War of words

War of words are fought

Me and you never fight

Our words do…they strike

They bleed…they lose…they win.

But me and you never fight.

Pacts of pleasures  are signed

Me and you never bond

Those breaths confide…those bodies

Confess…those moments sealed.

But me and you never bond.

Love is the convict trialled

Me and you never sin.

Love does…love condemns…

Love infects…love kills.

But me and you never sin.

Me and you like little guinea pigs

Never live a life of our own

I wish we could fight,

I wish we could make love,

I wish we could sin.

Oh ! Eve…wait no more…

Relish the forbidden fruit…

Let the gods burn in envy…

For not being born in flesh and blood !

Those letters…

Those letters…letters to my love…letters to my soul…I write them each night…waken from half baked sleep…with doped eyes…under the dim red zero…my pen running away from those questions I wish to ask and fingers aching for the answers I wish to confess…the night never dries the ink…dark…dark blue ink that tastes like her sweat…days always hung loosely on her wax shape…I curse them to drop down…she had started with the letters…wrote them…rolled them…then whispered those written words in my ears…I wonder how my beloved writes now…six feet under!...I write…did I?...or did I tear them off?...these letters…I tear them off…my sleep…let me sleep…letters can wait…let me sleep!

THE JOURNEY

Trains are fascinating creatures.

For searching eyes, they are arrivals.

For tears, they are departures.

It starts, takes its pace, maintains,

Shifts, whistles, stops.

It crosses lands; some lonely,

Some crowded, some green, some brown.

Its view always fixed, never strays

And when it does, ends with those big headlines !

Deserts, mountains, coasts, forests

What difference does it make ?

For the train follows tracks…parallel tracks,

Which doesn’t end, jo chalte rehen…chalte rehen.

Seated in a corner,

feeling the reverse wind outside,

only one question  ponders my idle mind;

My fellow traveller! Where you heading to?

You the mental, I the mental

You the mental, I the mental

The world, our asylum.

You had your dose of sanity

But am all alone in the shock room,

Relishing this wooden block,

Ready to be switched ‘on’.

My love ! hear me, take me away,

Before they erase you in me.

Before they cure me of your memories

The red and white tablets promised

Me those singular nights,

Those colourless dreams.

My love aged with the wrinkles of hope.

Buzzzz! Am ‘on’, my ears screeching,

Full of voices, my teeth tearing apart the wooden flesh.

My world, my white castle of love and karma,

Brought down by the electron cannons.

I stand on an unknown land,

Some barren land of broken dreams,

Bitten and chewed by those milky white cows.

They look upon me with pity,

Their belly’s filled with medical reports.

The buzz stops,

Silence filling inside me

Like those thick fags of ganja.

These days my life is among the plagued cows,

But at nights I hide those red and white tablets

And somewhere inside me,

Small white bricks align back again!  

Vicinity of reality

The vicinity of reality

Never stretches out wide.

It narrows my view,

To the flesh I hate and

The lives I love.

The short vacuums of days and nights,

Filling itself with words and lies.

Words amuse me with their stories,

Lies teach me not to trust those stories.

My world, it seems, have grown smaller and sober

But worms in my body have replicated,

One from another, another from other.

These windows, locked but transparent windows,

Some won’t let me in and some do.

I wish I could unlock them all

Just to see the color, the texture,

The dim reddish light and then the mirror.

Am here! In my house of morbid dreams,

I wait with an open window,

Gazing at this world of shrinking reality

And my body of crawling confusions.

Sea Monster

Her painful blue eyes

Seeking my depths.

These insecurities in which I dwell,

For my self mutilates my soul.

The tunnel of salvation cuts

Deep through the mountains of guilt.

She muted with her tears,

Screams with her silence,

Melts in the fears of my craving other.

Yet she draws her fragile fingers

Over my panting chest while

I go deep in her, In those

Orgasms of infinity

I dwell, like the sea monster, in the depths.

Fear me not, am just a monster,

A monster, dead before death!

Poison for my soul

I live in a cage. A cage of animals, a cage of talking parrots, a cage of chained youth…my breaths are measured and  taxed…my cries are torn apart like dry leaves from a fruitless tree. The branches of thought scraped with the sins of my past…guilt parched and tattooed…blood like the thick sap carrying germs that infect my heart…dark, straight strands of hair like shadows of dancing palm trees.  My body is poisoned…poisoned with hate…my soul is poisoned…poisoned with love and I stand tall…changing myself with seasons…death…axe me down…cut me into pieces…”me quemo”

A switch for my mind

I need a switch for my mind

To “on” and “off” myself…my thoughts

I need a switch for my mind

To be in control

To cry when I need to

To laugh when I want to

I need a switch for my mind

To shutdown…to restart…

To format…to defragment…

I need a switch for my mind

To design my own dreams

To say “yes” when I want

To say “no” when I don’t

My mind doesn’t have a switch

Am helpless…am vulnerable…

Am affected…am hurt…

Am ignored…am loved…

Am hated…am alive…am dead. 

The night, the space

The night, the space…

Like the abyss of my mind.

Darkness feeding on me…

Unmerciful…licking my cheeks

With the cold breeze.

She is waiting…for me…just for me.

Those eyes opening to nothingness

those eyes…wide open.

Am here…devour me…

into that space…that voidness…

where we will be one…a whole.

Oh light !!! he comes near…

spreading his white wings…

my love…oh poor my love…

hides behind me…

he comes close, he comes close

penetrating me…my darkness…my love.

she returns from her palace

She returns from her palace,

After her daily chores

She unties her hair, washes her face

With water running down her cheeks which

Complaints of not being pampered.

The night gets more dark, with thick blanket covering our body.

We make love…she doesn’t smell of designer perfumes

But of garlic and onion….

Her lips don’t taste of strawberries

But of salt, salt of her toil.

As we both lay, as snakes in a glass jar

Her tears roll down my shoulder,

I never ask her the reason,  

As I slip into the lap of sleep

My wife, my guilt, stares at me,

unanimated, still, cold…

For some reason, that I never ask.