wisdom of a derelict.

with tiny bites of soft
the kitten, less ferocious
the lion roared
as she ascended
the spiraling wooden staircase

smelling the untasted
royalty shall dine
a stolen gulp
of air
most of all
but taken granted

a withered frosted lily
warmed by heat
of passionate love
bloomed, in its dirt
but is it also
a part of those broken souls
ask the seer
who much cannot hear
its those years
of listening upon
the secrets,
the wind whistled into
our ears
that he caught upon
and held in a closed fist
as not to let go

but the breeze
contoured the scars etched
in the most vulnerable
of his palm
teasingly,
smothered the pain
of yester years
nurtured hope in the moist
of the clenched hand
a make - do womb,
but the expectant,
its expectations
gave birth to impatience
and a fluttering butterfly
caught his attention
as he let go of all
that penance bestowed to the normal
a hand free of hope

now all was lost
like a creaking door
that was blown away in a hurricane
'so what'
he said,
sipping on to some gin,
a child, shall live
and i shall perish in his identity
cause they shall hold my idea
against me
as it takes form of the course of its nature.
so i shall smell the autumn bloom
wait back to discover
that they shall never.

ode to tea

And much bidding
done for tea
those leaves that
stain even water
and blends in its purity

Those leaves did not
intend to plague
the elixir of life
Ask the flame
she carries in her eyes

But the energy of
water to enter
tea was not how
it was supposed to be

Those embers now
colored it fresh
left it bereft
of its beauty
its own flesh

The priest said
accused,
of losing itself
Poor water only replied
as it dissolved
in it
some more brew

Is this sin so
wonderful
ask the virgin wife
of a soldier buried
under the earth's crest
making love upon
a lost beggar's chest

But why do we talk
one after one
like a bee wouldn't suck
honey out of pollen
it visited last Sunday
But still goes back
every night to its nest
And brings more golden sticky
and embalms the walls

Color me in your
honey
of sweet pain
bring it on
and pour it in
me,
said water, still
holding within itself
how it shall be
called tea
and after a visit from the bee
we call it tea with
honey.

As the crimson
swum across
circular orbs
of the brimming cup

Now thick liquor of honey
swept the blood
as it left in water
its own

Pray tell
who here is
at a loss?
"What crass?"
As he sipped
from his morning glass

A crystalline source
a pearl in a shell
the moistured womb
as a river flowed down hell

a lil boy trotted like a duck
bent in the direction of the even tide
cupped his hands and took some home

and mother of his
set fire on sticks
broiled her sons earnings
and smiled

and she threw in it
like the snooty witch
Macbeth feared
a few leaves of tea
and chanted a hymn
in thanks to him
about the meal she'd brewed

As the heavy downpour
of cats and dogs
tired of rain still enjoying the last
she quickly looked around
and waddled to the earthen pot
slid a few fingers
and remembered of honey her husband brought
also of times that he called her, while
he slid in and out of her
she quickly dismissed
of all that exists
that shan't

and then after a she ladled the brew
She looked up at her son
he smiled back, too

'Mommy', he purred against her leg
as she handed him some piping hot tea
i love it when you cook some tea

She laughed her empty stomach off
as she watched him slurp
the dainty cup
it was of silver
gifted on her wedding day
again she remembered the night
that went astray
And he circled the brims with his tongue
like mister had against her lip

she dismissed those thoughts again
How funny, tea reminded her
of all of her past, again and again

Parasite.

swallow.
let me swim in your system, combine with your being in carbon compounds biologically asphyxiating you.Reducing you.Then blow you into fragile bubbles of pure beauty gleaming like a flaming torch, a blush on the bride, the bubbles glimmer in basking light of the sun.
Assassinate me, wear me on your heart, I shall be your child,on your crotch, PenisChrist, your head, i shall fix nails into your flesh and penetrate your temples, you shall be owned.You shall make me your God.

Jump.
Dive.
Burn.
Ash.
Dirt.

Kill me.Before I steal you away.

Mexicano.

