The black the white the gray of life

The black the white the gray of life

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Chasing Chastity

I'm a branch of a fig tree,
Slowly caterpillars of envy climb,
Nibbling joy leafy loose,
Leaving holes in them.
Chasms unabridged,
Acidic after effects of
Chernobyl at heart.

I believe the dream has.
Then you come,
Shake the feeble trunk,
Sending tremors at my juiciest ones.
Lovely figs,
Rosy my dears.

I'm hung in suspension,
How can I catch?
I can't repel.
Spare them.
Relishing in plan of rot,
Basking a smile in the scorch you pretend.

Broken branch with no 'thwack'
Oozing purity in sobs of despair.
Chastity I chase still...
Mask your wear.

One Fig lost,
One and a half...
No No No.

I catch them,
My leafy joys have shed.
On Chaste ground they lay.
In the chase,
I distract you from hunting my juiciest.
In exchange of what I laid.

I will Wrap 'em up.
Still unrot.
You may sell.
What Price will they fetch?
Purity today is no jewel!

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Matrimoney Market

Broken knees to
Bursting hearts.
Ribcage ripping,
Razoring realities,
stalk, stalk,stalk.

Archaic Communion cottage cheese like,
Fits only petty hearts,
Freezing rites.

Not fist but testicles,
The heart.
Their heart.
That's the size.

Zombies locking hearts on rings,
Rings exorbitant buy souls in swapping.
Round and round,
On pyre ground,
Hollow circle, chanting crowd...
Engulfed in nothingness.

The lock fits not the same key,
Deformation infidelity.

Passive infideling,
Trashed them...
Plath the genius,
Sexton the fabulous,

The flame we surround,
In a want of fire.
Trapped in the market of mirrors.
Each Deceive, malign.

World market of fairness crease,
Melanin, not a disease.
Loosing it just to please.
Slicing off, amputating,
Bullying the brains off genius it is.

It has caught,
Victimized herds.
All of them.
All the 'hers'

Let perfection the brutes,
Scandalize beauty.
Trap the butterfly,
Cut the wings to make it pretty.

Water not the thorns.
Spit Spiel.
Blades on identities.

Friday, March 25, 2011

The Sack of a Kitten

When I was a little kitten in a sack,
You were there,
Were you?

You fed me up,
You dragged me rags,
Your soothing touch I never knew.
Soothing were you?

Balled into fists,
I saw.
You never gulped them.
Up breast you clenched on…
And on.
I interrupted your letters with my tearleft eyes.
You saw.
Did you?

Against my bosom I held my hurt,
Trumpeting an evil laugh surrounded the sack.
I got out,
I did?
But I never seize or squeeze,
Any meaning to decipher you.
I’m Sorry
Are you?

Mumbling cumbrance to my Enid Blyton book,
In, the story fantasy grew,
Step moms were too good.
Contemptible realities I grew to write.
Thank you.

That story.

That story.

My favourite like,
Oh that story.

On his throne,
Honestly grew strong fellow.

Parzival –
Cloak of sunshine.
Loving gaze, kind eyes.
Bless Him
That Sonshine

Less perplexed,
I'm doll in the cupboard.
Not your fault.
Your beady eyes some,
innocent shines.
Innocence Maybe?
Am I right?
love is still.

God Bless You.
Bless the king kind.
Will you?

Standing for approbation
Like a speck of dirt on your palm.
Will you?

Wednesday, March 16, 2011


Just a hush at midnight,
Imagination sneaks in companionship
Of worries, fears and dreams,
All sublime.

A land of toys,
They drift like clouds in candor,
I set my feet in,
Softly...making a little sound like dew drops on leafs.

Tapping in toy land is a crime,
Plastic anger beyond the iniquitous dark,
Each is same to the neighbour
No fights,
No one unprecedented
All alike.

The line of crimson on my pale face,
Marvel turns into an ‘o’ disgrace!
I shun the darkness,
I shout,
Shattering the materialistic loud.

And shaken they stare around,
The soldier, the ballerina, the Amelia,
Even the sailor and the teddy bear.
Stiff dissolves in a caring cloud,
I cup my hands and breathe,
The moon has bid the sun is in,
The clichés have ceased dance,
The Key has to be turned again,
Igniting nothing new now.
I’m a vagabond,
I will traverse a lively sky,
A vibgyor new,
Once again stumble upon the earth,
The Toy Land.
The plastic crowd.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Cacophony of the world.

Cut it out…
They shout
They shout.
Shaking through,
My carcass phew!

Deafening my sight,
Blinding my sound,
They shout
They shout.
They don’t cut it out.

I’m nauseatic,
Sickened by the ruthless ghouls,
They see no love in the petals divine,
They see no music in the bees buzzing rhyme.
They shout
They shout.
They don’t cut it out.

Oh! One day I will float high,
To the alcazar with my love star,
My aspirations are set up there,
Elusive, insurmountable…
But I can look up atleast,
From the grandest arched window,
With my love,
I will take a leap!
I will cut the hopeless cord
I will believe.