Trade

Let’s trade

Let untamed entities gamble

For now this is no sin

For now this is the only solace

For now this is the erred Knight,

battling with a salacious sword

kept in scabbard-like soul.

For now let me be brave

and toss my being.

Let me shoot the moon with

closed eyes

Let my tempted fortune fly.

Flying is all I seek.

Sinking is all I have.

Let me squander all that I have gathered. For now I need you.

Now I bob for an escape

For now save my grace. 

For now

Let’s trade

Beneath these white sheets.

Sheer swap.

I bare my body. You show your soul. 

Reappear?

If anyone out there is listening, I swear on the dripping nectar within my two legs that I wanted you more. I wanted to never let you go. The winters, chills, the dewdrops, those dark woods, empty halls, secret corridors, frozen backseat of my car, maligned streets and all those shameless eventides. They are, the clinchers. The testaments of my need. The names and frames I shot at you, the selfhood I made you conquer, the agreement we had was heavy, they impeded me for life. And here I am chasing the vagrant. 

The relic carries an alias now. But I still seek you, wanderer. The pages of my torn inky log, one with songs and verses and rhymes and lyrics, one where I hid you, one where I miss you, one where you are needed to be, one where I am burning. 

Reenter, stranger. Hark back to me. Reappear in my filthy poetry. 

Was she a queen?


Her words were untamed,

so was she. 

She had banters on lips,

And kisses in lyrics.

Timeless,

her cheeks never aged, 

Never could she be caged. 

She was no fair face

But her eyes were solace,

Her body was scarred

Not her heart. 

She had no fairy blondes was yet

Magical like a wand

No toned hips, 

Could dance on her tips. 

Her locks were no tangled ones.

Carried threadbare, no, no puns. 

She rarely could manage mascara.

She never had a tiara. 

She was nothing,

Never like a queen. 

Never had.

Never been

A price paid 

Nights, when my cigarettes burnt. 

Nights, with my moon in grief.

Nights, when my sheets went cold. 

Nights, with my pillows lost. 

Nights, when my poems bleed. 

Nights, where heart misleads. 

Nights, with swollen lips. 

Nights, with ugly dreams. 

Nights, with no mornings. 

Nights, in trembling memories. 

Nights, bruising my soul. 

Nights, when I saw you foul. 

Nights, with a famished body. 

Nights, where angels got evil. 

Nights, when I wander alone. 

Nights, when my demons also moan. 

Those were the nights I got in return.

 

A theory called Fire


Fire is an interesting theory. It establishes an intense relationship between heat and light, graced with aroma and burns. Fire is feeble, fire is ferocious, fire is free, fire is fettered, fire is fling, fire is to finish. 

The other night of burning lemongrass in ‘that’ room, two souls too burnt. With a cigarette between her fingers and scotch in his blood, they spoke a language none could fathom. Shamelessness wrapped the flames on a rug. The illuminating orb of a night sky coyly hid behind a white gossamer of clouds. The dimly lit hallway heard all those soft vulgar whispers when clavichordist gently striked the metal blade strings. Soothing were those sizzles, so was the melody. Smoke rose above and scotch gulped down. Lemongrass faded till he lifted her to bedstead. Candles could melt no more, tinder bodies would instead. That dimly lit chamber was plundered and left poorly moonlit. The only source of light, the only treasure of heat, the only emission of soot was the fire residing on the junction of two inebriated skins. He looked at her with his molten copper eyes. Her lips adorned with Arabian tobacco. His chest in dusky smoke. The waning moon was dancing it’s way, on her eyes and his bare shoulders. The following night smouldered until moon reached the window in hallway. And when darkness seeped into the deadliest and the deepest part of room, unison devoured all. It left some sore burns, poisonous blisters and fatal after-effects. 

Nights burn, bodies burn, love burns, whole world burns in clicks with blazing flames or otherwise. Burns are supposed to be blister-inducing, why then burning love is desirous?

One Moment 


Just one moment
Just one moment

All that happen’d in a moment 

A moment,

So profound, that ev’n prayers tarry’d

Comets clash’d on junction of souls 

A spiced rose consign’d a crime 

Faint zephyr dagger’d yarn 

All that happen’d in a moment

A moment, 

So betraying, that Lord decrown’d his Bishop

For, vulgar vixen’s vengeance 

And the palace burnt for ten-decades 

Now, rul’d by gloomy gnashing Keres 

All that happen’d in a moment

A moment, 

So bathetic, that emotions shower’d like a falling leaf from banyan 

Mawkish lilies stood quietly 

Clouds carry’d abundant darkness 

Sobs of water swell’d rain blotches 

All that happen’d in a moment

A moment, 

So incomplete, that canvas want’d those colours no’more 

Metal strings be strik’d by clavichordist no’more 

Words refus’d to adorn letters of love 

Lyrical banters to lost pleasantries 

All that happen’d in a moment

A moment, 

So dedicat’d, that thorns had submission of petals 

Shore screen’d what waves own’d 

Sun saber’d moon’s loyalty 

Eyes bow’d only for beloved’s homage 

All that happen’d in a moment

A moment, 

So aphrodisiacal, that chastity cry’d for filthy beastlike 

Greedy carcass ach’d for fires 

Soul slip’d to bewitch’ng Tempest 

Vows of virtue frolic’d to amorous melodies 

All that happen’d in a moment

All that happen’d in a moment 

All that happen’d in a moment 

All that happen’d in a moment 

Discovering a new world

World, a place so vast. A place which can embrace us, our emotions, our lives in whole. A place which I discovered in my words. A place, beholding me, wrapped in my words, carefully not to hurt those cracked walls. Word-love for me was always a hefty concept to fathom. A love so great that it ended up being ungrateful to my innermost. I thereby usher in, with words in this world.