I want to see you in the midnight’s dress Alabaster elbows and satin shoulders Open for my interpretation; To gaze and wonder at the sea green veins Charting their course From your heart to mine.
I slept early last night Holding onto this thought; The effervescence of time, Of how our memories drag on Centuries before we met Like a trail Running through the forever forests Of passing people and people passing Like shadows on a summer road.
You belong to my mind At the beginning of my dreams And the end of it An epiphany born of my eyelashes An immortal thirst A fleeting fulfilment That loves to tear me apart Only to make me whole My design is your destiny And your smile, my soul.
You look like an ocean in disguise Laughing somewhere between My heart and the horizon With a storm in your chest And sunset around your waist Wherefore I set sail Alone with an oar Parting bubbles and blossoms To touch your darkening depths Beneath white waves, And now I am drowning In your purple pulse Safe under The midnight’s dress And my hands they are coloured bright In the light of your enraptured face
I stood open Like a coat with its collars out Watching the eddies engulf Small horizons Spread across the drowning fields of dark passion Ivory bodies; Burning like lightbulbs Float without feeling their flesh Turn into tentacles Those roots with mind And headless intent Searching depths Forbidden to the common kind
There is a sense of self Without understanding Which echoes from mouth to mouth Of every mortal marching in tandem With the balance between their breaths Or how else would dreams in death defy Their short lived immortality And return to the shared seed That individual’s agony; Of being the answer to another’s need
Parched thoughts Eyelids whispering The story of skin upon skin In histories unwritten Monuments crumbling Under the weight of that original sin Of having known Right from the wrong In veins; dyed blue Pulse of a heart that do not belong To the common questions Left to muse In the silence of philosophy
I can feel my own eyes Watching themselves In reflection Unable to adjust To the depths Reaching out of the abyss for the sky I swallow the tempest So my clothes can stay dry Beneath bare feet and stilettos The ghettos are the same If my mind is Medusa The world is Poseidon to blame But the wheel it shall Be ever on the roll For every man down There is another to make it whole
Life, look out This man asleep Is walking a dream His pulse, afraid of inimical things, dance At the incoherent din of the cattle bell, For he knows only the time of tommorow Prophesied by blind sages Sages left by the world to marinate in old age And he carries it; the cattle bell, it’s dead weight, it’s rue weight, like a talisman Through the thick fog of promises To the other side, where the light, yet unseen, seems to shine differently For the sages who have looked on the winter From far, would know something of the snow Or so he hoped, with his face coddled within the blinkers And crowned with a horseshoe
Life, look out The man asleep Knows not that he is sleeping And so as waves he worship the shore Unaware that he stands with men Too afraid to blink at the sea And soon he too would be watching the waters Shiver with each breath of the seagull Till his own wings wither and rot away Leaving him; this epileptic Icarus A common man among the common men Left to watch each sunrise And every sunset From the shade of a dry sacamore The hinterland of heart That burned in winter Knows both fire and ice is the same; Perhaps, in the slow dance of the dying fire He seeks the heat some more Perhaps, his dreams are dreams of a dream He dreamt he has dreamt before…
Flesh and light Bone and stone Are same, similar; a synonym Of everything
I gazed into the night Fragmented by the city lights Knifing the dreams dead in their tracks
Scalped thoughts Hanging from the cumerbund Of the comedian Laugh with the wind
There is no framework for fame Nietzsche is not a name And all that I know of shame Came from the fingers that blame; Et tu? Fuck you Bad words don’t exist At all For thoughts know not their origin But only the sin Of being The way they are
Broken mirrors Cannot mend the man And broken man Never has a mirror
Everything is going to disappear soon And the leftover void shall know There is nothing known as nothingness For even in silence the silence shall grow
Death, do not cry I know; you are no one’s friend But that does not make you; a foe Like all who have been and are being swept away Like a clove leaf upon a current You too are destined by design To sow and grow; sorrow That abandoned thistle tree Which all passes and pretends not to see
Death, do not cry When your choices go wrong There are so many voices asking To add another verse to their swan song But you know as do I That music is sweet only for so long And it starts with no cymbals and shall end with no gong
Death, do not cry People do care about you a lot You may not always be the fountainhead But you are almost always an afterthought And we may not think of you as we breathe Or when we play the games of Holy Land But we do rehearse our union every night Though not all of us understand
Death, do not cry We shall meet for once and forever But before that I must ask an honest, humble favor: Of all the places for us to meet And greet, if you could visit me when I am fast asleep Then there shall be nothing for me to weep As I skip; the curtain call of my every emotion And be like a nameless raindrop falling into an aimless ocean
I have danced Many a dances Without a song in my mind And I saw many a chances Yet pretended to be blind There were reasons For these decisions But those reasons were not mine I was a stone, sought for statues But born on an incline And so I fell down the narrow Walls, without a ledge Trapped between tombstones Out of time, for an age And now I await in the dungeons With my heart on the ground In search of an echo That can be heard without a sound
I dissolve in the potpourri
A green leaf amidst dead petal
Lost men flock the streetcar
And only I fight for the aisle
Knowing far too well that the bespectacled windows
Shall turn some blind in a while
For the tapestry towns
Stitched with dancing lights
Is not for them to claim
Who lick the darkness between two tungsten tongues
And know no aftertaste to blame
But the raindrop feet on cobbled streets
Paper skin behind display glass
Torn faces through the Venetian Blinds
A world watered in a vase
Are all akin
To a bargained win
For those with mundane affair
Of humble hands with seawater veins
Wading waves of deep despair
But I of charlatan choice
Of parched lips moisturised with the mud
I know far too well of flowerpots
And the fate of dreaming bud
So I dissolve in the potpourri
A green leaf amidst dead petal
Growing gardens beneath empty graves
Waiting for the dust to settle
I dissolve in the potpourri