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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Yellow Cadillac 2

The Jet landed on a stranded net
Of an island, faraway.
Crashed, was more like it.
It's tail in pieces, it's nose dived into a yellow beach.
Screech, halt, screech.
Fifteen new Cadillacs surrounded the mess.
All yellow, pale.

Behind the strange trail, stood at a distance an old yellow cadillac.

Somehow the plane did not burst into flames, but the passengers were hurt and in tears.
300 odd ones of all shapes, sizes and years.
None mattered, but one.

Elaine.
Elaine.

Get down from the fucking plane.

The people spilled over to the sands and were stunned.
Gunned, more like it. Pun, understand.

Elaine, too. She staggered and almost flew like a little swallow up in the skies.
Run, Elaine , run.
As fast as your tiny feet can carry you, run, baby run.

Elaine with slow, steady steps crossed the insurmountable boundary of the pale.

The fifteen pale yellow Cadillacs blew up into fumes, carrying the debris of a huge Jet and 299 odd people into the burning air.

Elaine, I care.

Yellow Cadillac

Of all the dreams that were potent, balanced and besotted,
drove a yellow Cadillac on a highway that were glued to no sides;
A chain of blinking lights and the roads hauled up to the skies and back.
Along the spin of one such road, ran a steep staircase.
Once up, it swirled with the turns that led straight to a distant shore.
Rocky, green, but water all-right.
The water that started as mossy green, nice and cool,
spread it's huge blue and white wings and set the wind on the sails' tails.


Elaine!
Summer's here.
Let's set sail on the yacht as pretty as your stupid hat.

Whoa! Drinking chilled beer?

Yoho! Yes, of-course, and your red wine too.

And what about the yellow cadillac?

What about it?

What if it comes just when we leave?

It wouldn't. It is just a figment of your silly imagination.
Did you pop your pills?

Which ones?

Ah. No. Nothing.

What?

Nothing my dear, we're gonna make love. You don't wanna make babies, do you?

Nope. Ofcourse not. But we can make love here.
Why sail? What if my yellow Cadillac hails?

Pack your bags, where are the pills?
Come, let's go. Right at this moment.

No. No. I gotta wait.

Elaine! My baby, my dear. There are no yellow Cadillacs.
They were all taken apart while you slept through the years.
Come, now, let's go.
Summer's here.

Yellow Cadillac-
Elaine, I am at the steepest turn,
I can see the run.
Do not believe.
Come back, I am almost there.

I do not care.
Don't you see?
I am in the middle of the high sea.
I slept while they tore you down.
I saw it with my very eyes, through darkness profound.

Come back. Am here.

Yet again

No. Yes.
Yes. No.

Now am in splits...finally...
Am alive again at this precise moment.
If I was holding a pen, I would twist it tight and it would make silent marks...

A blank page, and this is all I need to stare at to decipher.
Like Blood IS Red.
It hurts when I pinch.
Light hides when I squint.
Can feel the face when I smile.
Sense it when I half-open my mouth.
And several other SUCH mundane things.

All of it, Me.
Whatever that is.

And of all things that is not me,
A bit of it is you.