And you sit on the pot, with a whole lot of in your system.
Or so you delude yourself.
And your singing along to ‘I’m a liar and a thief’ and suddenly
Oh my god, there you go Trainspotting, you realize your system has decided to give you in and your constipated!!
So you sigh and some more in attempts to imitate a labor pain scene from a Hollywood movie with no success.
And you’re listening to Hurt, the piano version, remembering even why to remember this out of all instances.
And you realize your toes are getting cold and your boxers beckon you to bed, you think about all those instances when you meet random people and enjoy their company, and the i in you becomes I and God, god.
A rapid succession, a whirpool, the drain, the tumble.
The rush, like a heroin addict shot with adrenaline to pump his heart, to make him feel.
With blood, course hope, through his system.
Make love to the headstone at the graveyard and weep your eyes with bitterness.
A broken borderline schizo, or perfectly normal sadist.
And suddenly chimera clouds you.
You decide to get in touch with this one person who always intrigued you and you wanted to get to know their head.
But before you do that, you weigh the cons, he thinking about how easy he’s going to satiate his testosterone and get laid, or won’t he?
And we spend all the time to get to know each other that we forget to appreciate all the abilities that colors a particular person.
It’s like a forced monotony, everything like the corporate shamble that conveys to you in malls about how their food is the best.
And how the sight of the man who saw you in nature’s layers still soars your adrenaline and gives you a hot pink flush.
Being a woman, tired of lil dollies you dressed in lots of clothing and wanted to be that plastic menace, you try on a few more clothes every time before you leave home.
Phhbt, no I don’t do that, it’s the weird bimbos, I read in crossword, secretly about sex, while they’re out there doing it with their so called ‘Serious relationship’, and then when they see me puffing rings of air, quite with an aura of a pagan goddess being worshipped in scented perfumed fumes they look in awe and say that smoking is bad.
Yes, maybe I want to be 2 years old and just gargle lot of spit in and out and giggle maniacally while secretly I’m hatching a plan to take over all of you, Die Mother fucker Die.
And learn a, b,codeine,dextran,fluxotiene,glycerine,valium and feel ashamed. Its okay, right, I mean I know Aristotle, Bethoven, Caesar, Durga, yeah?
And so when was the last time you ate and wanted to only do that and nothing else?
The last time you wanted to write, and only wrote.
There are so many obstacles, delicious between all these. Play some trance, sing some blues.

A Spanish movie at odd hours with some one you know for 12 hours and have spent five hours with can be very productive, stimulating, pervertYOU, intellectually.
And again yes, I’ve given up on nicotine, yes?
Smoking Ban is good, I’m saving up for my next tattoo. Drinking also isn’t that much fun, I mean come on, where can you drink and feel good without roasted tobacco on your lip.
Su vaat karey che!!!



Techno, enjoy a chilled beer, alone, in a hip hop lounge, so what man I have headphones.
You pick a sub and some iced tea, balanced diet, a quick puff maybe, ahem.Check your cap, in place, to cover for not having showered, bad hair day blah. Run around in your narcotic stupor, get spun, some fun, flirt and then break a few hearts.
Write like you could make love with just as much fire. No sense of time, food, intoxicants, and you feel alive.
What do you do when all you’ve lived for is to paint and be painted with words.
Like a sinner, singer, murderer, lover, mother all claim their work to be art.
I hold on to its dynamism as well.
Till you find your art, your passion,

Cheers

Mamta

Its not anger.

your worst fucking nightmare.
what you escape from will follow you and swallow and you will be disgusted at what you have done.
your mercy at my will.my body in the hands of too many people.
tell me, its a choice you make.
your own breath begins to betray your entity, it stifles you like a psychotic killer on the roar, rape and bury you in cold mud.
across those moss beaten stones, you shall lay in a tangled mess of occult inscribed pages,sadly just a rotting partially decayed stench filled mass.
Go find her, plead and make love to her.
Before I hope you die.

Its not easy being tall

watch your step, you shall falter.
be floated upon a boat down to the other side,the darker.
eat a few embers of ash, its sweat and sweat of effort is called perspiration,pretend to be faultless.
Falter - Faultless
Pseudonyms.
Chant your secret words in husk smelling air dust.Confiscate your vices, cause its choking you to the end, dragging, shaking, you want to break free, just run and jump into cold water and bounce back to fall into the same haze of purple ink,no sniffs, too concentrated.Spread let indigo slither and spray some mily sparkles of ash.
The one that you tasted in the beginning.
Now bend.
Let me enter that arch in the building, being tall is not easy :(

Durga.

No no take a peek all the pervs, all the women can say vivid things.
But yes this is femininity aggression and lust for you.
This photoshoot took long and inspired something as well.
Here's to the sustainer, the fertility of the womb.

Durga.

paint on some war
on your lip
let eyes reek of agony
of apocalypse
and your son
ceases to bury his ego
at your lotus feet

So you shall crush him
Underneath
Cause a lotus grows in
murky waters,
swans surround which,
to increase
the beauty of dirt

The stench of rotting carcasses
Dizzied the ones mortal yet
As she stood on a needle
One toe holding her
All, no complain.
Pain she turned into
Focused frustration
And borrowed a boon each
From the ones she had gifted
Like a lesson to them
Of how to use them
With the destruction
A woman can bring about.
More subtle than
Beyond the feeling
Of begging for liberation.

She reached out to the inner
Coronary flesh
Embedded under locks
That made serpents look tame
A luscious flow
Of soft curls that
Tickled her brow
And bore her sweat in it
As she endured
Ripping apart
Her own self
One single long tear
Half undone
Symmetry was surprised.

