Lump of Flesh

20190419_192949

 

Lump of flesh,

Adhered to fabric that connects

And disconnects

Not like the skin, yet second skin.

 

Lump of flesh,

It moves apparently

And sometimes forgets

Like a killing notion, it breathes.

 

Lump of flesh,

Leaping into a pool of love.

And like a cliffhanger orgasm

Left suspended and detached,

Between reality and the alternate

Felt inside.

 

Lump of flesh,

Oh enough with this!

It perceives its joints, juices,

Holes and moles- and realises

It’s a piece meant for pawn

On a dead man’s table.

Sunshine

20190224_122747

 

I touch not, the skin of God.

Soul of the child my womb bore.

Eyes doorways to heaven,

Laughter orchestrating the universe.

Thoughts, hand in hand, ours,

The heart that learned music from mine.

A thousand times over let me be ill

And deprived.

A thousand times over let me fake a smile or

Take one.

To give you the hope,

To give you a home.

 

 

The Moon

img_20190122_115052_183

Hey Miss Moon

Miss Loony, Lonely, Marmy Moon.

You remind me tonight of a woman,

I once knew.

 

Tales of her beauty

Far, they flew.

Such sheen she lay on the sky,

Of a thousand lovers hearts.

 

Someday, one of them got

A little too close,

And all his eyes saw and lips knew

Were your pits and scars,

And dents and blues.

Like a sad hag tossed out of her hut

You sat in your gloom.

 

Maybe that is why you want to be alone.

To shine on your own.

Never to be touched,

Never to be owned.

Only to be gazed and gaped at by

Those who want to hold you,

Their own way.

 

To keep all your belongings

Large and small,

Silver and gray,

From going far and

Astray.

 

img_20190121_132025_623

 

You

img_20190119_145548_709

 

Choose a path

Even when stumbling through

The blinding darkness of a night in the jungle.

 

Choose a path

Even when swimming in

An ocean full of currents.

 

Choose a path

Even when walking through the garden maze

Of friends and families who forget you

In the throes of their celebrations.

 

Choose a path

Even when doubt appears more comfortable

Than your good old friend

Belief.

 

Choose a path

When riding through the dimming haze of a mysterious fog,

Or the furious rage of an uncalled sandstorm.

 

But always choose

That path,

That breaks all these barriers,

To come to You,

And only be Yours.

 

Choose a path

That Becomes Yours,

That Becomes

You.

 

 

Tulips

20190108_152746

The sun shined a brilliant blaze through my

Glass doors today,

Shifting this mind numbing daze built in the column of my living,

With aeons of flying shed dust

That refuse to sediment in the murky waters of time.

 

As if God stood as a guest in guise outside our humble hearth.

Tears of brilliance and reverence in my eyes.

Maybe there is some one I could love

Far and close, near and away.

 

It is winter with no blooms to cheer you

In my withering gardens,Sweetheart.

They are as gray and sullen

As this season after feasts and bygone goodbyes.

As I gave the last of my mirths to

Strangers of blood and not.

But there are songs of robins and sparrows and whatever of them,

Still care to sweeten my

Ember of a soul.

Singing in gratitude of nature and time

And better days to come by

Because ’tis a beautiful one.

Today.

 

Last night I withered through the storms with

A wayward bough hitting the windows and door,

Like a petrified orphan.

And I thought of those obstinate kisses

I once wished for as much as the

Embrace that would not let go off my

Ill, rebel of a being.

Maybe, before I move to a better loved home?

 

For now, I have, however, some rainbow tulips

In a vase waiting for a Lover’s gaze

To unfurl every petal and drench his

Thirst for youth, colour and all that can be used up and ruminated.

Like an abuse you spew out of your mouth in terrible heat

Of your heart.

 

Come if you may, to sit by the fire.

Tell me some stories of yours, ours, what ifs and

Those that can never be heard.

Hold my hand, as fragile as the skin above my veins.

Dont let it go off,

Not even in an absent thought.

Because I can

With all that I have.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vanishing Acts

ocean

 

I tremble at the thought of writing tonight,

As much as I trembled when I had to meet you

For the very first time.

Adorned by the night now,

Adorned with pearls then,

I hoped to see a queen in your eyes

Unmatched for the ones in all the heavens you sought for.

Or a simple lover forever, if not?

 

(For there is a sad ballad

I will carry with me to my grave tonight.)

 

You left me wordless,

And returned back like the escapist

You are.

Vanishing acts from the betrothed’s room

Into a one-time paramour’s heart.

You left me with the memory of a string of

Desirous notes,

I now have to comb and pluck out of falling fragments of reminisces

Frail as the dreams I once built.

Travelling through random air signals

Were the letters of our

Unmet lust.

 

And when your shadow almost slipped away again

From my vacant hearth,

I begged, I clung,

I loved, I stayed.

I whispered the voice of the woman you wanted,

Into your ears that were never there,

To taste.

