Sunday, September 09, 2007

So you were saying...

Despite the splits
in my personality
I am just one man.

But, I object.
Because, I am plural.
But, when I wish to be.

I know you will
bring a therapist
or a doctor
they will say,
or one of them will say,
it is a sickness.
Some wise one will say
it’s the pot I smoke.

No it is not a sickness
and I am no angel
but I don’t smoke pot.
Of course,
I smoke pot.

I have my own addictions
because I nurture these

Yes, I can go on
the way I wish to
and want to
with these habits.

I can change
or drop the habits
But why should I?

I don’t need you
I mean I need you
as much as you need me
but I don’t need you
because you are a habit
or an addiction
or a friend
or my companion

I need you
because I do.

I feel strange
about the conversations
we have
with each other
and with others

I feel pushed to the corner
like a serial cartoonist
who must deliver a punch
at the end
and in the middle
after those silly intervals
that the newsprint manager decides.

These silly digressions
can be avoided
but then,
What is the point of having
a conversation?

Ah so, where was I?
Where were we?

August 25, 2007


shobita said...

hmm. gambheer.

my poetry journal said...

gambheer is also a surname! :)

Anonymous said...

Hello from your secret admirer:-)

my poetry journal said...

i hope you admire the poetry

jerry said...

The end didn't work for me, but I like the way it drifted.