And pulled out a memory
Where the creator had
Entrusted the secrets of
Burning the womb
And making vile lil ones
And bathe it in nectar for
The most obedient son.

As crimson red adorned
her forehead
sign of spouse
his life
your only excuse
from the life you wanted to live.
Pain of never being
Oozed and colored her disheveled
And she realized
Nine more days to go
As she stood on one toe
The needle tearing skin
Entering within

Poisoned now, in purest blood
it lost direction
and wanted to surrender
give up and flee, but
it’s a needle, not a sword.

Adorned in fates grandeur
Lips beckon
Eyes full of brimming
moisture, that holds in it
Clandestine of something
More than what meets the eye.
Take a dip in her tears
Each drop
More costly than all of pain
Bundled and thrown into a blackhole
Before you realize
Pleasure and its worth
After a much longer bout of pain

And she is the truth
In you.
Awaken her, gaze at
That radiance
Like a dip in spiced
aroma tea, all four chakras
under light
surfacing on your sleeve
wear, your heart there.
And white light will blind thee.

And speak to the tree
Its leaves each tell a different story
Atop the last branch that touches heaven
Shall you find, Nirvana, someone’s
Backdoor leads to illusion and some call it fantasy.
But look into the visitors eye
He will tell of snippets lost in time
Of grazing an endless path
The weariness that sets in
Once you know the path wont take you
To your home.

And as pearly drops of juice
Honeysweet nectar of a warriors exile
Spill into your water pot
And there you thank her,
For eternally blessed shrine
That you laid
On the strongest muscles across
Your stomach.

Wild animals roamed
Around her, in a lament
That she didn’t feel the need
To call upon them,

A broken wing of garlic
Plopped in a hot brewing soup
The whiff of this delicacy
With a pinch of melancholy
Spread,
And all those who ate religion
Never reached spirituality.
a bowl full of reality,

offerings not sympathy

Ps:Darn its incomplete and if you had the patience to go through that, I'm honored.

No, for godsake, it aint soft porn.

The changes were just an effort from my side to prove I am not always under influence,intoxicated,blah.
I dont even know why I need to justify.
Well lets just say Im tired.
Exhausted.
And I am miserably failing in health.

Maybe next, we see, each other would be on a stormy night on the outskirts of town in a small clearing of blooming tamed flowers, nannied by a wheel chaired girl, brown locks dark piercing eyes et all.
Tattooed and dredded, eyebrows shaved off?
Coughing like a midnight howl, of a broken cloud,thundering.

Just seventeen.Oh damn.
Slaughtered, burnt, faded.
Flung,ignored,forced,used.
Lost.

I write stories, not my own though.
So stop assuming I am the dying bride, sweating in agony of being in the dross of love made last.

I could be your dirt.
I could be your fire.
Anything you please, mould me.
And two nights apart you won't see me anymore.
Cause I shall be gone, dragged by those visions of myriad colors, tucked in her bosom for protection from all.
A womb more protected that the womb itself.
Embedded.

So, the point is I am not propagating soft porn.
Though Id love to shoot for a photographer who needs a muse.

dirt

In a subtle blink
Flashes of misery
Pass through you,
As you see her cover it all up
With just as much as toilet paper
As you’d use when you didn’t
Use the pot.

Meager were her needs
But she wanted more
Of you, only thing she shouldn’t
Have wanted.

Plant a lily
It ceases to grow
Build a cement wall
And the rain water pushes its crevices
And seeps in through
Those vary, very little
Joints in the wall.
Like us.
But it gets collected
In the earthen urn
That was set, in a flourish
Of the smart housewives
Experience in living in that dingy hut,
But who cares, says she
You seemed to have enough place in
Your head for her.
Show it sometimes.

I can yodel in pain
Just to make it a fancy lament
If only you could hear it
Those few miles away,
Not in distance, mind you.
But in wrapped up layers
Inside the brain
That separate us, now.

And I try to write pain
In lengthy paragraphs
While you borrow letters
And decorate them in your head
Still wanting to form a sentence.

And I sleep in thrifty yawns
Curling up in fetal,
Fatal, before I bid my last good bye.

Last,
Because then,
I will start over again.
Trying to win you over.
Like a cherry dipped in chocolate
Till the last bite.
I will eat all of you.
Gorge all the dirt in you.

And set you free.
all your bad caged inside of me.

