The Residue

FullSizeRender_Fotor.jpgCourtesy: Clicked using an iphone and edited on Fotor.

Time stopped by at my window declaring out loud,

said, I am now rich with a possession I would never own.

Was ideally professed to live, make love, laugh, cry and frown,

until Time decides to be my guest and sit on its cocky throne.

Dusk to dawn; over and over, I hosted a feast of my roasted skin,

pinned to the window, I was torched while Time devoured all.

Incapacitated in the vicious loop, hiding under the light so dim,

yet, the sun leached through my pores numbing every bawl.

I sat connecting every little bright dot straining through the mesh,

running through each vein satiated with freedom thirsty blood.

Embracing some moments of happiness for I was alive and fresh,

while ripped through some that made my deepest desires flood.

Ashen face, scaly skin, hollow bones, the feast had ended for Time,

As I lay down watching the moon light peep with a deep blue hue,

I started counting, one breath, two heartbeats, three stars and a last smile

and there was Time, laughing at the window till it choked over my residue.



Jenny Woods Photography

Photo Courtesy: Jenny Wood Photography

The orating shadows in the shades of peeking rays,

Aroma of wind kissed dust straining through tiny cracks.

She trembled a lot less with their familiar gaze,

embodying memories with slipping dews on a mossy rack.

Sitting in the corner of her canvas box,

she etched memories until the next dawn.

Her nails drenched in red wine, a malice for detox,

She was ecstatic rejoicing the truanting yawn.

Silhouettes of monsters she loved; turned knights,

who hauled her fugitive memories to eternity.

Stories of cherished days and conquered nights,

painted with every stroke her fingers scrubbed fiercely.

Fingers playing along each line she drew; with a grin,

the vacant canvas was now bathed in a mocking laughter.

As she touched every inch of her prickly skin,

her smile recited each story she etched in the water.

Echoes of Reflection

Her reflection stood amidst the crowd of rainbows passing by,

stuck on the opaque glass; was a mirage hopeful and shy.

Persistent with every crack and shimmer over the years,

was the echoes of pain and giggles that left a smear.

She followed the smear from her broken pieces left as crumbs,

only to get stung with cold that made her feet numb.

There stood a doorway for her to walk into the realm of fantasy,

On the threshold stood an identical soul far from reality.

Beyond the mirror existed an antithetical parallel world,

Of my reflection which was left with disparities that swirled.

Yet, just one touch moulded a portal with a coherent turn,

 To leave echoes of two different souls within a reflection of one.

Pop opens the bottle.

The excitement of finding strangers in the virtual world for now is limited to making friends or probably, so-called leisurely time people spend to explore their sexuality. It could also mean serving confessions on a plate sitting behind a screen feeling safe and secured from piercing judgemental eyes. Moreover, adds more control to how far you wish to take the rendezvous on a click of a helpless button. So many reasons to keep this cycle on-going right? So much so that it gradually becomes an addiction; irrespective of the reason one chooses. Although, there is more to this addiction than what a stereotyped mind might make you see.

So the justification begins with me getting lucky to find one such story of friendship/ love/ attraction/ or ‘we-are-just-friends’ between two individuals on either sides of the border. The experience of knowing their story is almost like walking on a beach one random lonely morning, only to find a bottle that has travelled miles in the ocean to deliver a message. Just when one thing I needed the most, was some company.

A bunch of rusty letters with mixed aroma of emotions. Great companion hun?!

So I popped open the bottle and this is what I read…A testimonial? Seriously?

Their story commences with, how they met on one bizarre social site flaunting a page for music lovers. One comments, another likes, One adds another on the list of ‘friends’, another accepts and the wheel has been spinning since. This is the story of Emma and Maddy (names are fictitious-They might end up getting stuck on a hot seat having to answer sickest questions from the SOCIETY. I would like to say I am kidding here!) living in two different countries symbolising history of hatred.

What Emma had to say about Maddy?:

“Maddy (Name changed) – aka Palihill, a name I hate, but sadly my friends call him that here, so I will go with that..

