
Was not so sweet
As it was made to be,
The love was postmodern,
And was discreet

The lines were blurred,
The tradeoffs made clear
With the hindsight scripted,
It then had some smear
The sophist saw it near,
Wrote the end of drama then
The existentialist was hit finally,
A soul was deeply violated when..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

CAN YOU PLEASE, EVER, IF?

Can you please, ever, if?
Be the one, you used to be,
Can you please, ever, if?
Be the one, you had to be,
I don’t believe in,
What it came to be,
Still believe in,
What it was to be,
Can you please, ever, if?
Think of,
How bad you made it to be,
Can you please, ever, if?
Think of,
How careless you have been,
Sometime,
The change is so misleading,
That, you don’t sense it,
Even if you are realizing,
You should know,
It never happens twice,
Didn’t you say no?
To not doing so it again,
Can you please, ever, if?
Care to listen to the person,
You have to be,
Can you please, ever, if?
Be the one, you had to be,
Can you please, ever, if?

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

IT IS NOW A PART OF ME

I would not say it didn’t affect
That would be unlike being me
I would not seek you to regret
That I never expected to be

You went,
Taking away a part of me
You left,
Splitting the Soul inside me
You disappeared,
Shaking my sense of ‘being

Still, you existed,
Why I don’t know
Yes, life would be different
If it were still for us
My thoughts aren’t mine
When it still comes to you

I’ll not say it doesn’t affect
That is unlike being me
Why so, but I don’t regret
Somehow, it is now a part of me

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

THE LATE NIGHT BEWILDERMENT

Gloomy and dark,
With,
That sudden spark,
Looking for,
That ‘something’,
In the flow of,
Delayed thoughts, and,
Absent moments,
When,
Not even,
The desperate urge,
Makes any sense,
When,
The sense,
Sucks the sensibility,
Yet again,
In that,
Late night bewilderment,
When,
I seek you,
Again,
From the dark,
For my gloom,
To get that spark,
To get the meaning,
Of that ‘something’
Yet again,
In that,
Late night bewilderment,
When sleep,
Becomes an insensitive ‘friend’
When solitude,
Comes not to comprehend,
That,
Why, I still, seek you
Again, yet again,
In that,
Late night bewilderment,
That,
Why, you still,
Delay my thoughts,
That,
Why, you still,
Make for my absent moments,
In the,
Late night bewilderments..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

ALL SO EXTREME YET ENTICINGLY WILDER

Absolute thoughts of the grey in extreme wilds

Complete with exonerated guilts of nowhere

It was all so discrete and yet all so everyday

It happened to be one big anthem of nothingness

Shut up and closed down, pleading and waiting

Reading, taking notes of absence, writing nothing

The groovy slice and the curvaceous hollow

What that was there, what that wasn’t to be there

The theatre of the theatrics, beyond the insanity

In harmony with absurdity, romancing the ghetto

All said and done and yet all remained undone

The slight whisker and its magnanimous bartender

Rendered dates to the history, days remained empty

That strange love of the wilderness and its craziness

It was all so grey and extreme yet enticingly wilder

The absolute thoughts of the grey in the extreme wilds

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

ALL SO EXTREME YET ENTICINGLY WILDER

Absolute thoughts of the grey in extreme wilds

Complete with exonerated guilts of nowhere

It was all so discrete and yet all so everyday

It happened to be one big anthem of nothingness

Shut up and closed down, pleading and waiting

Reading, taking notes of absence, writing nothing

The groovy slice and the curvaceous hollow

What that was there, what that wasn’t to be there

The theatre of the theatrics, beyond the insanity

In harmony with absurdity, romancing the ghetto

All said and done and yet all remained undone

The slight whisker and its magnanimous bartender

Rendered dates to the history, days remained empty

That strange love of the wilderness and its craziness

It was all so grey and extreme yet enticingly wilder

The absolute thoughts of the grey in the extreme wilds

November 20, 2012

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/