Purple Dreams

A pebble plopped
into the stagnant
ripples of yawns
drawn across your painted face

The flute hums
a moronic melody
of silent slumber
seated on your lip

And those eyelashes reek
the purple dust
of a fairy that curled
upon your brow
left as a token

And aftertaste of
a satiated meal
that binds you in immortal sleep

Tied in polythene curves
rupture
tiny needles
that pierce
satin skin

And she will still
lay enveloped
in that drunken stupor
amidst the bosom
where petals cover her
away from veracity

And as she stretched in
her cocoon that
so wrapped her
it lengthened
and split
and air bubbles gushed
inside
to stifle her
with reality

And she twisted and turned
And engulfed more of their impurity
with every breath
unknowingly
and a little of her soul
maimed,
each time

The sparks of mortality
perished inside her

And froze the timeless moments
And her preserved sanity

And one last whiff
And that final
chord of the music note
welcomed her across Lethe

As the ferryman
carried her
in her tattered cocoon
across to the other side

She lived a dream
and she will perish in one

Conquering the corporeal

She still remained
Incomplete in her self
of the consequences
and of all the reality
she could not live

That she choose not to.

Dedicated To myself.

I might learn to be selfish.I will.Lets hope.

Dirty You

In little steps of a waddling duck
she treads the thorns
on you

a rose bud
plucked
torn apart

she walks in the wilderness
of an unknown path

and you tie her
and your breath stinks
she scuffles
and screams

gag her
and pat her to sleep
the little one
she purrs

stroke her
oh no
she hates you
you lust her

pluck her petals
and she sobs
in bouts of waterfall

the flow of a river
maimed
she hides in shadows
in petty disdain

in full bloomed spring
she lies bereft
touch her
she shrivels
in knots of pain

blood bonds
remain, now
fully messed

as she climbs the waterfall
of death

and a year
after years
still hallucinates
she, tears
her fully clothed stature
under the water that
bestowed upon her the shower

in naked spasms
of blind thought
she blames herself
for your want

and cursed you shall lie
and childless
till she disappears
in your ugliness

Shred her
with kisses of perverted joy
and she stares at you
as she bores into your conscience

and burns you down
she touches you back
and plucks you out
of the inhuman stack

she dusts you off
again
and again

she spills you in the muck
and drinks raindrops
to satiate hate

but open her up
she lay tight
suffocate her in grips
and she drowns

again on the cliff
she finds
coursing through solitude
a jump, withheld
now done

in gasping heights
she rises
and there she touches perdition
and in flames
her feathers lay
broken and disheveled

play, repeat
reap
sin
touch skin

and bubbles engulf you
and strangle
those thoughts
that the dirty pawns of your mind played

Child Abuse, should have a severe punishment.

Dedicated to all those who feel the same.

The Puppet

The string etched marks
on her skin
as they bore deeper into
her flesh
like a shooting star
in all its brilliance
inside of her womb
a gazillion bursting
sparks of flame

He pulled the reins
on her
and gave her the stature she deserved
a bending puppet
brought to life
with a workmanship so fine
she deceived all into
believing she was of their kind

Windswept ruins
with cotton balls covered
shafts of clay that bound her joints
from that blessed deserted area
rubbed magic onto her
and aglow
a reeking lava
overflow from the volcano

She was his muse
and she would him, please
As he bid her
through vibes of occult
and voodoo spun in miraculous cure

He bowed down
as she arose from the purifying
pyre of the destructed

And lay weak
as he blew life of mortals
into her coursing blood
and like a rebel
her choler repelled what was
not in her deserving

As she grew inside of her
what he bestowed
a life
to a puppet
swiveling in misty hues
of dark shades
beneath that pretty skin

but he faded
as he gave away
and his blood curdled
as the purity of it
was now hers

And in fear that he might burn out
she tore him right through the middle
And embedded in him herself

And she sparkled a twinkle
a blaze
like crackling fire
he stood up again

And that was them together now
in a body one
that wrapped the existence of its juxtaposed

Tuneful Void.

Pull the strings
the guitar speaks
in riffs of wincing pain
and in curved glances
poisons your mind
with aftertaste of want

slither fingers over the whites
on my piano
and glide the satin touch of your lips
with a devouring passion
over mine, mouth organ
in sparkling orgasms of black
and tiny leaps of slender
curves of the drum stick
on the cymbals
and make me rhythmically
gasp in
the wires that bind the frets
of doubt in my head
and the virgin skips
a ten fold sheen of a uni colored rainbow
to the movement of a humming bird
making love to its better half
defying gravity of lust
as he makes love
to his vocals cords
and serenades her
in baby talk
as she rains doubts of separation
and they grow into the destiny of Adams future.

Claustrophobic symphony
in the note perfect song
she planted misery
as Pandora blew up
a volcano that destroyed Pompeii.

