come home.

Its evening and the branches are bare.
The fallen leaves tremble
the zephyr carries the winged bird home to its nest.
Fly my child,fly it says.

Romeo and Juliet.

Romeo was 'a roam
and Juliet was love's debt
they were a sad story
defeat and death.

I dust my old grandfather clock
and see pendulum talk to me
its swinging back and forth
and it is physics and history

I look forward and notice photographs
I see happy days gone by fast

I see rose wood and teak chairs
and rock, does my mind
as I rest.

her.

Because words are all evil and uncouth. Now there is a waterfall and waves across her forehead. Her gaze is like a rocket in a starless night sky. Cascading tresses and waterworks in her eyes.

There was a mighty serpent in her throat and the twitch of her nose was a warm embrace. The table around her was in need of cleaning. The clutter was in her head. The rocking chair was a lullaby. The empty wine bottles were half past midnight and like faithful ardor.

Her tea was chamomile, gaping pride. Healing the inner sanctum sanctorum. There were rose petals for a bed and sleep was in the mind.

The drapes were half drawn and the moon light shone through it.

She was paradise.

v__-

and as I peeled your laughter from
the canvas of my mind
I saw and gathered its tiny shavings

aquamarine was the onset of thy gait
like a wave washes the shore

purple was lingering resonance
of your sly peek

blue was the enormity of the sky
like dreams of being in your arms.

ocher and veridian were lonely sunsets
and melancholy like a bleeding violin


red was devotion

ocean' the depths of the ocean

indigo was the pregnant rainy sky
that burst clouds
on warm wet mud
oh how crazy
drive,dive.

put in you after every word
and this is but a lie
without you
with or without you.
i am.

Meaning?

what immortal hand or eye
could frame thy fearful symmetry.

this is my favoritest poem in the world.
I read it every time I am down and out.
It helps me re-build.
After all its always about strong foundations;

________________

It was like sitting in a wheelchair in the midst of a marathon.
But who is to blame but me.
I tried to pluck flowers off a graveyard.

Trying to bloom,purity
I ended up on a pyre.

Though it was never my funeral.
I felt compassion like a storm.

I visited my friends,Tom,Harry and Dickens.
I tried to find happiness in theirs.
There was but withered memoirs.

I bore wounds like a man.
I let them tie my fingers and across my bust.
Sanguine rushed like a fountain and I let vultures feed off it.

I tried to dream but only then did I know I have none left.Maybe.

Choices were always a problem for you.....
- Opiate.

Universe.

the moonlit shore
growling wolf
pristine sand
a thimble spool
rainless and starry eyed

the body an atlas
Ahoy! ahoy
a sailor on board
sinking ship
the depths of my heart
rose the tornado
piercing the skies

galaxies galore
sing me
a lullaby

what happens to lonliness

bare clouds are a harp
mouth organs bloom
the terrible mystery
too much all too soon

the sky is a cobweb
knitted walls of clay
nude pastels
my mind at play

it almost rained
on my bed
winter not warmth
to stay

love is a frostbite
like a kiln
i lay all at stake.

Change in chance.

This is a story.

It could be about the fake tin soldier who lost his weapons in heat.

Maybe it was the huffing mane’d lion who could only but crawl.

Or the insane feathered parakeet. Plumes et al.

All of that could be.

This though is my story.

And I end it here.

Because all of you are cowards to read further and me too brave to finish it.

My story is mine alone.

It has fantasies and sordid crimes.

Mysteries and bales of unraveled paper.

Music and monarchy.

Misfortune and marmalade.

No breakfast,mind you.

None of that for me.

I'm just a rag doll.

I look along with big eyes and a blank expression.

I lost my smile to love.

I won in defeat.

I grew with wonder and saw her leave.

My teenage woes were fructified.

I was assuaged to a ravaging lunatic.

My artistry was ripped apart and my con identity was shattered.

Now I lay down under the indigo sky with a hint of umber and rose hue. Also just a little bit of purple.

The moon peeks at me. My eyelashes play hide and seek with the stars.

I am making love to the night sky. It is faithful. Celestial and wholly accepting.

The stars dim now, as I watch them fluttering my lashes.

The moon is a cradle and I can almost see fairy dust sprinkle around me.

My lover was lost in a war and he found a mate elsewhere.

So here I lay like a log waiting for the sky to tear open and engulf me.

Clean slate my existence and deny my being.

My belief however staunch goes along with it, into a black hole of sorts.

I am nothing and this is the beginning.