Behind those crooked smiles lie some grief, little pain… Those winning dimples, sunken deep in cheeks hollowed by cheap joints of gas-stations telling tales of murky betrayals. Ruby wines oozing of the pale veins in those abandoned cabarets. Love a Wasteland! She did bloom a Rose or a Tulip somewhere! Advertisements
I stole a kiss from the crimson Sun, an embrace from the sickly tree, a smile from the fading flower, humility from the burdened Earth. A spoon-full of water from that dying, river, its gentle waters relaxing one last time and taking a deepest sigh! I leaned in my insatiable greed knowing that it’s spirit …
Yes life hurls stones and pebbles fate bombards proxies, follies phonies but hold on…. I am a sucker for one more! I devour failure like a hungry homeless for I’ve nothing to eat so I gulp every failure down my parched throat till the-bitter liquid of failure syncs-with the juices in my emaciated stomach… Oh! …
Genesis began a void an empty black-hole on whose fringes blinding yellowness dwells. Something a miss in the center! What, I shall never know? A fissure somewhere in the embellish wall in-front. Always one brick less in the cemented wall of our existence…
The day we become a history, the sepia air dampened the lush green memories,the hollow houses stood empty while the gleeful ghosts of the past occupied shallow graves, that lazy brook saw it all with her tearful eyes, the azure skies didn’t budge from their stands while the ancient trees remained testimonials of the day we become a history.
Fear is love it lingers… chases and breaks, melting away in veins morphing into pulsating heart-beats, strangulating in narrow lungs Fear is love!
Standing in the land of the great Apaches Midst blooming wild poppies and the mammoth elephant grasses, thinking of the dream that once Martin Luther had. May be the days of chivalric Camelot are over, as I heaved reclining on the grand arm chair; vicious winds from the North gushed echoing footsteps of a massive feet …
A glance is enough for the heart to beat to transform naivety into shrewdness of some kind, many long for it in the ancient past to moisten their dry parched youth, as the case it never befalls where it ought to, yearnings fossilized froze in the corner of heart, birds never chirp on the skeletal …
When I was young, I believed in emerald elves & golden goblins, they lived in tranquilly behind the tall elephant grasses, a glee takes over my face when I see vision of the whispering cloud A raven grim hovering around murmuring secrets of azure skies I can overhear the gentle cries of sullen crickets in …
A migrant, I’ve no tales of herculean tragedy to my name, you see not every trip is planned nor every destination fixed, it was a chance I stumbled upon few roads knowing one day I’ll go back, I walked hesitatingly meeting few along ,aware that home is a person we go back to, my golden abode …