And then again
the composition
demands him to hurt his fingers
and blood trickles
the brow of his finger
on the finesse of the string
that adorns the feminity
of his instrument of vent

And still he gave all
as loyal as Romeo was
he, to his guitar

But he bled
and winced
in painful delight
as the maiden withdrew
her hand of fate

And so he sang
and sang tonight
till howls of his pain
echoed beneath the distant moon
and the dogs of the night
accompanied his crisp melody
as they made music of their kind

-

Ahem, the titles dedicated to shippy xD

:P

\NineInchNails/

Cruising the contours of my bodice
like a fleet in search of roaring oceans

Into the richer plumes
of the peacocks feather
diamond and bleeding blue
break open and flow
the crimson
from its sinew

Hush my baby
Don’t you cry

You can feed on my dead remnants
or broken dreams
that I decorate with my flaming insanity

The pearls of white
sink into the deep cut
smeared by red juices
that your pink lip bled
lead , of course
by a pest of locusts
that my mind hurled at you
in dried tears
that pricked the throat

And a bout of cough
like rapid diseased mice
would bring it all down
similar as to when
Nero played his fiddle
as inflamed his city lay.

As those honey suckled
bees broke away
into your meat
much coveted
a threat before
you became bait

And the sun melted
into frost bitten
tentacles from my crown
of beating hunted hearts
that were shot
speared and minced

But it was my love
that so much
for you bled

Empty bottles
whistle melody
and I gather
my all
to give to you

A quarter conscience
severely beaten
and useless
But it will still be yours
only to you belong.

You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

To you.

<3

The OutBurst Of Black

The pigeon shed
Unwanted wings and flew away
To the horizon
Painted pure white
That glinted the suns rays
Into a oily grease
That satin seemed less smooth

As the sea washed the horizon
The deeper blues and suns crimson hues
Turning an all pitch black
She arose
Dripping water smothering her skin
As she nodded
And drops of water slid the spiraling curls
And drenched her wet shoulders
And adorned the feminity of her being
As it coursed her cleavage and slipped
Into her voluptuousness

The black pitched
With her daze
Of divine insanity
Skinned in plumes of red feathers
She walked on high heels
And tip toed mother earth

And all of the ones
She tread on
Were aroused at the touch of her
And endowed they became
With magic
Not the one we don’t know
And feel
But her magic
She rubbed against em

And now out of mist and dew
Burst purple crystals
And circled the andromeda
As it gathered radiance
Borrowed from turquoise emeralds

And her wings unfolded
As she withdrew from her façade
And there she met black

And embedded in the black
Again, now
Purple shone through the light
Glistening crystals of candy floss
Gleamed pink rays onto her face
And she sang the lovers song
And wiped tears on his hate
Like a sand stone carving faith

Down below
As the flames danced
To the tune of her clinking pearls
She tore the necklace
And rolled there beside her
All of them undone
The clasp
Scarred the sole of her foot
And she sang
This time the continuity of the others end

<3

To Me.

Hide and Seek

Cruising through sentences
punctuating life.
The sun flippantly waves
through the canopy of leaves
like the rapid succession
of turning pages.

Dollops of clouds
scooped in upturned conifers
topped by nests of
humming birds that flitter
through
in a dizzy haze of random alphabets.

Gurgling sounds beneath
those south seas of hate
arose bubbles that danced
alongside her ear
and frittered in circles
meeting the dark engulfing locks
that tantalized men in their sleep.

The cuckoo roared a different tune
and the lion purred
as she walked dry leaves
and step by step
his kisses haunting her.

She jumped into the endless
off the cliff
into inviting deeper emerald seas
As the ruby on her neck matched the blood splattered
before she could touch the ground
for ravens and birds of prey
pecked her as she fell
as she gave away.

Star Gazing

7June
Dedicated to you daddy, on the eve of your mothers 43rd death anniversary.
I think most times if not less, loneliness that was then seems comforting now.



Rearranging stars to outline ,
your sheen
the lil boy grew.

Still young he gazes
year after year
at those twinkling
remnants of you.

Trying to rid the cobwebs
clouding in his head.

Plucking em' memories
long gone,
buried somewhere down,
in suppressed giggles
he hides himself in the
umbra of the silhouettes of
bound shadows;
that are with the
breeze of time.

He tries counting edges
in circles
as he scrapes
faint memories of you,
from his eyes.

The lil boy tries hard,
even now,
being much adverse to lil
to kill the hot tears
in his throat and to
be a man.

But how can he help it?
if, you wander
out of others sight
and wrap him up
in the scent of betel nuts
and the aroma of your washed hair.

Leaving him to break into
tremors of holy sweat
as you sing to him,
divine melody
of your heavenly abode

Much comforted in his lonesomeness
afraid that you'd go away
if he finds someone else.

He clings onto nothingness
craving for brevity.

He would lie in your ash
if the cruel wind didn't
love it more.

So, he still gazes
at the two million year old stars,
looking for a closed chapter
of his life.

Obfuscate.

Indifference.

Shut your eyes.
Open them.

See you too many times?
Blink, and shake head.
Ah.

I'm not different.
I'm not love.
I'm not pain.
I'm a lil bondaged polar bear with a really cute tail.And I will be gone.
Maybe, I have.

