Wednesday, 3 June 2009

Filthy Me

I smelled of cigarettes.
My hair greasy, my eyes
tired of sleepless nights,
my bad breathe of garlic and
onions, my skin dusty, my fingers
coloured with blue ink, my nails
bitten and unpolished, my sweat
with inflicting odor of rum and whisky,
my body dark and scars scattered
all over. And you said,
‘You are beautiful!’

I simply smiled.
Thought to myself.
‘You are a fool.
You not know how to
approach your
yearning lust to a woman.’
And I smiled again,
blowing the smoke on his face.

Monday, 1 June 2009

Climbing the Rock

Bit my nails in distress.
Filled my eyes with gloom.
The night was shadowy
creeping on my soul with mystery.
Shuddering my weak body,
I was shuddering out of uncertainty.
I knew, I was helpless;
Helpless of my fear towards
the high and steep dreams.
It stood like a rocky mountain. The dreams seemed like a
mammoth long distinct from earth.
I felt weaker as I walked past it.
Felt numbness on my legs;
a sandstorm in my stomach.
I stood there, watching hours
crawling like a snake on a
polished black granite surface;
myself crawling with time.
Waited until dawn, and the
sun showed up with a bright smile.

I touched the dusty rock
with my urge to climb.
Legs found a break in the rock.
I climbed, with a mission in mind.
I climbed, not to look down.
I climbed, not to look down
at my past, not to fall for it.
I climbed, not to fall for my grieves.

Touched the peak, and climbed over.
Now I looked down and
saw a replica of myself
standing down, still shuddering.
But I felt wonderful, seeing where I was.
I did not look down to fall for my past.

The wild illusion of myself that I
Was seeing down, I laughed at it!

Trickster

I’m a trickster.
I can trick my beatitude;
Laugh with it for years!
Smile like a flower in the bright sun,
when I’m not able to.
Enjoy like a singer singing to myself,
when I’m not able to.
I’m a trickster.
I can trick my beatitude;
Laugh with it for years!
I’m a trickster.
I can trick my lust;
Groove in it for years!
Close my eyes as in contempt,
though I don’t feel like.
Moan softly to give pleasure,
though I don’t feel like.
I’m a trickster.
I can trick my lust;
Groove in it for years!

I’m a trickster.
I can trick my agony;
Play with it for years!
Cry like a baby with no inhibitions,
though I don’t want to.
Write like I’m insane because of pain,
though I don’t want to.
I’m a trickster.
I can trick my agony;
Play with it for years!

I’m a trickster.
I can trick my life;
Learn from it for years!
Make mistakes and try again,
though I can’t control.
Score well and bury it within,
though I can’t control.
I’m a trickster.
I can trick my life;
Learn from it for years!

I’m a trickster
I can satisfy myself;
Tricking myself with my tricks!

Eyes

When you looked at me,
I jumped into your shiny eyes.
In that white creamy pool,
I swam for hours,
exploring it’s black deep annular depths.
I played with the soft red and blue
creepers in the creamy pool.
When you looked away
I was drenched by your love.
I longed for you to look at me again.
Your each glance was like
the wild waves hitting a shore.
Left with froths of love,
I bathed in it fancily.
Your eyes stabbed my heart,
took out the hidden desires
with your sharp edged looks.

Now I bleed.
Bleed, for I miss those sparkling eyes.
It never shines like that anymore.
Where has the magic gone, my love?
Did I kill it with my deep sighs,
over the long turmoil years of pain?
Or did you hide it within
your esoteric unexplored voidness?

I beg you.
Let me see that magic in your eyes again.
I beg you.
Only once, if not for me for anyone you feel.
Or don’t you feel it anymore?
I just wish to see that sparkly look.
And I may die peacefully
For your soul shows itself in it !
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