Palihil came into my life without any invitations, with a display picture of Ronaldo or some other hot ass footballer. In fact, I owe the start of our friendship to Mr. Ronaldo, whose hotness in the picture alluded me enough to think that the guy I was meeting on a shitty orkut community would be very hot…

Anyway, it was some Music Lovers community on Orkut, where we flirted, like a pathetic school girl and recently inducted college boy. The speed of the college boy in adding the silly school girl was amazing, but the school girl was so alluded by Mr. Ronaldo’s hotness, that she ignored any doubts about ‘why is this dude adding me after 2 comments’, and instead, ended up adding the college boy, later known as Palihil, ****, ****, *******. Maddy once told me his name meant ‘end of darkness’, and indeed end of darkness it was.. end of darkness to my sad little world, where Pakistan was the only country, and Indians were mean old creatures who had snatched our country from us and will forever perish in hell.

This all seems so silly now, how my beliefs and ideologies changed with time, but Palihil played a crucial role in making me realize that a world with indian hindus is not bad. More importantly, he made me realize, that people actually eat (and even enjoy) eating grass. vegetables, i.e. 😛

We raped Google Talk, we abused Yahoo Messenger, we demolished Orkut messaging, and finally,we even ended up spending 12 rs per call just because we were so consumed by each other. And whats even funny is, we ended up saying the infamous’ i love you’ within 2 weeks of our madness. Whats even more silly is that neither of us believed in the 3 words at that time, but we were soon to realize how meaningful those words will come out to be.

The perfectionist, clean freak, hygiene-ista, chawal, fashion crazy, brand concious Maddy, followed by the crazy, worried, always bemar, nerdy, and whiny Emma. Palihil used to miss his tests, and I used to feel a sadistic pleasure in him flunking his tests because of me.

The dialects being different stayed intact surprisingly, I stuck with my Tum, AAP, and he slipped away from his Aray, tera, mera …

He used to pick fights with his friends, and I used to feel immense satisfaction knowing, that this guy would always save my honour.

We never got into a fight, never. is a small word.. literally never. I cannot remember any instance of when we picked a fight.

After ages of our first I love you, he said it again. And this time we both knew it wasn’t jokes. I ran away, or backed out, or chickened out maybe, I dont remember, but I know for sure, I was like, what the fuck will we do now.

We still managed, even after 9 years, we have managed to live past those words, because we have to. because if we don’t we will end up losing each other, and having each other in our lives surpasses all needs.

My wish is to visit him at least once, just to see how much he has made out of himself, how much he has grown since we met. My wish is to see how good he actually is at playing Basketball. How well he actually can handle pints of beer. How much we can smoke up. I always assumed Maddy was great at expressing himself infront of everyone, but he isn’t. He would speak his heart out to me, but with others he would just go mute, act non-chalant and act like nothing affects him.

His dream girl, exists. She has a sexy body, with long hair, and amazing curves.. (she is not me, but would surely resemble me mu ha ha).. She would be madly in love with him, but she would have to pretend like she isn’t because otherwise, my palihill will not feel a sense of achievement.

He would go to the moon and back for me, if I had ever asked him (nicely), but I don’t, because then he would come back and ask for a sexy pic 😛

He would eat chicken with me every day.. but obviously will not tell his mom and dad.

I know testimonials are supposed to be an expression of how one rates another person on his attributes, but with Maddy, there is no rating, there is plain, ‘holy shit’. Beyond words, hence, my ranting.

I could go on months without speaking to him and can still talk one day without feeling any time lapse. His best traits, he loves me, is responsible, very concerned about his future, loves his family, and will turn out to be an amazing husband/parent.

His worst traits, he is a clean freak, will go mute when angry, will not show his anger, and will distance himself till the other person screams and demands a fight. He still will not fight.

I guess 15 minutes do not do justice to the 9 years we have spent, sometimes together, sometimes apart- but in essence, always connected at heart. wah wah. whattay line.

My friend tells me, I am the luckiest girl in the world. Because I am loved by so many people around me, and Maddy alone owns a majority shareholding in the Emma Inc. It will be sold off soon, but the pioneer, will always be, my palihil!”