Drug me In syringes

Singing ravenous melodies
Content that she could put to song
Her misery

Across ten fold oceans
Sailing in alternative octaves
Of songs conjured in darkness
Beneath the dome of insects
Mating in loud moans
Buzzing along
Bzzzzz

He carved emptiness in the lair
As lions roared royally

Hyenas swiveled crude tools
And aimed it at the pretty back
Of the much ugly face
That wasted was
By the plague attack

There again she lay stricken
Choler full
In a colorful collar dress
Weaved by uprooted wings
That reflected emotion
In dual tones of light

Anthony as was
Stripped by Miss Cleopatra the fifth
Right then losing his respect
Of being calculative and
More like a queen on a chess board
Who has no more than to protect her beloved?
Threw his sword at the arousal
Of his curd grinding organ

Spit spit on him
And what would her fault be?
The one who sang bitter melodies?

She was raped
Merely, now society’s bait
Maybe paying cause she was Cleopatra in her last fate
Now losing faith

Hah
Blind
Eyes ripped apart
Nerves bloody ended dangling
Hallelujah
There we are yet bound by karma
So do good now.
Haha
Find good
Give me ecstasy
Colorful pills
Shut Up.
I will do my enemy.
Ride dragons till Aunt Hazel calls me back
To fuck opiates.

Tooti Frooti

I could dance in little letters of
curved alphabets
that look upon
your countenance
and make words that suffice
my eagerness to sway in your arms.

I could picture you
in tofu cubes
or him that holds me
for you.

But I wouldn't dare
to do, because
then I'd shred him to pieces
in need of wanting more of you.
: O

I could wait
some more,
and purchase time
with diamonds adorning
my sublime?

But then would that make me a whore,
the one who gave up
just to touch and give away
just so that she could
hear your voice.

In timid whispers
trying to hide the congregation
of the ebb and tide of her bosom
that splashes like a wave
when you go away.
Only momentarily,
till again they knock on her womanliness
As she weaves thick blankets of silken dreams.

And covers you under them
giggling profusely
in your chest hair
tickling her nostrils
while you hold her brevity and
all of that in the cup of your palm.

And then she sneezes silver dust
and cuckoos fly out of her mouth
silly me!

Then she grew thorns
and stood there pretty.
A rose in the ruins
serenaded by the storm.

An Addicts Story

This is a small illusion that graces a few. A man devoid of responsibility who slowly slips into smoking hash, eventually getting addicted to it. Savours the taste of The extravagance of Lord Shiva. In a small meeting with himself. The man discovers the conflict of divinity and mortality. Sometimes a mendicant who loses sense of worldly responsibilities is often praised for the effort. Whereas an addict is looked down upon and cursed for wanting the same state of Nirvana that the Mendicant craves for.
Brahmand = Universe
JataDhari = The one with matted hair
Rudraksh = A stone with blessed qualities
Sometimes an introduction ruins the readers appeal of the painting his brain paints. This will hopefully not do the same.

Formless wild smelling smoke
Dance around your halo
Adorning the masculinity of your blue skin
Locks spill in watery dross of the soul
Across those warm arms that engulf the brahmand

Sip my subtle poisons
O ‘ Jatadhari, lock me in your third gaze
Of sheer destruction.

In a coil of scoffing serpents,
You lay, cross legged
As they slide to make
A path for you.

As the perditions of the past
Sway in your honor,
At your bidding of doom

Anklets adorn your feet
Music of which bind
Me in womanly stupor

Awakening flames of
Frictional dust that gather
To bring upon a storm of death
That circle your feet
To stir calamity in mortality

The aura of the dull rudraksh
A tenfold blinding ray of
Psychedelic pink and crimson hues
Beckon, as your offerings we gather

As you raise spirits of the dead
In the power that burst through
The pearly drops of sweat
That dribbles down, due to immortal trance.

The moon contributes to your
Addictive daze.
As shades of grey intensify
The passions of scarlet red.

As numbness courses through the veins
They are silenced in slumber
Blazing through the body
In rushes of divine heat
I sway to symphony of
The swell and fall of
Your deep breath.

They engulf you in tides
Of bright white light
Waves of crystal blue
Lash your body like sprays
Of holy water from the Ganges.

As he ascents the dragons peak
Where blizzards are mocked by soft
The more gentle snow.

He strides right through you
Bursting into plumes of rich color
Leaving you ice cold from within
But a lot less incomplete.

The phoenix ash
Gathers in a small storm
To be born again
As he walked by them

The man burnt his finger
As the stubs singed his skin
I’m an atheist whispered the man to himself.
Pushing thoughts away.

Har Har Mahadev
He said
Puffing hashish
As he slipped back into the spell.

Infertile Widow.

Curl up in those shadows
Walk along the black
Engulfed in its tenacity
Like church bells resonate

Hiding midst shadows,
Where light penetrates
Blossoming lil serpent
Entwines the friars fate.

The God
Embraces the illusionary lair
In hallows of dwindling faith
She walks in
within, writhing in pain.

