Moon

Today, i attended a funeral. Not in my family, but then, what difference does it make?
They put him on the pyre to honour the sun. I saw his eyes, half open. His sky was white. His moon was black.

Magic

Under a pearl studded sky and a purple moon, they sat, wrapped around each other as if two recidivists clinging onto the only thing they had ever managed to steal. The reticent lake had never witnessed something so placid. The dew laden night flowers blushed with envy for they knew no neologies. Cession had a new meaning. The dark night watched as they poured more caresses.

My gleaming eye in her necklace reflected a stare of primal regret. My magic never worked on her. His did!

Would you like to place an order?

Woke up this morning with a red eye. Rubbed it more, like I always do. My fav kurta is not ironed. Will be late again!!

Skipped breakfast too! How mom wakes up in the morning to prepare all that for me is a fact I take for granted. Reminds me of the days when I used to get up at 2.00 am to chew salted groundnuts for dinner with a bottle of fanta. Everyone at Domino's knew me, be it for the trademark 10 rupee tip to the delivery boy or my phone number & address that they knew verbatim. That used up scooter which took me places in search of a decent eating joint only to stop at the dhaba next to the Bus Terminal where roadways bus drivers and conductors used to eat. A few constables could always be found yelling in their familiar Punjabi accent. The only place in jalandhar where you could get a 'tawe di roti.'

It's dull in the office. Bright colours but a gloomy environment. Same worn out faces in front of their bright computer screens. I never used to be an indoor person, but somehow, time managed to change that. It’s fun reminiscing all the bygones. Not always though.

So, there's too much going on in her life right now! What is too much? How do you quantify it? How does that make any difference? Or does it change the way I look at her? But why would I..look at her? Or change my way? She's fond of me. No, she isn't.

Atonal Tapestry

Endless prints on my skin
just like patterns on the ivy
unbridled at dusk
adorning the threads of my silken dreams
cradled in the arms of pearly hope
breathing my velvet vapours
beneath an erroneous sun
that dressed me up to paint me down
a naked gem art me
with a crooked mile to walk through red september
watch over my turquoise sky and orange birds, please!

Wing

The bright flower-print frock

Was wrapped and kept behind two wooden doors

She would open them every now and then

Stand in front of her mirror

Trying to shrink herself to its size

Her reflection smiling back to her

She flew with the breeze back then

Just like a candid butterfly

With wings of gold and an eternity to explore

Through a pair of sparkling watchful eyes

The dusk would rest in her bed

And the dawn would wake with her.

In the same flower print and long wavy hair

With her fragile self spread across her soft bed

With legs crossed and some pulp to engrave

She longs for just one more chance

Her little hands and vast blue sky

Another flight, and one more wing.

Mist

Beneath the Cedar's stare
stands the darkest hour
watching the bruised moon in silence
with jade woodland eyes
enrobed in the blackest velvet
she pours the meads of asphodel
and the invigorated skies weep with new-found life.

Suffused with deep colours of life
with no beginning and no end
her lips tremble to the first sip
from the rented porcelain
to forget and forgive
crisp leaves and ebony sing with her
the dissonant requiems of fainted hope

As the dawn descends
she lays on the silent earth
when the wind calls out her name
the daughter of disenchant
besieged in her fated marbled stone
waves goodbye to her red roses
and to her mist that stands guard.

Infidelity

Sat on the slippery rock and looked at the highs and lows of the eternal blue, pinioned, as if two lovers sharing their breath like a meal. The wet sand under my feet wanted me to stay. I took her hand and she taught me how to walk through her invitation. Her soft hands rested on my chest searching for all they could get. I closed my eyes and sank into her. Caressed her face and ran my fingers through her hair. We kissed hungrily.

I turned around and looked at a chapter. Infidelity, I wrote..."you forgot the black top that brought you to her", she said.

