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Wednesday, 1 June 2016

Never human ...

We are never human
We are always less or so much more
We are phoenix fires through grey mountains
Or maybe stars we gazed upon, we are them
We broke and fell upon mirages of ecstasy
To rise up as cratered fragments
We are inked down particles
Running through each other’s veins
Like frantic atoms in a lost space
We are the gentle blows of winds
On the face of haywire tornadoes
Or are we that as well?
We are the supernatural things haunting one another
In sleepless nights with drifted minds
We are the silver drawn chariots of a sun scorched rainbow
The divine comedy of lives
Or maybe the swirling twirling smoke
Passed from burnt bitter lungs
We are blood tears that flow at every sunset
We are the stares for kisses
The handshakes for ravaging love
The smiles for a knee cut child
We are the flocking metaphors for crumbled poems
The voice of the mute
The one syllable to eternity.




Intangible more ...

I want the intangible more
The un-burnt hells and the unscathed heavens
Stormed out words raging from within you
Hail and cloudbursts of your glorious soul
The calm of restless fingers in mine
The peace that comes with you sighs

I want the intangible more
The clasping pieces of your piecing heart
The washed out words said under your breath
The presses and pulls on your carefully carved ribs
Havoc born from your salvation looks
Slow smiles of unreformed sin

I want the intangible more
Terrors of lonely bodies
Wandering hands in a known strange night
The ravaging kisses of fingertips on skin
The un-quenched lust of your eyes
The soft moans and the loud gasps

I want the intangible more.


Quarter spirit ...

That was one heavy night
When the blank space
Between us and the moon
Slowly swirled around us
Made of wholesome nothingness
And bred on fury
We saw remnants of all that we had left behind
Breaths and souls and everything else
Two half people of quarter spirits
Aghast by the thought of salvation
And the night stood still
While we carefully picked our pieces
And In a desperate attempt to join them
Made a beautiful haunted shadow
That still blooms

Where we shed out last drop.

Whore love ...

I remember you
Your incessant attempt
To make love to smoky reality
The way you trembled with the touch of life
Aroused and bleeding lips
Tired pelvic and collarbones exposed
With the chaos that reigned through the days
Desperate tries to lie down
On bare bodies of passed seconds
Memories you forced inside you
Heavy breathing and cold sweats of days
Maddening whore love
Made to time.


Stitches ...

With your touch
I swear I feel the seams of my stiches
Blending into my skin
Matting out and bleeding in
I hear the crackling sound of blood vessels forming
And the silent gush of blood through and through
I feel the cracks filling up
Love and sex
Incomplete wholeness taking over me
And for once I know
With your skin on mine

You breathe through her ghost.

Existence ...

I’ve seen me build up
Crumbles and dust
From the ashes of her being
And graves of our memoirs
I’ve been rebuilt and restructured
With soil for flesh
And a stone for a heart
Agony as blood and a head of stars
I’ve got a sense of pain
With a loss of joy
A world too seen to be fathomed

And an existence too meek to give up on.

Blown thistles ...

I woke up one day
To see your lips silently and calmly
Kissing the very sunrays
That caressed us
Out of the dreamy world
We survived in
Your lips glistened as it slowly and softly exhaled
All dreariness and lifelessness
Like a silhouette of some shadow
Dancing frenzy in the morning dew
Quivering lips upon the touch of stale fresh city breeze
White curtains that clothed most of you that remained human
And everything else present in that room

Seemed like blown thistles.

Thursday, 21 January 2016

Live it all ...

I will swallow your fragrance
And breathe out ashes
Swordfight the lurking shadows
And stab through the citadels of souls
I will dig out graves of wooden crucifixes
And pour down jars of ecstasy
Devour the mist and dirt that build bodies
And float away like wanderlust spirits
I will walk on lands not yet made
And dance to tantric drumbeats
I will live it all.


Small things ...

I live off small things
Microscopic entities that roll over unnoticed
A faint tune to somewhere something
Some words accidentally heard somewhere
Or some soul of a person enjoying on a street
The wag of a tail or calls of birds
A photo of a person long forgotten
Or an old T-shirt randomly pulled out
Torn jeans that still fit
A few alphabets scribbled on a paper almost thrown away
A careless run of pens on walls from hazed out childhood
Smiles of known strangers
Greetings of old people
An untangled headphone
Or just reflections in the mirror
Small things.


Universe ...

She has made her universe in me
Between frictionless sheets
Sliding against us
And trembling hands too weak
The sighs of silence
And shameless lips
Brick by brick
She crept under my skin
And before I knew it
She made fortresses out of dreams
I did not dare to dream
And that one fine day
When the world seemed to have stopped
Stripped off of the masks and fabric
We did not make love
We just lay there
And slept off cocooned
Nothing ever felt so much like home.

Thunder ...

There is thunder in loving you
A whole new galaxy
Of elated nerves
A total absence of anything moral
Or mortal
Lack of shame and innocence
A ravishing era of ignited wounds
Flesh of screaming gasps
Some permanent entity
Burning with a fire so pure
It is cleansed
It is spotless
It is forever.