sky-scrappers

Picture Credit: Scott Wyden

I hang from the sky
invisible to all
holding a manifest
from out there
may you all see light
(I know I can't)
in the smoky morning
sun hides as usual
within the folds of the clouds

"let us flock together, let us all fall,
let us measure the depth of miserable darkness"

jingling chains

turquoise blue stones on my wrist
are at home
I jingle silvers chains that hold them
sheen of green peeps through blue
when a butterfly flutters nearby
I let it sit on my bracelet
an antique, one of the legacy of heroes maybe
those heroes who were really sea pirates

"let the guitar play you"

facade

Banquet Scene with a Lute Player by Nicolas Tournier, 1625

my eye glass made my eyes pop out
in the dinner table
everyone is doing their own thing
but I have to find my eyes
not to see better
but to have a presentable look
I can't have that pirated facade
we all look like the prisoners that we are
trapped in the eternal vacuum
of trapped souls

"her lute, it ensnares me, ridicules me,
and also lets me evolve"

MAC drives him nuts

Picture Credit: Walter Parada

in the labyrinth of computer peripherals
he stays awake
chasing the sleep away
sleep wants to sizzle in him
deep into the inner nakedness of his soul
(what you see here is just a projection)
those tiny hairs on his body stand out
fully charged yet so sleepy
still he chases it all away
with single mindedness
those keys interest him more
the screen holds him in the throes
the reflection in the mirror sizzles for him
red silken sheets behind him tell us a sensual tale

"let us leave it on him to finish it for us
while he waves it at us as a red flag"

guise of a smile

those vibes emanating from him

were evil guised as good

I sensed it in his rambling

he being your friend

I ignored my inner warning

he almost destroyed us both

hand in hand

Picture Credit: Reymundo

I lay my hand 
on back of yours
letting my lifeline surge into you
invisible to us all,
those lines tell a tale
only to the skin

each little mark
mingles with other
my palm turns 
towards yours
our palms silently speak
of their illicit love affairs

"I pen the words, to put on yours"

translucency

Soap skids on damp skin
I slowly watch its descent
the lather too in its wake
I see a bubble form
I wish to blow it away
the translucency of the skin beckons me
(no, it is not narcissism)
I am incensed with that very thought

"when you pour water on yourself, I almost die"

prickly pines

scented leaves of pine
make me pine for you
thorny needles prick me
that droplet of blood 
is it an omen?
I believe it isn't 
red clay of the earth 
has another story to tell
hush little baby, don't you cry
this isn't goodbye, this isn't goodbye
in orange-grey light, dews do sign bright

"pining pines shed their needles, 
pricking me again and again"

Blogger Woes

Well, I can post NOW but seem to have lost  a post and lots of comments! Maybe we should all move to wordpress!! It has been going on for the last 30 hours or so. Maybe someone sabotaged it.

MASS EXODUS!!! 

when did I forget?

how about I quit everything
go in a tangential path

where sky has a velvet feel
earth shakes out all my fears

in the crescent of your eyes
I find a path in tiny crinkles

my oldest pair of jeans can still walk
I forget tatters all over again

"a quiet observation, reflects so much"