Chaos and Kismet
Heartbeat or rainfall, will or whirlwind, kismet or chaos? Lovers claim kismet wed them, but more love means more chaos. ‘What’s the secret ingredient of your ghazals, Amit?’ Rhyme is the chaos I use to make kismet. She greets me with a meteor-strike Kiss on either cheek. Bonjour, chaos! The world is baking. Why fire clay in a kiln of form? Beauty seeds a nostalgic naked ache in kismet. Eros fires arrows, kismet, heart-seeking missiles That burn up fools for fuel. At the warhead’s core? Chaos. My sweet tooth hankers for whirlwind icing. Birthday, doomsday, Thursday: layercake kismet. Enough with catastrophe’s kissing cousin. If this is kismet, I am all for chaos. I plan the same mistake twice: Here, lightning! Love doesn’t have the wisdom to ignore kismet. The science of oops, the art of ricochet. Not every cause has an effect. Take chaos. The revolution looks like riots in the footage, But the heart will dance through fire to restore kismet. I’m sleep deprived. My mind is a wideawake chaos. A true Sufi waves as he waterskis Lake Chaos. One glance at the language, and Amit can’t control himself. Through rhyme’s schematic chaos, at least he can force kismet.
This poem feels like a lively back‑and‑forth between fate and chaos, and it plays with that tension in such a fun, clever way. I love how the poet uses rhyme almost like a tool to tame the disorder he’s talking about. The shifts between love, humor, and deeper reflections make the poem feel alive, like it’s constantly surprising you. The meteor‑strike kiss is such a vivid moment it captures how love can be both sweet and completely disruptive. “Birthday, doomsday, Thursday” really stuck with me; it shows how life mixes the ordinary with the dramatic without warning. There’s this sense that fate isn’t calm or gentle at all it’s messy, unpredictable, and sometimes absurd. The poem keeps circling back to the idea that chaos isn’t the enemy of destiny but part of how it forms. By the end, it feels like the speaker is choosing the wildness rather than resisting it. It’s witty, energetic, and unexpectedly heartfelt beneath all the wordplay.
“Why fire clay in a kiln of form?” 😭 🙌