Fear

I sat on the rusted bench next to the bright yellow board with black paint, declaring its presence to me, asking me to look at it. I gazed at the wooden planks that bore the signs of punishment. They wanted to move, but they couldn't. Nearby, I could hear a tap coming to life after a few choked coughs. I licked my dry lips as I stood up and walked towards it. That's when I saw her. Three benches away, in the distance,Tall, slender. She held a small bag tightly to her chest, clenching it harder than a mother would've held her newborn. I watched in silence as she rested her chin on it. I forgot my thirst, for water couldn't quench it anymore. I decided to check out the books at the stall just to take a closer look at her. The floor where her feet graced the earth was wet with drops of water, yes, the salty one. I looked at her skin for scars of life. She had been beaten, said her nape to me. I slowly walked towards her and stood by her side. Her blank wide eyes stared at the 2 rails separated by rocks. Before I could speak, she turned to me and said "I fear reaching late just like u fear reaching early. I fear the gap between the train and the platform."

Naked

[The Curse of Unrest]

My finitudes basked in vast eclipse
bejeweled and well lit as the seed passed her fruitful lips
the restless skies were witness to her soft parade
of eyes shut tight and fingers coming to grips
drenched we were in red wine
with her blood red ones on mine

[Umbra]

An age of innocence in sombre velvet of bliss
a look that shot through the hay and the heavens amiss
every breath snatched between the death of birth
perched atop the fields of carnal abyss
stood the faded mist and flowers so jaded
Born was she, yet I was so naked.

Twist

Turquoise moon
Stain my ivy leaves
Hold thy seven autumns and my widow
Your wolves silent among my sheep

I am he that vanquished semblance
arousing spectres of forgotten portraits
Dance with my pale red statues
rest your dry eyes on my wet plate

"Smile with me,my pungent jasmine"
through cobwebbed drapery where I swoon
Weave me a twist that drenches my shores
under the horned diana, I dwell.

Rain

Through the shades of grey and white
watches a shadowed dimension so plush
that stirs the leaves of poetic solace
and whispers a verse to the robes of dust
Stigmata still stains her cheeks
atop the parapets where lonely she sits
naked,she sways to the feather's fall
in an overthrow of the soft woven light
Small prisms, like a parting gift
sniff orchids that opened after dusk
feed on her wide spread grin and wait
for it's the fall of the uncaged

Traitor

Two pairs of jeans hang on the cabinet that houses my books, cds, cassettes that I bought back in jalandhar. Some empty DVD cases which have been opened more than a dozen times on a weekend peep out as if looking for their occupants.

Me and my brown chair, legs crossed next to the monitor, a keyboard with half the alphabets missing due to continuous typing, my long lost airtel internet bill, a webcam that's indifferent to my presence, a dark-chocolate wrapper with some fragments of brown heaven stuck on its edges, pairs of socks that don't stink anymore, a towel that wipes my black heart every morning, a bottle of water to douse the fire in my belly, a headset to bring the distant ones closer, a recently used black marker - xylene and toluene free..it says!

I wonder if i'll ever need humans.

The first breath

The curtain falls when she leaves the stage

Tranquility…She gasps! But the void prevails

Through the corridors of malice and pretense she walks

Where the dark effigies once wrote a paean on the peach pillar

And temptation weaved a labyrinth of sins

Unchained doors celebrate her arrival

To open, they close her wooden edifice

The departure of her white mascara

Trails down her lucent gown

Whilst the fragrance of her jasmine vapours stings the air

She turns around to look at the scars of faith

The regal baits of flashlights call her

Her hand atop her mired feet

Her emerald eyes and pink sunshine

A carpet so hoary, a dais so high!

Coalesce

Through the diaphanous curtains of mist
On the deserted road he stood
Gazing at his insolent parallels
Aloud, his Embodiment of impudence watched.

The leaves silently fell
To cover the trail of his footsteps
A path unknown he walked
For nowhere else invited him.

He spread his arms wide
And hugged his perpetual solitude
He was searching for solace
Midst his countless contusions

He wanted them to macerate
To subside and depart
But only if he knew
He was walking towards them, more of them.

before merging with the grey...

The intrepid rain drops on my flesh
and washes away my unforgiven
whilst the wind floods my hair
and blows away the insignificant
to recuperate my heavenly losses
for this forsaken eve had taken refuge
from the perpetual pummels of time
into the realms of the ravening dark

Her cherubic wings fluttered
For the heavens had promised her agony
Through the twilight and thorns that serveth the vile
And tides of the restive faith
Like a proud unfallen star
She still bejeweled the skies
For the tempest assured her a flight
Above the reachable

The golden dawn bows
For the queen of the ethereal walks
Past the midgets of scorn
and the hymns for the bygones
She pours drops of pride
From the deepest vials of gold
On her damned white gown
for her yellow moon had a promise to keep.

