Seasons.

The tuft of of lift
like that of ruffles of the
dress
of a spanish tressed
broken into fervor
of a fast beat.
The once, spring
in my staunch walk.

As autumn blew willows
and acorns hardened
in prepare of winter and its
symphonies.

Compilations.
those rain drops that brim within my mouth
as i shut my eyes tight
embracing brevity
trickling down my shoulders
my bosom
cupped between ravines of
the hard of frozen buds
and gravel across its roots
like the shrivel of a nipple.
just like the wholesome taste
of it in your mouth
to the brim.

Winter echoed and whined
the ghosts
whistled past the
white flowers
adorning the cleft of the
bushes on the right.


Swiveled scorched
in the bright of the radiance of sun
following her soap soaked feet
into the womb of hot sand
like crabs biting toes.
just small baby ones
that get crushed
because its for you.
thats when summer flocked
upon the hem of a skirt
shriveling them to unravel
stockings
that teased from beneath.

The blackest of rain
turned purple
after crimson dowsed it
to the grey of time
and then simmered a purple.
The Purple of timeless stains
embedded in a classic snapshot
of black and white
under the Eiffel like light house
shwooshing through the air
all its brilliance in the reflections
of it in the water
the same
over which rocked our boat
as you row'd
us to the shore.
The only shore with the light
that shines.
In little twinkling lights
in your eyes.
Of corsets and coffee shots
that followed.
In the moist dew
on hay of pure viscosity.
We floated, oh did we?
And only clouds could
tell, how it felt
to carry the light heart
weighed down and set free
by love.

By Jove, How
is this.
But a tale of Eos and tryst.
In hymns and chants
of the october rust.

And in lieu
Karma, is burst.

Lets live those seasons.
That as I walk everyday
through death,
remember,
that, its this dream
in my realities,
that I pine.
That keeps me
walking through
dirt
falling apart in it
each time
and ingrained
as sea serpents
un-entwine
from beneath
the churned waves
of an eternal splash
in emerald oceans.

A cacophony of distant
exotic bird whistles
echoing through opacity
of water
diminishing
as fishes gurgle into my nostrils
of secrets of the pearl.
Beneath and bequeathed
between
the most feminine of flesh.

And as I lost breath inside
my face in
a large bowl
of iced water.

This wait.
Won't be long.
These seasons.
Will pass.
Just live.
This time like
the last was divine.

Likes

The likes of harem women
clad in feather liken silk
ist thou fairer like milk
or the dark of hair like

A touch like a tickle
some soft like feeding bottle's nipple
the like of a cracked lipp
felt soft and smeared like honeyapple.

PyrettaBlaze

In a tryst of exist and exit
there lay a prodigy
to manifest
what begun has been
on it bestowed
the curse of its
end as it is but
a servile birth
that must reveal the real
eclipsed and binary
before the wounds engulf.

To be or not to be.
Its all in the mind.
Either existence for itself.
Or existence for the end.
I can choose, so can you.

You are the first
to be my last
These are my final words

Summer is a bitch.

A few eons back
when sound propelled barren lands
whirling through parched,
thirsty water beds
waiting to be fed

there lay clandestine virtues
of woman and womb
and then the end
and he who knows.


In a tryst of exist and exit
there lay a prodigy
to manifest
what begun has been
on it bestowed
the curse of its
end as it is but
a servile birth
that must reveal the real
eclipsed and binary
before the wounds engulf.

To be or not to be.
Its all in the mind.
Either existence for itself.
Or existence for the end.
I can choose, so can you.

Chugli Chor karey khujli :\

So it had been a long day and in bare essentials, I started rummaging my drawer.
I found these pack of cards.
Really old but brand new.
I like keeping them straight and stiff, like they're supposed to be.
Also just so that you know, I hate doggy years on my books.

But there was only one problem.
I could no longer build the pack of cards into a castle.
I just couldn't, I tried.

I would build the second floor after mounting cards on the first row and all of it would fall.
Sigh.
Though I've promised myself that I shall soon build all those cards into one single structure.
I will.

So its been almost four months of self imposed rehab.
Though celibacy is far from reached :P

So me and mom were talking yesterday and she got me singing.
I sang for her, for almost an hour and a half and she listened while I sang in mourning for my missing tanpura.
I sang.
Yes.
So well I'm taking mom out for a happy time today, she's going to pay cause I haves no job :P
But hello, isn't organizing also about earning money :P
I organized the schedule for having fun.

Ooowee

I really want to hit the spa.
Krissi had promised we'd go together.
But bah.
She said we'd have mud baths and honey blunts.

So this is dedicated to you sugarlove<3 and="" angelcupcake="" are="" br="" ever="" happy.="" hope="" i="" now="" right="" safe="" where="" you="">
Also to one of the most pretty and composed teachers I ever had.
Mrs Khansaheb and her entire family, you all will be in my thoughts and affirmations.
They met with an accident on their way back to Mumbai City.
Entire family lost in one fucking journey.
I will always miss seeing you in those starched saris and perfect shade of matching lipstick.
Though its almost been years since we met.
I know you'd recognize me as much as I miss you right now
=]


Well today was bad.
I had to get a haircut.
CHEWING GUM
Its looks pretty nice.
But my hair is short.
Stupid Lo'real Salons.
The guy offered me tang and said he'd give all to make me feel comfortable about my hair.
Stupid man trying to flirt.
I actually told him in anger if he really wants to help he should give me a solution to grow hair as quick as it got cut :(
Ok, so I'm touchy about my hair and I know I wouldn't have whined as much if I had decided on the haircut anyway.
But but :(








That is how my hair used to look anyway.




