I wink at the half-truths with the kohl liner,
breath lies through blushes and mascara
click on those heels when the roads act rough.
Ensemble an armory of every feminine bluff,
and then put on that red lipstick to laugh
at the follies of this little world.
Happy Women’s Day ❤️
You my dear love, like a sceptic shock
entered my limbs and gave me a
a wasted kiss.
A lazy embrace which lay stretched
like hollow streets, hyper, hypnotic I ran
towards those sepia streets.
Time didn’t freeze, as it never does,
Yes! Sun will be the Moon tomorrow;
never doubt what the blind women say.
Wind withers on letting her raven hairs
down, making way for that barefooted
dreary dawn.
To descend coyly in the wedding gown
and embrace the Sun and the Sewage;
You and me in it’s sandy shroud.
“Makeupum Divina lipstickum
Hail Oh, scentum , perfumee lios
Goddess Stilettum que sara sara”
Madam Giselle woke up to one glorious afternoon,
and damn those long-long lashes stretching little
over than the river Nile. Sparkling stilettos towering
way above the heights of the leaning Towers of Pisa!
Having Insight 24 inches waist Madam stretched her back,
skillfully squeezed her belly to adorn golden Victorian
corset, but it wasn’t to be easy for Gods have conspired and
were hell bent to bring down the penniless heiress from the
25 floor Ivory Castle.
As madam painted her face white with crushed powders of
corals from the far-off Gulfs in the fashions of Japanese Geisha
Fluttered fake lashes, ostentatious snobbish smiles extending
little more than her chiseled jaws, heavily armored with
French powder and perfumes.
All the effort to slay any man who dare to passed by, hurriedly made
her way through the narrow allies of apartment suit in a
perpendicular fashion to avoid crushing her precious creases.
Oh so much pride, such high vanity, but she is indeed a beauty!
Tragedy fell upon! A loud thunder as heavens roared
heels cracked the sparkling Stilettos fell apart before her careful
gaze giving way to the bare ankles. It was to be the
first omen,
Acrimonious beings floating fluttering in air laughing,
giggling; a loud thunder & descended million unwelcome
tiny crystal droplets, soaking the kohl smudged eyes
cascading into pools of black waters….
“Why it had to happen to me” ,cried Madam Giselle
Was my crime to be in vain or was it just a naive disdain?
For tell me folks is
little pride bad for a woman of my type?
Today once again in
a celebration of a beauty
so ordinary, blew me a candle.
Ordered a velvet cake
smeared some face paint.
Put on those choo heels
and performed ablutions to Medusa
The goddess of our kinds
hollowed eyes, sunken cheeks
Frizzy hair, flabby flesh
Sagging bosom, plunging neck
Echoing an average tale
Of a working woman’s face
Not your usual Grecian model
Nor Venus, nor Aphrodite,
No circassian wasp-waisted
beauty embellished in Indian jewels
but very own pin-up doll in
the living room just back from
Nine to five shift, sultrous
hot and sweaty as hell,
Crownless queen of a
Bankrupt sultanate, a familiar
Unsung belle in the kitchen of your harem
Tinkling copper pot and pans,
Ruffling golden knives and forks
Castrated in a golden cage
Woman of a ruined withered ottoman sultan. “ I’ll give you kiss
and show you my moves
first let my water my plants…”
In your light, I learn how to love.
In your beauty how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest where no one sees you,
but I do, and that sight becomes
this art.
_Jalal Ud din Rumi
I miss that girl who,
would run wild, and
was always ready to
smile without breaks.
She loved without care
When the things
got tougher simply
cried her heart out.
and life would get
straight again, ideals
were lofty , heels
higher and memories
ran sharper, food
was always warm
and drinks forever
bubbling…
Now many springs
later that girl
seek reasons to
laugh, tears don’t
descend to heart’s
desire, lovers have
gone senile, running
requires plastic knee-
caps and heels are
trimmed to two inches
mark ,forgetfulness is
the way of busy life,
while food requires
a careful watch, the
bubbling drinks be
better left off…
Life might never be
straight again ….
I miss that girl!
I know not…
Was it a dream or a drowsy opiate slumber?
As I stood on a tortured sea-shore
and cast my eye on the swollen waves
passionately kissing my naked feet
making love to me with a brutish force
taking me in its azure vinyl embrace
slowly grasping my flaming flesh with
a fiery I’ve never known before,
an uproar a stir in my fragile body
exhausted since centuries of decay
the foamy saline waters entering in me
through all nook and corners, fissures and holes
mixing in all the violent blues with the
crimson reds, crawling stealthily like million
serpents, wriggling gushing upwards
Oh! a sensation a loud roar within
a rapture somewhere, an euphoric elation
an electric jolt worth thousands bolts!
My enslaved body in an act of consummation
so strong, my heart-ached, soul-shuddered
at the violation so brutal, like a hapless bird
caught in a nib of a savage Falcon from the
far-east, I let it happen without any contest
Why? Because I possessed it too and let loose
the cinders of ancient fire burning in me
for I didn’t surrender, and let it go on without
a single doubt or shame nor did I curse
the gods above, knowing that no desire is
mightier than the other, for yearnings
have the same frenzy everywhere.
But I know not…
Was it a dream or a drowsy opiate slumber?
Ms. Matilda woke past the noon,
swooning to the Beethoven’s sad tune.
A mysterious ailment swipes,
over the modern women of her types.
These curious cases of daddys’ princesses,
of colossal estates and multiple mates.
Are inflicted with malady of swinging moods,
making them shudder at matchless boots.
Ms. Matilda sitting still in her bedclothes,
howled remembering how at,
the party last night, enemy women clapped
secretly when her golden heels zapped,
and as her crimson lipstick chapped;
she knew her teddy heart is in for a snap.
My mom told me,
dad was a first born.
First born and lovers
always go away…
I travelled to far-flung
lands, never staying
more than a year or so.
It gutted me to explain
everything; the father…
the lover and everything
in between, but then
I remember, I’m a first-born,
and moved away.
Why do I feel?
I’m trying to catch,
But I’m left far-far behind?
It’s not a step but ,
a thousand miles
apart.
But some days I don’t
even try, I can’t make
up for the untrodden
paths or stride fast
to reach where I
shouldn’t.