Evade the obtrude

I sang all the way to the office. The drive was pretty good even though I had expected a lot of traffic. There’s a new face in the office. He looks a bit confused though. We need more female employees in here, for there's no equilibrium here. Same inflated egos everyday, same boss who calls himself an 'entrepreneur' and scratches his butt in public, same air-conditioned prison with no signs of life inside. This place needs women.

I just picked up the newspaper. The headline in Delhi Times, 5^th July: Can Marriage be a punishment for rape? Reminds me of the endless heated arguments with my friends and acquaintances during graduation days. Times group likes to ask rhetorical questions in its newspaper. It’s like killing someone who’s already dead. I remember how my classmates refused to talk to me because of my pro-women stance on a few occasions.

What are we trying to implement here? The problem or the solution? Isn’t capital punishment a way out of a demented and worthless life of a deranged and diseased mind that remains unmoved by the cries and tears of the one who’s being ruined?

And then I get to hear the two-wrongs-don’t-make-a-right theory by our pseudo altruists. Is it really that simple? What’s the newspaper got for us today? A 24 year old woman with years of hard work, schooling, entrance exams, friends, joys, sorrows, graduation, mushy moments, relatives, commitments, fallouts, intelligence, opinions, achievements, love, family, growing up, laughter beaten down by iron rods and dumped on the road because a few men couldn’t handle alcohol and a porn movie!

In all walks of sanity, ordering a rape victim to marry the convict is a punishment for the victim and not for the convict. It’s a way of telling the victim that you cannot get away with rape alone, there’s more humiliation and pain left for you.

There has to be punishment for those who wrote such a law and passed it. It’s time I step away from this computer before I lose it and let profanity flow.

7:11

It was a boring Sunday as usual. Woke up and half an hour later, I was hammering keys on my keyboard. Suddenly remembered I had downloaded Quake 3 Arena, the greatest of all computer games. Downloaded some technical death metal. It reminded me of the gig I was supposed to attend the same evening. It was 6 pm when I took a quick second shower of the day. I'm always starving at the end of the show, so this time, decided to do something about my hunger before I even hit the ring road.

Some mutton seekh rolls did it for me. Cafe Morrison, South Ex was the venue. I punched some keys on my cell and informed a friend about the gig. Was running low on balance so decided not to call her up. Rs. 26, it said. Me and my friend finally reached the place. The place looked quite congested from outside. We found our way up as the overzealous bouncer hushed away all the people who were just standing there and making some last minute frantic calls to some friends. I could see the people inside from the glass door and it didn't look good. As we entered, a guitar placed under a glass slab was right under my feet. Innovative, I thought!

We walked in as some plastic smiles and curious eyes checked us out. The sound check had not even begun, just like always. It did not take long for me to understand the kind of crowd the bands had attracted. I checked out my surroundings and hoped that this gig won't disappoint me. Hellbound harmony started the show and I must admit, I wanted to punch the vox. Some sharply dressed female clones were poised in front of me. One of them, sure had something against my stomach for she couldn't stop elbowing it. My elbow your tummy, she thought. My arms, your hearse, I thought!

Every time she ran her hand through her hair, something happened to my eyes. But I decided to bear it for I knew, once the real metal started rolling, the bimbos would be gone. But that's the tragedy for there was no metal! I was right...they were with the band!

I patiently waited for Alter Ego for I was disgusted already by the sound inside that air-conditioned-chokehold. They played a few good songs by RATM but something was still missing. It turned out to be the most pathetic gig I had ever attended. Now, I just wanted to get out of there. What way to end a day I already hate. Me n my friend drove back home discussing other bands and gigs we had attended. He dropped me at my place and the moment I touched the main gate, the lights went out. A huge grunt came from the transformer near the park. I wanted to laugh but I decided otherwise. The inverter gave up too and I slept for 2 hours. My Sunday ended where it had begun.