What Maddy had to say about Emma hun?!

I am writing on a typewritier.sabdjhjgjhjjghjkdfhgjdfhgkjdhgkjdfhgkdgkghkgkdhgkdhkg dhkgdghkdhgkdgjkbvbdkjbdjkvdjdnxvbxvjfbjdgjdgsjvjs vnmxckjvsfjkgjhvjxfhbdngjkdbndjnbdnbkjdnbjkdnbjdnbjkcn m xkjbjdfghdnjdnbidjbkldjgb

First things first, i’ve known you too long to write a testimonial i guess. But here it goes. You  are  the  most  genuine  person  i’ve  ever  met. A friend whom i can talk anything about without being judged. Can literally throw away words to you without thinking twice. A perfect dresser, who somehow emerges out more and more beautiful as each year passes by. 9 years now. There were times we talked all night long, everyday. we laughed, cried and did what not. then came time we dint talk often, but one thing which both of us know that we are just a text/call away and it all seems so okay as we last talked just yesterday. I love you the most when you are on the happier side. And love you even more when you are not. One thing that i know is no matter what comes by, you’ll be there for life! and we’ll meet.

 Get  married  and  i  am  going  testify  you  to  whoever  your  guy  is  😀

 I  always  cherish  the  time  we’ve  spent  together,  and  the  time  we will  spend  ahead.  From  sleepless  chats  to  blurred  skype  calls.  The way  we  blamed  gtalk  and  yahoo  for  not  letting  us  talk.  We  come long  way.  And  there  is  more  to  go.

I still think about how it all started, and how destiny plays the cards. One comment on the music community, one random friend request, one ‘ainvayi’ wala friend request accepted and look what happened.

 Talking about what we ate to what we did each minute. studying together! exams! Waiting desperately for you to come online and say ‘hi’. Trying to figure out what you must busy at when you dint come online someday. And then there was that infatuation or love whatever we call it and it became difficult to even spend a day without talking. And then those plans to study abroad together which never worked. i wish it did!

Sometimes it feels like i know your friends more than i know mine. listened so much about them. and then myra became a sweetheart after  the  ‘Palihill’  fight

 ‘chawal’  –  never  forgetting that  word.”

And, I took a deep breath with an ear-to-ear smile; dropped the letter back in the bottle, put the cork back on as tight as I could and threw it back into the borderless sea…



A melody touching giant walls echoed a wrecked symphony,

Striking pointless chords with each fret of stretched pillars.

The roof high enough to linger clouds’ epiphany,

With corners beyond sight sneaking lights that won’t shimmer.

The hall seemed like a landscape with miles to walk,

Yet, the giant boundaries appeared to close in every moment.

Muscles strained looking for doors with every clink of the clock,

Found one with bread crumbs I left; to avoid an inescapable omen.

I crossed twisted broken corridors with countless dark rooms,

Stood one room that hung doors like they were walls.

I brisked my pace to have a quick peek careful not to swoon,

Ironically the rooms of doors felt fresh with no windows to top it all.

Several doors I skipped to count painted from red to brown,

Red seemed familiar to that of an empty hall cursed with inescapable wrath.

A sudden jolt of discernment haunted a thought,

Maybe the doors are here too looking for an unerring path.

“A Bitter Lonilness” copyright 2015, John J. Rigo, upcoming poetry book, “Passion Amidst Apathy”

Texas Poetry

"Does True Love take an Eternity to Find?" copyright 2014, John J. Rigo.  Picture courtesy of Google Image Search. “Does True Love take an Eternity to Find?” copyright 2014, John J. Rigo. Picture courtesy of Google Image Search.

I awoke this morning with a spirit of bitter lonilness upon me.

It was a chill of my heart I could not explain.

It was a reality check that came upon me.

A realization that the joys of my youth would never be recaptured again.

I would know the beauty of a kiss in youthful passion again.

That feeling of oneness with another that binds us to happiness.

Is it the creeping years that makes me feel such this day.