So I go to meet the girls, tomorrow mostly, if I decide not to kalti
So anyway I shall have updates on latest sales and gossip around about and a quick run through through nostalgia or what is left.

So I'm writing critical analysis of a few plays.
Maybe I will just feel good enough to write a script
=]

Till then hope for me
ummpf
even you and you.

SO LAST BUT NOT THE LEAST
cuz thats how things end anyway



READ the next picture carefully :P

The one that will never be.

Like the petals of a flower ready to shrivel
at the touch
of anything but not of its own
but the flower has to bloom
the other will reach beauty and
wither away with duty
And the budding tendril waiting to
untwine from the shrivel of umbilici
will live each chapter
blossoming and
knowing its fate
to surrender to incarnation
of part and parcel
such is the mother of a daughter,
as is she to her own.


To Motherhood.

lesser mortal

And as the last of the rain pours by
a silent mourn was let out
To fire and what can be doused
the rain was left unaccounted for.

the forest fire rages on.

Harlequin of desire.

And the curve of that mighty horizon
light a fire, lit against the soft of skin
a mighty fall
into depths
of the raging whirlpool
against the valleys of mighty ocean waves crashed
as the insides of the fragrance of spices
churns, into a plethora of sparkling cooling feathers

And then from between legs,like a flamingo
ready to fled
he was mesmerized by birth
of feelings
hers.
Inside of him
as words ran along his fingertips
instead off his lips
they were occupied
by moist clandestine breath
of a universe of secrets
a rub of ice, the stiff of skin
and as the breaths get shorter
and closer to the hollow of his ear
a spread was consumed over his mighty bulges
as the parasol spread
with a warm coolth from her lip
as my ear went snip
between the pearl of lip
as lay her full drop round pearls
that lay on the satin sheets
as he ripped
as she gripped
tightened the rope
like a mighty bird ready
rocking midst the ocean over a stone
it wanted to alight
Alighting and alternating
hip and lip
And then you descend down, mountain
drenched in rain, whose
arched against her neck
as she blows menthol toothpaste kisses
and wraps up
in silk and walks to toast butter
and some morning grub
bed and fed

-


Adapted from the sexuality in the conversation between Jessica and Lorenzo,combineering nature and its elements to portray the love they made while at Portia's house.
Act Five, Scene One, Merchant of Venice.
Dedicated to Marlowe.
Who was the most subtly provoking writer.
Merchant of Venice was originally adapted from Marlowe's , Jew Of Malta.
Shakespeare is like the Jim Morrison of lyrics.
No offense to admirer's of either.
I enjoy both equally for other reasons.
Dedicated to lust, stemming from love.
To please and be pleasured by one.
Like a fresh whiff of ground coffee sipped and stemming from it the want to never share, your cup.
To faith.

The Day.

Darjeeling Tea.
Tagore.
Russian Circles.

I just hope all noisy little nincompoops who disgrace the peace in a Barista suddenly go mute.


I need a job.
Employ me.

I was walking along pali after looking for anklets.
I like hanging them all over my room.
I misplaced my ghungrus.
But one pair that hangs from any place that can have something hanging from it.
So anyway I want to dedicate Black Dog to all those assimilated beautiful women dying of claustrophobia of the Bandra air because of too many of the same kind.
Too much eye candy is an over kill.
Hmmpf.
So anyway like always I ended waiting for facebaby and then we talked over Subway salad and I ate truffle XD
I quite enjoyed her company like I always do.
Though the comfort of my empty house after a dental appointment for I don't know what.
I cancelled cause I don't want dreaded news about a cavity :(
My first, if at all.
Clove oil is good.
Though it makes you spit a lot.
And then I get tempted to blow spit bubbles which is unhygienic and not so appealing to anyone except a few decrepit retards who enjoy this felony with me :P
Again did I mention facebaby :P
I didn't complain about waiting cause now you owe me lots of lens moving thingys.
Yes, I'm not weird, Ive never had spectacles and I get amused and fascinated by people who can move they're contact lenses inside their eye.
:P

I wish I was taller.
Like six feet or something.
I'm only fiveseven:(
And Toothi will complain about how I'm a whiner and I never make an effort to look like a woman.
She was advising me on her almost yearly trips to see me and upgrade my knowledge on latest fashion and make up.
She says the internet is very useful and I must watch you tube videos to enhance my looks.
Lmao.
Shesocute.
She wrote in my birthday card, cuz she knows I prefer written and made items over gifts, unless they're thoughtful.
That she would have married only me if I were a guy and that whether or not I like it, I have only her and I'm stuck
*turnsscarlet*
And she told me I should apply a slight pink matte lip shit.
I settled for winter grape balm that I own.
She tch'ed me and ended the conversation by reminding me to buy mascara called voluminous or something.

Chamchambaby is mad at me cause she thinks I'm ignoring her.
I'll buy her a croissant and settle for a beer in return which she'll takes sips of while taunting me about how it is fattening and all that.
And then will gorge a plate of dragon chicken.
I think I'll just buy her that.

So anyway I'm bored now.
And I want to really complete my article on the stock market but first I must stuff myself.
Cause I ate only
1.Cornflakes(breakfast)
2.Darjeeling tea, gingerlemon tea (lunch)
3.chocolate truffle (while facebaby tempted me with meatballs) I can't eat chicken anymore.
Really.
So anyway Bon apetit to all the foodies.
Who imagine food to be a form of redemption when nothing else is more interesting.

Dinner and some telly XD
YAY
I love watching weekly telly :\
Ok BYE now.

I'm bored :(
Really.
Job.
Please
PLEASE

*rolls over the floor*