Befringe my hatred

From the endless Chasms in my head

Spills out the perpetual grief

Of letting a thousand screams go unheard

For the indigent never makes it to the ear

And the bourgeoisie has too much to say.

Gazing at the perfection of this tyranny

Watching cowardice flourish

I want to raise my voice

And overthrow the contemptible

For time is all I have.

Sitting astride this one legged chair

Pondering has its perils

For surrounded by feigners am I

And the only one left to adorn

Is the same old condemned ME.

Our own perdition

We do not need to 'go to' hell, for it's right here. We live in a place where silent gods stand guard to protect themselves! How ridiculous would it be to have your offspring breathe in a country where men hit their women, rape, murder & then dump them like garbage, burn someone's daughter down for dowry (with the help of another woman, most of the times)....... BUT PREACH A COW!

Is hell all about famine, destitution, poverty, terrorism? Actually, we all have different definitions of hell. A person living in srinagar would tell you he's seen hell whistling past his body and piercing through another. But is that hell? Who's the one who shot that piece of metal? He's just another human who's sister was kidnapped in front of his own eyes by army jawans, probably his brother was shot down, or maybe his entire family was wiped off, or could be that he was used as a tool by another entity because the government of this country didn't use him as a tool!

We're living through a self-inflicted injury. We've created this hell. How can anyone 'go to' hell?

The view from the moon...

Unredeemed she walks away

With dew laden eyes

Drenched in blood is her soul

Her flesh bears the scars of life

Soiled is her white godly gown

For the earth is audacious

Defying the clouds of misery

The countless wounds inflicted

Beyond the veil of the visible

Lies her slender self

With marks of crime and punishment

And tears of guilt seeping through

Like waking up from an eternal slumber

Entering the rusted gates of the day

Of immortality enthroned with the crown in her hands

Far away from chaos into the perpetual depths of serenity

She lies down on a bed of lilacs that shackle her beautiful feet

Whilst the last strand of life stands guard.

For she has survived it all, the only one

The ocean jumps in joy to wash off the insignificant

Betrayal is no longer a thorn

For the walls of treachery have crumbled

And the hands of hope grieve no more

For they hold the most priceless possession.

The comforts of retribution

It's been ages since we've felt something...anything! We have become what we feared the most but we're still scared, because what we feared the most has risen to a level which we fear the most now! We all know that this is not the point where we've decided to stop. We'll go further and hence, farther in our delusions of greatness.

The question here is, WHAT do we fear the most? Our infantile feelings of personal omnipotence are helpful enough to search for the answer(s) to the above question. We fear our own breed. A farce called god was created to pacify those who never wanted to accept the truth about their fellow humans.

Who created this farce? 'The One'...for he knew, there's a point some people won't go beyond. So he limited their universe to a few holy verses and books. He then sat back and enjoyed them kill each other in the name of his gift to them.

People call me blasphemous. And who are they?

hymns for the mistress of disharmony

They talk about nihilism
How can it be true?
when the ones who talk about it
belong to my womb

A thousand years of oppression
and still an eternal life to go
Are they grateful to me
my impeccable creations?

The last of the extraneous lives
are down on their knees
for my will to forgive them
is still clandestine

You're just another famished infant
with so many tears to cry
but the rot on my chest
is just a drop more than yours.

Telepathic with the deceased...

How dark art thee!

I recommend to all the 'Exit' music from Xasthur's album - Telepathic with the deceased. Close your eyes and lose yourself to the synth for 2 minutes and 33 seconds. You shall see your darkest side in the brightest of all rooms. Turn off the lights if you wish to and atone with your lonely soul. One of the most powerful and overwhelming tunes I've ever listened to.

So many of us are not at peace with who we are and who everyone else wants us to be. Inside, our demons laugh for they flourish in our self-pity infested abyss.

Nothingness, my promise...

The voids created by possessions cannot be comprehended till you lose them and don't feel like having them back. A self inflicted misery is an easy way out of the mundane promises made to yourself, for then, you have something else to worry about.

The tyrant inside your skull is your gateway to the realms of victory and treachery. Probably that's why, the heavens decided to give you a heart so that everytime you're about to fall into a ditch, you can step back and fall into another one.