Dead love now rotting
In the grave of promise,
She strings pearls of hate
To adorn his neck.

The pearls now throttle
Growing tentacles of poison
Leaving lines of misery on his neck
That etched he, had
In her palm at natal
She now gives it back.

Bereft of any
Token to leave behind,
She has nothing to live for
Except her own time.

No naïve chuckles
To fuss upon
Just his hollow laugh
And a few dusty cobwebs
On their betrothed snaps.

Dig deeper into moist clay
sculpt my thoughts,
they seem astray.

Bite the fleeting essence
tis not a wandering butterfly song?
Pluck out her colorful wings.
Jerk my flight and
glue the wings onto me.

There she will lie
in those sheets of time.
Beneath layers of lost sheen
inflaming such soft aroma
the candle light flickers
dancing,teasing
Much to her dismay.

Dim now,
like emptiness of an infertile widow.
The flame lost its way.
Gave away to its momentary lover.
The shrewd blowing wind of promise.
Burnt her out.

She looked around and realised
Her reflection had run away.
Hold on,she ran behind it.
And reached the pond.
Where she saw it dive.
Splashing,bidding to her a mysterious good bye.

-

Farewell my friend.
Ive waited long enough, done my bit.
I just wish you'd have been there.

Meander.

Drape me in sin
Beneath the cloak of stale air
Of the dingy ransack
Of the crème in the sheets
Steal me some reality.
I’ve had enough of possibility
To want to live in the imprints of my gloss on your lips,
The imprint of your foot on my neat
Don’t slide
Its way to conniving of you to leave
Just take one more sip of me
Just take one more sip of me.

Heart Shaped Box

Its like Ive been tailored to adorn the aroma of your manliness.
Plucked out of blossoms, much withering.
Wilted,you painted me black and let me bloom into purple.
As we break into tiny orgasmic cravings.And you rub clay onto my metal.
And mold brittle me.I break again into your palm.Just so that I can be held again.

Breaking Me.

Poor baby.
Victim of child abuse.At the age of 7.
Repeat : at 13.
Fiction: A waif who lived on red ribbon(aids) donation camps.
And all that fight to save that then.
She suddenly lost it to alcohol influence,now.
Even though they claimed she had more common sense.


The glass pieces bent
To be ashamed before
To crawl, she learnt.

Her mind she spent.
To pay them, her bodies rent.

Numbed her mouth
And then her vein
To suck his big cock
And take his pain.

But no
She blew the wind instead
And afloat over pearls
And on red ribbon donations she fed.

He pulled her
To meet the wall
Head, bang on.
Cause she wouldn’t be what he said.

Then a drizzle of sorrow
As the uncle of years before
On that sacred morrow
Burnt her temple
Of scared reserve.
Ashes she gathered
But at that time
To offer a flower
She had none.

And then full blossom
Like spring
Bursting in color and youthful play
She felt her past creep in, with him today.

The spiders collected honey
And the bees spun webs
A cocoon was not enough
To save her
From his nasty breath.


She sunk in air
And borrowed a halo
Broken but still one of its kind
Jaded and engraved in
Sweet time.

Then she stopped her footsteps
And asked him up there
If it was his temple
She took care.
Why wouldn’t those men
Leave their shoes behind?
Why would they burn her wings
And then teach her to fly.

He said, learn
She did.
But to join,
She learnt to join them in their bed.

She closed her eyes
And mocked at him above
Look I shall learn
Holding just onto tomorrow tender.
She knitted winter into a sweater
To wear in summer and
She beat the weather.

But tomorrow, her tomorrow
Him.
Burnt and irrepressive.
Tore her sweater
And spat on it.

And buried her, in her past.
Alone to dig,
Her graveyard
Way before she was due.
It was to prepare her for
What he saw coming,
Now now.

Migrating lil bird he was.
She was the ugly crow.
Used, betrayed.
Drowning in sorrow.


-

She will break it to the world.And she will hold her head up high and walk,after all its no fault of hers.
She will stand and stand tall.Bah.
Whatever.
With some help she will talk about it.
And he will help.Cause the others miserably failed to even see through the situation.
Thanks a lot for understanding and just being fucking there.
Sometimes, that makes a whole lot of difference.

Thanks.
Vikram.
Anushka.
Farzeen.
Arjun.(verymuch)

Thankyou.

iSuck.

There against the wall
Shimmering teeth,
Bite the flight of memories.

Tomorrow you can shiver
In the depths of today
Lets drown together
As you string the words of disdain.

Lilies of faith you plant
Not knowing much about
Those lil roaring engines.

Cut into cubes of bleeding moonlight
You shimmer through again in purple rain.

Hiding within summer shades
Of bottled emotions
In moth balls.
I sleep beside the naked night
Much bereft of touch

In tiny glass vials
Lie my savings
Caught between tiny
Nothingness of cravings.