Hard as I try to reach back to other times when I felt such

I come up with hollow hands.

Let this day pass quickly.

I am afraid there will many more like this.

Still I pray and hope sparks of the past

will return again tomorrow.

To give me a chance at…

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Until the bubbles burst

No one knows how the touch on the skin feels.

Maybe, a cotton ball that rubbed way too many wounds,

Or a layer of film that stored too many memories;

A brief moment of exuberance that mocked many fools.

Blown into numerous crystals of selfless ardour,

that gleams with pulchritude enticing smile.

Locking all the tears leaving no trail to follow,

I fly within those bubbles that never crossed a mile.

Enough to peek through a whole firmament’s luminosity,

is one blow of hope, one blow of desire that once laid to rust.

Cherish it while it brings euphoria of incredible generosity,

For I would only shine to last until the bubbles burst…

Those 5 steps…


Picture Courtesy:

I hold my breath to walk two steps slow,

Trying to feel each soft touch of grass on my sole.

Keep my eyes shut to let my naive mind be alive,

Too scared to skip the dubious whip of life.

I tell myself laughing amusingly,

It will inevitably end someday knowingly.

Yet, I aim to exist and exist to feel,

Two more steps that might get pain with no heal.

Four more steps and the grass feels damp no more,

Feels like a stone cold floor pinching my core.

Clouded with thoughts that my eyes wish to forbid,

To seek a world of freedom that has my life on bid.

I take another step to see what looks like the sun,

Hoping its still shining like a ravishing gold bun.

And something struck a thump on my forehead so hard,

I shrunk my lids to get rid of the numbness jar.

I opened my eyes to a gleaming glass ball,

Gleaming gold but not as gold after all.

I live this dream over and over every night,

To make a hopeful living in a room with 5 steps of life.

The Uncountable


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Starts with the numbered reminders of night and day,
Each hour, each minute, each second in an acute way.
Faint green roots under the skin exposed to worn out years,
Constant thumps on the neck binding breaths until the end is near.
Awaiting life in vacant gaps between quivering fingers,
desperate clasping palms weaving a prayer as beavers.
A shield of bones and flesh scattered as pieces of a puzzle,
Absence of senseless jaws to make a bare stomach rumble.
Two tough long steps to the sack and longer leaps to the broken lock,
welcoming numerous itsy-bitsy visitors buzzing off the dock.
Counting each gulp with a tear, each hiccup screaming in silence,
rocking along a chair reeking inevitable greying old fragrance.
A companion within, whispers laughters from the past,
making survival worthy of moments that seemed to never last.
Memories of the unforgettable lost last count of the feeble,
Now, what remained to be counted was left uncountable.

Midnight Lovers


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He sat there sunk in a shining silver couch,
Nervous and silently whining a regret so dire.
Gulping down a goblet of red wine he vouched,
He sneaked few short gazes at her sleazy attire.

She embraced a wicked smile painted red,
A fake kiss or a hopeless lust, what’s on his mind?
He slowly walked on the creaking floor while he said,
Just talk the lust I am longing for since, I lost track of time.

He stroke her hair only to make his wedding ring glitter,
Yet he had his wallet full to keep the night going.
She knew he is an unusual but will never be usual; visitor,
As he burst his agony bubble with frequent sobbing.

Several dark days passed bringing in a ray of hope,
To be his’, to take all his agony, to be loved and be needed.
She felt him closer enough to leave no room for dope,
Just so he could make her a woman who is once completed.

This night, she looked beautiful in her favourite dress,
Naked face, hair done; just like on a date years ago.
She was nervous with her heart racing faster than her steps,
She was delighted that what exists now will forego.

Until, she received a note from her lover,
Thanking her for making him love again.
For now he is living his life with a wife, his real lover,
Their picture tucked in the loaded wallet, a gift to this dame.

The note crumpled in the fist, silently choked on her chest that hurt,
Pinned up their picture on the wall and the wallet lost under the bed cover.
Burning her skin yet again with red lipstick and a leather skirt,
She walked out with a smudged liner looking for another midnight lover…