Empty is what I'm not, but filled is what I don't want you to be.

A wonderful quote....

"And what is an authentic madman? It is a man who preferred to become mad, in the socially accepted sense of the word, rather than forfeit a certain superior idea of human honor. So society has strangled, in its asylums, all those it wanted to get rid of or protect itself from, because they refused to become its accomplices in certain great nastinesses. For a madman is also a man whom society did not want to hear and whom it wanted to prevent from uttering certain intolerable truths."

An Ode to Womanhood

Enshrined within a pearl woven silhouette
she looks at the setting sun
like a goddess admiring one of her creations
reminiscing the days of yore
the zephyr kisses her flesh
and the waves imitate her hair.

She ponders into the infinity
with oceans in her angelic eyes
deep into the trenches of time
the memories as vibrant as a zither
plucking the strings of life
of love,lies,guilts and confessions.

The amber glow caresses her face
as she closes her eyes and breathes deep
sects of wind contend to flood her lungs
when her body shivers to the cool summer evening
the heavens watch her in all her grandeur
for nothing is more extravagant than her.

Of transition to the unsung melodies...

It was a normal drive to work. For the first time, I didn't see a pack of 4 cars piled up near the moti bagh flyover. I forgot to carry extra cash today. Already spent the 200 I was carrying on petrol and paid the toll from a vintage 50 rupee note. Had to be dishonest yet tactful for I was giving away a note that was half torn and held together by some cello tape. Just before the rajnigandha chowk, on the DND itself, I saw a crowd I usually don't see. A bike was down and someone had bitten the dust with it. I thanked the heavens for he was ok. He didn’t end up like my relative did.

Office is quite dull today. I have to buy an anti-glare screen for my monitor, for I can feel the prolonged hours of exposure to the screen taking the toll on my eyes.

I just can’t stop humming the tune from a computer game. It touches my soul. I strongly feel that the tune was composed keeping in mind the tastes of all the people like me. The low pitch chorus of male voices from the widely played game Halo. I can listen to it all day long. The guy I’ve known for the last 19 years is online. He just told me Halo 3 is out. I know he understands how I feel every time I hear that chorus. He finds the tune intimidating and I say “Yes, me too!” . It’s weird how we both understand what that means.

It scratches the layers of my black heart, for I associate it with death. It sounds like a bunch of friends singing an ode to a fallen comrade. It sounds like a thousand souls weeping for their loved one as if bidding farewell. The beauty lies in the fact that the chorus has no words. It sounds like the beginning and the end. That’s how grand it is.

I’m going 2 floors down to have a soft drink. I know that when I’ll hit the stairs, I’ll be humming the same tune.

The..

The god of darkness who dwelt in the underworld

The Son of Chaos, brother of Nox, father of Aether and Day

The incipit to the chapter of annihilation

The beginning and end of our corroded and weak lives

The last one, the first one, the serpent, the venom,

The consumer of exhumed remains, deity of the unholy, the robe of nocturna

The blood-red path, the aisle of the unhappy

The bringer of storm, the general of the army of the dead

The goat lord, the devourer of joy, the preacher of demise

The other side of the eclipse, the coldest fear

The sharpest blade, the thickest forest, the listener of all screams

The harshest truth, the whitest lie, the one between the angels and insects

The hunger, the lust, the sin, the disrespect

The longest sleep, the thunderous sky, the crimson rain

The enthroned, the unquestioned, the messiah

The ruthless commandment, the punisher

The savage, the butcher, the last resort

The black hearted , the angel of death

The lord of nevermore..Erebus.

Turmoil..

The 8 am rush. I'm ready for office,chewing my breakfast as fast as i can.Mom wants me to drop her near her school. Her mehndi dyed hair look beautiful. The wrinkles on her face constitute the countless days and nights of job,kitchen work,relatives,5 a.m alarms for morning walk and god knows what else. I gulp down the milk that she insists i should drink every morning before i leave.

On our way to her school, i honk to an old man. I feel guilty for he's really old. I should've stopped for him like i usually do. But something overpowers me and i don't do it. I drop mom at the community centre and watch her walk towards her school. I'm late. It's bumper to bumper at naraina. I keep driving, coz i have to.

