THE HUMAN ANVIL

Tag: love

  • Shards of Symphony

    There has been a song in my head,
    Long since we met,
    And it had no lyrics of love,
    Just a music underway,
    I hum it when sad,
    When happy I whistled it twice,
    Only to find it everywhere, other day,
    With people like me; without a choice

    Ivory atoned in milk,
    Alabaster laid in salt,
    Your clothes, moonlight threaded,
    Upon skin without a fault.

    (I ramble of your beauty,
    When nothing is to be thought about)

    Remember the vase I gifted you once,
    Wrinkled porcelain,
    Thunder in glass,
    And you kept it hidden, under your warm clothes,
    Deep in the closet,
    Lest no mourner of life, of eternal charm,
    Plucks a fountain of flower,
    To abide, this graceful tomb;
    We adore and abide and anoint,
    With feelings, like watered paint, like warm breathe,
    Or something more forgettable.

    I found pieces of it the other day,
    Shards of symphony,
    Scattered voices,
    Gleaming, under the stairway,
    Spiting neon light;
    Forked tongue, poison.

    You had after all,
    Plucked one, a deep dark red,
    It’s fragrance; my fear of all things left unsaid.

    There is a reason roses have thorns,
    Everything comes at a price,
    Love is not a line in stone,
    Sometimes its roll of a dice.

    Now you tail windmills,
    And I can see your feet, nestled in grass,
    And your hand in your hair,
    Untying my knots,
    So the new wind, the new time,
    Can hold you aloft
    And make you feel at home
    As if that can suffice your bohemian soul
    That jukebox of rhythms
    You shuffle to make whole.

    Love to you was just a word to behold
    Words to you were feelings to be sold
    Feelings to you only a reason to be kind
    Reasons to you were reasons to nevermind.

    I shall remember, yes,
    When waiting for the flowers to bloom
    For a ship to set sail
    From the corner of my room
    That you, love,
    Never cared after all
    This was no poem or play
    You were writing on the wall
    But my life, this meagre, stuff made of snow
    A candle you alighted
    But forgot to blow
    And now the wishes they linger
    Like rats in the rain
    For leftover love
    Not poisoned with pain…
































  • Intentions

    Will my silence be enough
    To let you know I am no more
    Will you shake your head and smile
    And be as you were before
    Will it be my laughter that you remember
    Decades later on a summer noon
    Will you ask why I never came back
    Or lament why I returned so soon
    Will my face be what you seek
    When thinking of things past
    Will you forget the first day we met
    Was the day that we met last
    Will these hands that once were mine
    Remain forever alone in memory
    Will you extend yours just to share
    Their shadow so I could be We
    Will my words ever be able to describe
    This ache that now I feel
    Will you break my heart each time
    You want your own to heal…

  • Rowing Till The Riverbed

    Let me fall now, no
    Let me fade away instead
    I am tired of being ever alone
    Of being always afraid

    I was a fool to grapple with the dark, you know,
    A fool to light my heart on fire
    A fool to eat the wounded ashes
    To taste the honey of that sweet desire

    I was blind with my eyes open
    Blind to the water rising around my waist
    Blind to see that I with my words
    Was no different than the rest

    So here I am now, here,
    A face amongst other faces:
    All fools condemned henceforth
    To die; by hanging on her tresses

    I should have known it, I should have
    For it was no secret after all
    That there was magic in her voice
    And that it was a siren’s call

    It was this damned dream, you see,
    To be together in the end
    So surreal that I forgot
    It was all make-believe, a pretend

    I am going now, I am gone
    There are other lovers in the line
    They ask me if she is a goddess
    And I answer: Yes, if the Devil’s Divine…

  • Her Other Half

    We talk like strangers
    Unwilling to laugh
    Unable to cry
    Like two shells remembering
    The sound of a sea
    Buried deep
    Somewhere
    In fissures of our bone…
    Yours too my love?
    Or of mine alone?

