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..

chaotic

such a singer that owl
his eyes shine in the dark night
his fervor does not find favor with me
as I am at crossroads
all my plans in the mud

birds may symbolize freedom
I do not see a thread of it
in that owl's song
maybe I should let it sit on the crocus
or a rose or two

"the thorns would stop his singing
but the flowers would commit suicide"

marking time

standing underneath the wind chimes
I contemplate about the future
I get over my grey thoughts
as the rain no longer sounds like dirge

I think of you, feel a spark of joy
the sun sees my spilling happiness
and dispels the cold
the birdbaths sway as I find my way to you

no jaded feeling can slash me now 
your mere presence is enough
I have waited a lifetime
I can wait a few more hours

a mirage, a reality-
doesn't matter--
if one wishes for togetherness till eternity

In the chaos, I desire peace

she stands there wearing strange socks
speedy recovery from a frivolous illness
looking at the surroundings
I almost have an apocalyptic vision

the inklings of that echoes in my literary works
gnarled roots do not go with healthy poppies
such a weird thought, 
a passing fancy of desiring thorns.

with an audible sigh,  
I dread her entry into the teens
thirteen going on thirty
I go blue in the face thinking.

"she standing in the midst of chaos-
such an apt epilogue for the goings in my mind"

dance of freedom

crazy emotions dance with glee
a shadow of childhood is glimpsed
I can't play a martyr-
not to you, a complete stranger now
why are you preaching like a seer?

I am alone maybe, not lonely-
why wonder what secret makes me go-
why are you astounded by my laughter?
remember, it is the steel in me
that you never could see.

"I will not be a prisoner of the past
while the future shines like a diamond"

Reflectivity

such a tease in that mirror

with hypnotizing eyes

no gimmick there
just that the flesh has a mind of its own
it only listens to lust

such a torture for both our brains
but I am not going to chicken out
my mind trains itself discipline
it is not uniform thought
i am no machine

"let me rub lotion on me
a mundane task in the river of emotions"

what reaches out...does anyone know?

Keith Haring 

my eye catches the heart in you
I bend to it
there is no limit to hold those parts
I want everyone out of my way
our way gives on to east lane

what if no one believes?
there is still a grain of truth 
it is in that straight line
yet randomly held by a thin thread
sound is but silent

if only your heart was a painting,
I would be in it
delineated yet distinct
you watch from afar
aloof to all but yourself

"that thud in your heart echoes in mine miles away.
miles away."