Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Return


Hello BlogSpot. Bet you are happy, you have me now. My new lappie has no doc, like my lappie has no dog. So, am here, filling you with my spit-cum, almost lotus-scented, depending upon my mood. I do not like being manipulated and here you might say, I am here because I need you and not vice versa; nevertheless it is not a situation I am comfortable with or visualized even, so you can expect me to be gone as soon as I am done.

The last few thousand zombie years have been shrouding my calm mind and I am split, divided, scattered; I am looking for my doppelganger, the one who is my better self, the self I aspire to be. I feel better when I am here, when I am Me and not the mutilated, acidic by-product of your violent, heartless society, with its intricate network spewing venom of human relationships, loving thy neighbours or Paulo Coelho mouthfuls of well meaning, self righteous strange beings.

I split open the veil with my sword of the Silver Knight!

Elaine, Elaine, get down from the fucking plane.

They are chasing you with multi-coloured extensions of straightened mane.

Pure gold, heavy feathers would stick out from your butt, black and smoke would jump on your eyes and colored beads would dote your eye-lashes.

My little monkey, would you like the circus dawn?

Would you like to sweep away the few strands of your grey? I kiss them as they sway.

Let me gather you in my yellow fevered arms of steel, and make you a nice new deal.

I shall make tea with warm green hues, you would sip them in nude.

I shall wipe your skin clean, until it tingles and your bums are baboon red.

I shall lather your hair soft and watch the colors drain away.

It is my world now and here are we.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

MORON

M O R O N!

I fill up my days with several chores,
Get zombied by the thunderous roars;
Nope, not yours.
The Rain washes off the muck,
Each and every time.
It renews, it loves, it spares lives.
The skeleton of a burnt tree,
In black and white photographs, I see;
Terrible, beautiful, painful art,
Never fails to give me a start.
Yet, amidst the cozy dignity, passion for free,
I yearn, I turn, I see thee.

Friday, May 27, 2011

Yellow Cadillac 3

‘As if such a thing were possible’, Stella rolled with laughter on her feathery white bed.
The bright orange book lay flat down on its words.
No wonder Marquez’s name screamed out more than the title of the book hesitantly printed at the bottom. ‘Love in the time of Cholera.’
No. She wouldn’t read it. At least not tonight.

So close, yet so far; so many times, yet they missed, yet again.
The last bullet hissed, missed, sun-kissed strands of Medusa rare,
Droplets of fire fell on the shoulders bare.
Elaine, I care.
The whisper shot through her brain, for a change.
Startled, she broke her reverie deranged.
Arched back on the feathery bed, she screamed,
‘One penny or two’
Elaine, BOO!

Trickles of blood like rapidly spreading cells appeared on her bare mid-riff.
Cold leisurely licks cleaned them while the skin started caving in with fresh wounds.
Ugly bite marks decorated her stretched skin.

White bed, red bed, white bed, red bed,
Elaine sat on her white cane armchair on the sunny and sandy beach and tore off the petals from a wild flower.

The old yellow Cadillac waited at a respectable distance.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Filthy

Wash the muck away please.
Both the seen and unseen.
Scrub it clean.
Kill the scream.
Do not try to make me cream.
Burns my throat and eyes with steam.
Take the red away from my dream.
Esteemed Highness.
Fagots and stolen life breaths.
Tonight's end, It states.
At the shore of the rotten river, It mates.
Fishing the gargantuan piranhas with flesh baits.
Open your mouth and puke.
This whole island, just nuke.

Friday, May 20, 2011

Shrugged

Scatterbrained, if you do not write, you shall die;
Such, the inevitable Cronos lied.
Buried and dug, rolled in the cozy rug,
It bothered, it shrugged,
On a lonely night, mugged,
Just short of rape, for the illuminated shade forbade.
The Perpetrator hideous, stale and impotent.
Torn, bruised and cut,
She woke up with the thrust.
Silly smiles pasted on swollen lips,
Gathered seeds with finger tips.
No matter how, no matter what,
Her belly's skinny, her womb shut.
Licked her mouth, found her feet,
Cartwheeled on the deserted street.
Black as coal, glimmering shield,
Her gaze congealed.

Torn, bruised and cut,
She woke up with a fresh new mighty thrust.
The form was heavy, the lights were out,
The breaths were muddy, the taste was stout.
And when it was just about, the lights were back,
The seeds were scattered, wasted in frozen haste.
Doleful smile pasted on swollen lips,
Frantically gathered the seeds with finger tips.
Spread her thighs, stuffed her insides,
Held her knees to her chest.
Black as coal, glimmering shield,
Her gaze congealed, on the starry field.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Moon

Moon chewed on sandalwood paste, dry.
Nerves itched on the creep that patted the thigh.
Come hither, come see, zero fee, zero fee.

She stared through the corner of her sight;
Halo almighty, she muttered under her mocking breath,
Spit on the speck that flew the nest.
Vodka dry, vodka dry, the bastard snatched her bottle with haste.

My nightmare yet again, paled me the other night,
Moon had shared with the man who could be Knight.
He rolled his eyes and threw up his arms.
Only if I had a sword! O why didn't you slay!
I had taught you the tricks, my way!

Do this, do that.

Shut the fuck up, she screamed inside.
This, the ultimate graveyard,
Could finally be free of the steady stream of visitors whims.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Turtle

On the greenest part of the water were a few stepping stones which felt cold under her feet.
Nimble-toed, Nisha crept up behind the huge brown turtle and splashed into the water, startling it and squealing with silent peals of infectious laughter.
Her white cotton dress stuck to her, wet and red at places where the blood showed against her thin skin from the impact of the fall.
The poor turtle scampered away with Nisha in hot pursuit of it, into the clear blue sea. The turtle vanished out of sight soon, some place deep, where the sunlight got diffused and played heartbeats with Nisha's deaf ears.
She tried laughing again. This time, the cold, languid water filled her insides with a gurgling sound that not even other humans with voices could make. Her pretty petite legs beat against the water with a violent rhythm that she was so fond of.
For the first time in her life, sounds filled her head with lights so brilliant that it almost blinded her. Nisha kept her eyes forced open till the time the colors exploded inside her head. Her mouth formed a word that as usual had no sound.
M O R O N.