I think about the countless things we forget and forgive when we're on the road. I watch 3 bikes and 4 cars jumping a traffic signal. I wonder why they can't wait for 2 minutes at a traffic signal.They wouldn't mind arguing for 20 minutes in case a vehicle runs into them while they're at their rossi and schumacher impersonation. It's just another day on the road. But i'm different today. I'm more aggressive today and I can feel it from within.It's overwhelming my senses.

I hit the DND flyway but i'm not doing 60-70 on the speedo. It's a 100. For some reason, i don't wish to slow down. I know the tarmac has a lot of questions for me which i can't answer.

Am in the office now, with a shirt that's half wet and a head that's heavy.

Exile

Vitrified by the curses

of a crystal woven sky

stands a feeble mortal

a vivarium,my prison!

"This is the Rubicon" says the voice

ripping apart the silence of the haunting night.

Rearmed were they

with the weapons of death

every breath choked

and the residuum left stench

for resurrected are the howls

of darkness and possession.

Day after day and night after night

we heard the reveille

when life wrapped itself under covers of fear

and armies of death marched

the mothers in taffeta

wrote an ode to their sons.

Glistening with blood

they lick their sharp claws

laminar coatings of flesh

leave the mortal souls

far away the oboe bids farewell

the obliterated joy mumbles in the night.

Gazing into the dark realms

a taste of vermicide before the eternal dissect

the yews standing still

waiting for the storm

a drop trickles down

the prisoners are free.

3rd March 2006

I lay motionless on mother earth

in a pool of blood

my sanctum in my eyes

and a prayer on my lips

for no one dares touching me

as life leaks out of my crushed legs.

Traitors are those

who watch me die

for i cooked a meal

to feed their hungry son once

they watch me losing breath

how cold can they be?

Merciless is the rubber wheel

for it knows no right or wrong

without bias it tramples

what has been thrown in it's path

Sanguinary, like a vampire

the ones i called my own were not.

Along came my sanguine companion

running out of breath yelling my name

his eyes full of tears and worry

for his loved one lay motionless

alone he lifted me in his arms

for the world was treacherous.

He drove me from one denial

to face another one waiting

for hope was a rush hour away

and my life was short

he wanted to fly but he couldn't

i wish he could.

i looked at him

he looked beautiful

i knew what was coming and he didn't

under the scorching march sun

that helpless man knocked the last door of hope

i lay there,not far from him.

The white coats n machines

struggled to revive my breath

i was drenched in blood

my end was near

the hour passed and they shook their heads

as my loved one waved his hand in despair

Those who cried for me

i thank them

i thank you god

for you gave me the worst death

i must've been close to you

to have suffered so much.....i'm far from him but with you now.

The Fallen

Flying high

with my brazen-faced assertions

ready to fight and destroy

the entire world

fear of nothing

eclipsed by my own aura

my will to think,diminishing.

out to conquer

nothing but everything

to lessen the satisfaction

for there's more

that's mine

at the speed of light

i ride.

the peach lipped girls

standing in the corner

my narcissistic unrest

compelling me to lure them

into another sin

selling their souls to me

for all that remains.

envying the lightning

for it's faster than me

to strike

and burn

without prejudice

and neglect, i wanna be her.

but look at me now

in my royal cornicle

covered with grass

and festooned with earthworms

i'm so happy

i'm resting.

Dawn of the Angry

forlorn forlorn!

who bled from thee midriff

beneath the howling stars

the mignonette smiled

through the militated heaps

of a thousand corpses.

the midwinter night

mimetic of Satan

a misanthropic breath

of a minstrel in disguise

waving a black plume

"Thou art The king of plutocracy!"

"Pogrom, I Surmise!

Pray on your knees my weak priest

in the dark precinct of your hollow faith

for the sepal shall mock

your suede clad soul

for this is the night of the Surly mistresses.”

Your smothering dark dissonant choirs

sung at the top of my punctured lungs

entice the demons of the night

summoning the ghosts of the woods

smeared with blood and enervated

Thou shalt be.

