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!
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 just departed.
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! It churns, it widens but I ask
for more, I ask for more! I am a
sucker for all the losings humans
are capable of! I tasted sweet
success this morning when I took
that hard stone on my heart,
laughed at one more lie, swallowed
one more bitter pill, devoured
one more failure down my throat!
I am a sucker!
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
opening a narrow pass for the
grim shadow of Lincoln to flicker by,
leaving behind trails of the Fallen Soldiers
on the path once trodden by the
fierce Indian Tribes.
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 trees, insects don’t
dwell in the deceased fallen barks, dimpled
cheek cupids doesn’t appear for those who
always wait and sigh, no ballads are sung
on the onset of youth, nor a tear on its passing,
some do age without the grace of a glance
and leave the grim world still longing for
one glance.
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 intricate colonies
Unlike man there are no phonies
tremendous peace and calm
prevails amidst melody of nature’s
Scared Psalms !
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 is calling, my time
here is running out but
I’ve one more path to
undertake before I call
it a day!
