fly away

perched on the precipice 
of uncut emotions
the delicate yearning never stops

the petals may bloom
rivulets may fall into the river
but the blues will not leave me alone

such a hopeless case
however much I might do
the Satan of bad words follow me always

that tiny bit of positive energy
is the umbrella that keeps me safe
from the sharpness of your clownish tongue

"why should I accept the negative?
why should you even offer it?"

not just a comma

emptiness
what of it, why act on it?
just a state of blankness
held by silent tears 
which dry before they fall

the child curls into a comma
questing for loving warmth
but the cold cobbled track is not saintly
and angels offer no solace

that finger is my cue
to stay as silent as I can
before science helps crack my memory
the pebbles hurt my bare feet
while I wrestle with my empty thoughts

"silence bangs hard within my mind
while I hold on to the cloth pegs"

all in a day's work....

Action Figures by Edith Vonnegut

I emit anger
and look like a clown
half naked with a vacuum cleaner

still it does not instill fear
in my kids,
rather burst into fits of laughter

they throw their fleece jackets,
now buck naked
they fly around my head

sound of broken glass
fill my head
I tumble drunkenly

slick like a seal,
one kid hugs me
another smiles gleefully

"our cat has a wounded look
why?
because it has missed all the fun"

random words

I need
I need to spread my wings
I must not let the clouds to host in my heart
I don't want the state to rescue me
who needs a patron
when one has oneself?
the ticking will go on 
to measure my depth of misery
I will spend my day in inducing humility

but why?

you may dance now
with as many as you want
my heart will race to catch you
and you will be back
where you belong


 "the question is where do you really belong?"

beyond the wall

wishing for sunshine
I put my clothes to dry
in the belief that my wish would be granted

a normal, mundane life
is it too much to ask?
a new shelter for my dreams

dedicated to my task
I sing tunelessly
with a resolve with no sustenance

should I wait for a revolution
for things to turn my way
with a design of my dreams

ultimately, when I do review my life
I won't be able  to see the war
you win, or I win
we both lose on the humanity front

killing innocents for what?

may you burn in hell
killer of children
you took away their choice to live
you ignored the panic in their eyes
you did not listen
you did not talk
you, as always just killed
how can you get high on blood and gore
that too of innocent children
no sweat flowed from you
only bullets, only bullets

yet you forgot
if you snag even one life
thousands will rise to incinerate you
you deserve nothing less for diffusing the stars

dusk is but a chimera

that spacecraft is waiting
planets are aligned
let me tread slowly into space
but first I must tangle with you

call me a lunatic or a loser if you must
you are aware I have to spread my wings
one of my endeavors to explore the beyond
leaving behind my very own angel

I am forever spinning into dreams
whatever you say, I won't sway
I will come back someday
born on a Christmas day

"that crowd is akin to shroud
I wish for silence to be loud"

soulfully I stare at nothing....

what chains tie her
what deranged mind did this
the haze in the mind chains her, 
the strain has almost deranged her
lying there, she thinks of filet
hunger does not allow to feign pride

enflame, her eyes burn
she shivers wishing for her cape
thoughts of rescue help sustain
while we exchange glances
she will not cave in
that is not an option at all

my story is all so false,
she chose to lie on the bright floor
surrounded by floral walls
to be photographed as a victim
of domestic violence
or maybe something else

"words turn around the mind.
helplessly we give in"

spirality

Bond of Union, 1956, by M. C. Escher 

your gaze drops from mine
and my skin burns
in that breeze we both slowly disintegrate
the splendor of the gathering palls

I re-collect the scattered sounds
and put them in my wallet
you are bent double
your pain does rattle in a staccato

in the contemporary world
it is so plain that no one is able
to understands the import 
of being a secular

I and you entwined brokenly 
in the debris of religious bigotry

soulful lingering

in the highway
subtle is a misnomer
fresh palate hints of sex
toasty thrill of lingering soul
yields but a mix of emotions
speeding tends to the palpitating heart
I burn in the darkness
in the deep stark night
something flickers
everything so silent
except you sitting by the candles
sound of your breathing drives me insane

I close my eyes
my mind travels again on that highway
yet nothing can take away the subtle whiff  
of lingering sex. not while you sit so still..