Poignant in the garden of eden

with your naked soul in your palms

edelweiss shall cover your damned self

as the prince of darkness shall descend

sprinkle thy cruets on thy wounds

for a crumpet art thou.

9Teen

And Here we are...

Half-past three in the morning.

Wide awake.

I can't get no sleep.

I only smoke weed when I need to,

and I need to get some rest

yeah, where's the sex.

I confess.

I burned a hole in the mattress,

yes yes it was me.

I plead guilty.

and at the count of three i pull back the duvet.

Make my way to the refrigerator,

one dry potato inside.

no lie, not even bread, jam,

when the light above my head went bam.

I can't sleep, something's all over me,

greasy, insomnia please release me.

and let me dream about making mad love on the heat.

Tearin' off tights with my teeth.

But there's no relief,

I'm wide awake and i'm alone.

Oh, if i could only get some sleep.

I can't get no sleep.

Cryptic Divinity

Few can fathom the perils of dangling emeralds

and a breath reminiscent of jasmines n lilacs

of lips so soft and a tongue so sweet

the sanctum of innocence and shame

she revels in her ominous guilt

of the countless masquerades

behind the laminar layers of the softest silk.

Her presence intrigues the moonlit skies

the goddess of darkness in all her beauty

walks through the woods in a black burial gown

for the darkness has pledged allegiance

to the mother of sin and the sister of genocide

resurrected have been the ghouls again

her breasts have fed the famished beasts.

Of opulent splendour she looks so pure

she weeps a deep red river

the queen of sinister urges walks to the gates

as the servants of the dark night bow down to her

the discoloured earth trembles as she walks through

as the haunting yowls of the fauna welcome her

my tenebrous vixen sculpted by Satan vanishes into the cloak of mist.

Nights of Yore

What we see in our inanimateness

looks so real

for the eyes like to nurture the illusion

that everything's alright

the facade looks so beautiful

dangerous yet mystic.

An imperceptible sign

of the coming storm

invisible to the eyes of hope

for the eerie silence is golden

endowed with life

before the chaos begins.

The vision spans

as far as the albatross flies

into the endless time

and back to the dirge of darkness

where whispers are screams

the comfort n convenience of lonliness.

A self-infested tragedy

accommodated by

the painful convexity

tamed and loved by the mind

pointing to the stars where the settlers have arrived

and the albatross still flies.

Gifts from the possessed

she's bruised and demented

i hear her shadows moan

for the times i've tied myself

to the delights of the flesh

sucking the mordant nectar

from the sweet pits of lust

i know how i've wanted her

an inept with words.

from the trickling sweat

and the dark desires

she's buried in my mind

everytime i take the sinful knife

to undo her shame

and sink my teeth into heaven

drinking the last drop of love

and licking my lips...for more.

like the dusk she descends

when the wolves come out

and howl away to the moans

of the vile lips of mist

kissing her body,more n more

the heat of our sins

amidst the silent woods

i let my vices flourish.

as the breeze caresses

our exhausted souls

for wrapped like a python is she

to my weak breath

out to embolden me

enticing me adroitly

carving on my naked flesh with her teeth

the thirst for more shall reign.

Orange dust,Silicon and Asphalt

4:14 pm (IST), a 500 ml coke bottle that I carry everyday is filled up to the brim with water. The dusty table flaunts concentric shiny circles making it evident how some ceramic with tea/coffee had rested on it a few days back. The sleek black computer cabinet stands like a dummy with a blue LED being the only sign of life! A torn up packet of biscuits rests under the monitor. Just behind the monitor is the window that faces another office. I am sitting on the chair of a fired employee. An uneasy feeling creeps up every time I touch ‘her’ keyboard.

I take a look around and see sharply dressed clones gazing endlessly at their bright computer screens. I’m the only one who’s dressed in casuals, every single day. I miss the laptop which had near about 1000 of my favourite songs. It’s dull here. It’s like a one night stand, where the next morning is worse than the night before.

The only time when I’m happy is when I pay the 18 rupee toll at the DND and fly into infinitum . It looks eerie and distant yet beautiful at night. Before stepping back into the city traffic, I breathe as much as I can.

Its 7 pm. Everyone’s about to leave. Life waits for me a kilometer away and I don’t wish to be late.