Making love with that thin ghost of your

Sad, vapid voice,

While listening to the other ghost in my house

Chew.

Remaining sleepless through your sane remorses

And acidic hallucinations,

Like the faithful concubine

I hoped I would be.

For you, someday.

 

 

I dug into your tomb of decrepit again,

And there you are lying in the arms of yet another nymph

Time and time again.

With nothing to gain,

But the benefit of pain.

Oh what a joke of a rhyme

Your story has become, this time!

Rolling like a dog in the ecstasy of all that you thought would be yours.

And lulling back to sleep, with tears streaming from illusions of

Something called home.

An impossible dream, my love!

 

Oh constant inmate of wary pleasures!

If only you did not consider me worthy of

Ignorance marauded by your lifeless silence.

We could have lived in that cave between the rocks,

With only the ocean,

A third of our kind.

To know what it is to dismantle only in love

And all shapes of it,

Slowly,

Yet another perfect vanishing act,

To the ground that we fed our prayers to,

Once upon a time.

Like the shipwreck lying fathoms below us

Rusting and rotting with and into nothing

But the belly of the sea,

So sublime.

 

 

 

Today

20190105_132133

Today is a gift

That yesterday will

Never know of,

And tomorrow will always remember.

 

So choose to live it

With wisdom.

Because what is dead is gone already,

Taking with it even the embers of all

That we knew once to be our only own.

And what will come surely will bring with,

It offspring of joys and sorrow

We make love with

Today…

 

 

I have attempted to do something new today.

I was gifted this calligraphy set by my beloved from the gift shop at William

Wordsworth’s residence last year.

And of course, I needed to put it to some good use.

And hence this idea was born, although I must admit that my rookie struggle is quite

evident in the picture itself.

I shall try this more, if time and my mindset are kind enough to permit me to do so.

Hope you enjoy this piece, as much as I did creating it.

Merci beaucoup!

 

Hand in Hand.

20190101_150843

Do not be afraid of the dark, my love.

 

It is darkness that reveals the elusive light,

Wherever she may be.

It is darkness that hides all the gold and secrets

Of this world, in her chalice of bearing.

It is darkness where the Gods we worship,

Live a life of mystery.

 

It is darkness that makes a human out of a,

Zygote.

It is darkness that makes a tree out of a,

Seed.

It is darkness that makes a saint out of a,

Seeker.

It is darkness that makes a butterfly out of a,

Caterpillar.

It is darkness that makes a spring out of a,

Winter.

 

Maybe the moon, the object of night’s desire

Looks like a mere shadow of the ostentatious sun

Up above, when they meet

To smile at the show below.

But remember,

When the sun seeks water

To set a day,

It is the sea that seeks the moon

To celebrate the night.

 

Do not be afraid of the dark, my love.

Do not be afraid.

 

 

Time

IMG_20161219_201721

 

It is time to say goodbye to another

Time we welcomed with warmth and hope.

By remembering that glorious sunrise.

 

Time that stands testament to games of dice

Between truth and lies.

 

Time that kills us slowly like wine

That ages as patiently as us,

Nestled in her shrine.

 

Time,

You sodden column of death and dust

You hurt us with the old

As much as heal with the hope of something new.

 

Time,

She is that old lover

Who forgives but does not forget.

She chose to leave you

But remembers when you clawed her

Heart out with a mere whisper of another era.

 

All us babies will sing of our unpigmented loyalty to time

Tonight.

“Tomorrow will be better and happier”.

An cuss to her ears.

 

Well who am I not to abide,

I am as much a sinner as the other one beside.

So remember it like a gentle sad sigh.

Tomorrow is your friend

If you know she can be your foe

In fleeting beats hereby.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Divine Retribution

IMG_20180718_184746_247

What is ignorance

But another face of arrogance,

Wisely chosen to believe in

Bliss.

By her.

 

Cantankerous cackles of a misfit

Over air borne signals,

To the only blood minimally worthy

Of trustworthy.

 

Of pompous cries of valour in the battlefield, she spoke,

If the arrow of extra meat ever found her.

Her tired jowl and

Always sad scowl sighed,

She could endure

The poison her lover drank

And walk the darkness through blindness with

No sticks and pities required.

 

Will she be forgiven by the deities

Of her tribe?

Will she be laughed at by the children

Of tomorrow

With tales of jibe?

Forsaken by waves of mirthless merriment

Across the room,

She ruminates of all the galaxies to feast on

Had she loved a little more.

 

Will she have peace

In her silent thoughts

Of absolutely silent nothings.

Haunted by a heartburn of undigested concoctions

Of loss,remorse and musings now

So morose.

 

For life is a cycle of moments,

More so gray when living through them

But evermore greener when looking at them,

Had she held a palette of colours and a paintbrush of wit,

To imbue yellow into the stones of blue

And stroke a right red

As the mightiest of hues.