    I was wrong to dream, wasn’t I?
    Wrong to feel
    Wrong to hope
    A fool who thought her happiness starts
    At the end of his joke
    O Pagliacci, Pagliacci
    Thou story of my life
    Why didn’t you laugh and say:
    It’s the heart which pierced the knife

    Bye now, it’s late
    And I have old wounds to tear
    Like promises to make love
    Or I wish you were here
    The night is still young
    Do not waste it on me
    You had my life once
    But you never stopped to see

  • A Lifetime


    If all the nights
    And all the days
    Of my life
    Condense
    In one epiphany without end
    Then friend hear well
    That the clock, when it strikes midnight,
    Will not be pointing at twelve

  • The Silence Along My Spine


    It is a dream I do not remember 
    But remember all the same
    Like those faces I desire 
    Without knowing their name
    As if in the grand scheme of things
    Wherein a million stories unfold 
    I am just a chapter 
    Of a young man who grew old

    These oceans which are open
    These skies which are blind
    These forests which aren’t silent 
    These mountains sans a mind
    Are mine to behold and break
    To bind and to find
    For the similes to be kept never similar 
    And metaphors ever one of a kind

    You can call my claims childish 
    Or let my words make you weep
    When you see the vacuum in my voice
    Hover upon my lower lip
    Where the broken wind balances 
    Those desires and despair 
    And life in its likeliest form 
    Is heartbeat at the end of a hair

    If only I could myself see and show 
    What I have lost in my pursuit to know 
    The allegories of living 
    Without wanting to grow
    Alas, I have my own 
    Reason to bear the blame:
    For to the man who shall leave no footprints 
    The dust is all the same

  • Some Lotus Are All Roses

    I have spent half my life
    Looking how I was wanted to be seen
    Powdered to the tip of my nose
    Accurately thin
    With anklets on my feet
    That laughed alone in night
    And a locket round my neck
    Buried out of sight
    I had flowers on my frocks
    When I was a lotus bud soft pink
    And roses in my hair locks
    When I was allowed to think
    As if my beauty was just a face
    Without a wish or voice
    As if being born the way I was
    Had something to do with choice
    If only I could have told them then
    The thoughts I had in my mind
    Of my mantelpiece existence
    Of being beautiful but kept blind
    Alone as my own mirror
    Echoing solitude
    Days spent dressed for the world to wonder
    And nights being ashamed to be nude

  • The Men Behind Monuments

    Image by Jiyad Nassar @unsplash


    In this sudden stillness
    A final silence grows
    From beneath the dead branches
    Enveloping ants and Angels alike

    The dry mist of purpose
    That once haunted men
    Now haunts their monuments
    The mindless mortar
    Made and remade
    For each thought
    And every contour
    Which seeks in itself
    The forever form
    That everlasting aspiration
    Of becoming a being

    But the Promethean promises
    Are but promises
    Just as the silhouette stems from the shape
    So does the shape is rooted in the silhouette
    Like a circle trapped
    Within its own circumference
    Sans a seen beginning
    Sans any unseen end

    There is a witness
    For every arrival
    Till no one arrives anymore
    And then the fishes are left alone in the desert
    To drown in the mirage of memories
    The breathing carcass
    Reminiscent of living
    In an abandoned womb
    Never to awake
    Never to walk
    Like ages unspent
    Upon the faces of the rock

  • The Painted Panther

    She was a painted panther
    Black skin and velvet dye
    Her eyes had all the answers
    But her lips knew when to lie
    Her home was a silver wasteland
    A piece of moon was her throne at night
    She spoke only in shadows
    And heard only the sound of light
    Her shape was god and movement
    And her name was without a face
    People worshipped her from far
    Like a pilgrim without a place
    And before long we all will be dreaming
    Her dreams on the final bed
    Where all eyes turn inward ever after
    And no more any word is said
    Because she was a painted panther
    Black skin and velvet dye
    Her eyes had all the answers
    But her lips knew when to lie

  • An Answer to the Abyss

    This moment
    It is endless
    There is nothing more to be
    It is the past you predicted
    And future you didn’t see…