Flicking moist pencil shavings
And crushing them to dust.
Hoping they’d turn
To the myriad colors of lust.

The sun took away
A part of you
But you still shine for me at night
Bright and most
At mid night

-

Ummpf.

I have been asked why I write love poems.Why does a woman think about falling in love?

Beauty The Beast.

Beside supple shadows of grey
I see it quiver like the dryness of a leaf
Something time took away
Almost engraved.

Do you see,
Those surly moments
Gone by..
Like wind through the falling brisk bubble
Failing to enhance its mortality

If poised and poisoned was a duty
Its mistress would step aside
For thee.

Submissing those pearls of smooth thinking
Like the curl of your most yielding lip
Not once they utter
How bereft, living seems to have left innit?

Along lines of clairvoyance
Almost frozen dirt
on the rusting lil brain
Forgotten to be put to thought.

Imitating beauty midst thunderous point
Pitiful state
Very less, void and un – divine.

Dirty games
You,
Play the youth.
Pretty, poised and poisoned through time.

Cursed you shall be for beauty is what you choose to keep.

-

He sang songs of her wafting sensuality.
Of her coated layers of undoubted and praiseworthy benevolence
and her reflection of timeless beauty.
Sitting pretty was her best.
Till he saw beyond that in someone else.

Like a wandering thought,
Plucked out of perdition
Uprooted,
Not maimed.

She ran around in circles,
Bare bodied.
With mind full of
Resonating sound.

Wasted not wanting
She lied through
Aching teeth
Scratching her wounds
To feel damp blood
Paint her remnants.

Hiding midst shadows
Wired in his manliness
She colored shades
Of grey
To match happiness

But suddenly
It was not what she wanted.
The wandering thought
Slowly gone astray.

-

Call it nonchalance if you please.
She just tied open her hair.
Let it flow.
And ran into herself, at the break of dawn.
She forgot who she was.
Now she will find herself.
This time, she'll do it all alone.

*sigh*

Pluck pink petals
And spread the pollen
Like those lil one’s
Tears that were swallowed

He sat across closed eyes
And gazed into them
As she tried lying
While he wrung dirty clothes

There they stood
And broke his dreams
He left them then
In a corner
And played with hate
And those translucent drops
Didn’t hide his fear
She looked through
What he hid, tonight
Year after year

Drowning midst fire
Quite a harlot to life
He had a sudden sure
A strong man’s gait

Robbed in his days of innocent ways
She lent him some
While he taught her ways
To live and dream
With him tonight,
Yes after the wait
It seemed very right

Of sturdy fiber he was weaved
She melt this, his only creed

They played along
With fireflies
Trying to borrow a little
Of the stupid kid’s cry?

Of pain she talked
The one he bathed in
Never felt much crimson
Not yet within?

She plucked her hair
And let his grow
So that they’d have something to do?

A part of bread
He bit and spat
To taste it for her
To see if she would bear?

Like the bread,
Life came to them.

He still would run the race ahead
So she could never be lost to the dead.

The dead desires.
Those dead dreams?

Worse it was
Because they were killed
With such simple ease.

Like steel was bent
He let his body be spent
Carving melancholy
She shrouded the scars
They spent love more than
They tried to afford?

Toys she made of paper for him
And hid them lest they be ripped apart

------------------

To him that makes me want to drown
forgetting all necessity to swim.

Burn.

The awkward silence
The placid quiver
The soliloquy ends.

If I could
I would
I say.

But if only you knew
The words sway?

The name you bear
My heart its share.

Tonight you change
Only leaving behind
Every felt passion
confirmed~

Wanting yet one
To be close and undone
Together lips to meet
Heart gone upbeat

Simple words flow
Nerve seems to echo
Just give me a chance
Or some more days
To make you feel
This way again.

This way again
I feel tonight
Awkward silence
And placid quiver

In your presence
I shiver.

Just envelope me still
Together
We will.

Don’t go already
Please stay?

I wilt without
You near?

Please stay.

Don’t let it change
Don’t break my glasshouse
Don’t blow it away
Just build it with me
For our future stay

The Artist

Pearly drops of body juice
Of varied aroma delighting
Spiraling wisps of sanctity
of something beneath the masterpiece

Kneading smooth skin
Chafed against dark mid night hues
Undressed feet touch satin lips
Love color turns scarlet
behind dainty strokes of amethyst candor

the artist gets bolder

vigorous strokes
blind the muse
tempting thoughts profuse
smearing palette with moist desire
the artist paints the climax

of loud, rapid sequence
muscle contraction
below the curved line
he rubs away miscalculated brush strokes
aspiring in mind

caressing the tool of yearn
in rigid pain
he unseals the better half
to sip the nectar offered
watching her tire
with great desire

now borrowing her
from reality, of her own self
coloring her in dreams