Phantasm..

The old footprints hung by the bay..
Crawling over abrupt silence,
Streaming the remains,
Of a festered coast..
Where the shimmering brine,
Strolled in a broken cavalcade,
Over the waves..

The ocean-bound voices trembled;
In an expression of lunar ecstasy;
Lost in the transient daylight,
Evading the echoes of his breath..
That brushed,
The rouge on her cheeks..

Profane records..
Playing in her mind;
Of an unusual retreat,
Drawing a name..
In the sands of twilight beaches...
Or..
The stagnant air..
Of dawning Walkways..

The streets became a part of her sight;
Singing of Mirages;
Chirping of parables..
And fables..

Picture of you...

The icicles
Shone across a molten cyan skyline..
Winter trickling down..
The chords of March.

Slivers of muted butterflies
Resembling a mild panacea,
Of an estranged pause..
Yielded;
To a sketched vignette..
Atop the old yellow leaflet;
Clasped within her eyes.

Nostalgia sprung on high notes..
Winding down mosaic warmth;
Rushing along a feverish brook..
And scented dale;
His song strummed the dusky fog..
Smothered in torrid snow flakes.



This one's for Lorenzo... wrote for him after a long time..

Brishti....

I wait for Sleep..
Feeling.. the need to fly..
I wish, I could run..
Run beyond the bayonets and shrines of Gods..
Run beyond the fog of cigarettes;
And rusted romance..

Swish along the path ..
Where I lived...
by the sea..
To that place..
Underneath the orphaned rain...
Swept up by the weeping Moon..
folded safe..
In my torn checkered pocket..

I can hear the Fendo bleed my nails..
And
Rye breaks down..
Breaks; Apart;
In bouts of levied consciousness..
Lifting my eyes to a canvas on the wall..
Of Judas and Agamemnon,
Of Sun;
And Moon;
and this time..
Baby came through...
Delved...out her way..
From the Disappearance..
Forever..

Binary Vision..

I was awake.. Yes, alone ...awake.. maybe woken up..
Too many things to remember.. strings...roses...the taste of rain at the hollow of my neck... the odd smell of carnesians..
But then...do carnesians have any smell at all?
Maybe not.. maybe it's just the way they feel..
The tender curled petals bristling along my hand...soft....like an eitherdown..maybe something you slept on in your childhood when you went back to pluck "aparajita" early morning...
maybe it reminded her of that..odd bud she hid along her pillow...reminiscing a lover...
Maybe the way it would feel to kiss someone over and over while you're splashed by the waves..
Maybe she did exist... in the realms of emptiness... in the corners of faith... in the hope for no more surrenders... in the feeling of living a life...
This time it was only her...
just her..
underneath the bridge of breaths.. sewing up pictures with closed eyes....forming that old blanket we all want... when we snuggle into our beds early winter mornings..

She can see every thing now ...even with that blinded sight.. ;)

Denial of a Pause..

And I saw you...
In the reflection of Ancient Shadows..
On the broken charcoal walls..
Your tongue stroked the poetry
On my neck..
Sensing beads of burnt words..
You revived smoldered hearth..
That warm afternoon..
When the inky beams...
Taught me..
The tradition of the sun..
In a moment like the deepest waters..
I was forbidden..
To touch it's curl..
Afraid
Of ripping it's frail depth...
In the cedar landscapes of a mind..
Where my dusty lips..
Drank on your parable..
Leaving an ellipsis..
With the sweet liquor..
Of severed touch..
Captured..
In an Iris of hues..

Zaayna..

The buzz of half-awaken Fire-birds..
Crowded the barren lamp
Held by the lost drifter..
In the maze through the Conifers..

Plunging the velvet fresco..
Of the stealthy green longitudes..
He tread a mirage..
Walking past..
The Carnage of a Carnival..

Tonight,
He beseech..
The Cenotaphs to rise..
From the warble of swallows..
Where the star-rays swished..
Across a Raven Cosmos..

Reflection of eyelashes...
Over a White Quran..
Parchment;
Swept away;
Blotting her glimpse..
Over the solemn air..
The wound
Washed away in Tear-drops;

Exponent of Enigma..
Hidden in that Musk
Perfumed skin..
A closed gaze felt..
in her fingers..
curling into his palm..
Seeking an endless kiss..

Denial settled on the pasture..
beneath his feet..
He clung..
to her touch..
Over..
The words of serenity
In grace..
And orison..

She was to stay..
Etched on his lips
Like an prayer..

[~ This one's esp for you both.. thank you for being there when I needed ..just needed someone else.. ]

The Natal Ballad..

She met
A Century Man
Lost by that River..
Drunk on the Mystic Chalice
Of Mist and Rain..
Strolling
The coloured street of the Unknown..

The earthy rubble swirled
In eccentric orbits..
Withdrawn rainbows
Of those moist nights..
Which hinted
His summer laugh...
Cascading down a discreet Carrousel..

Oh, that strange caprice!
Of an undone husky Sway..
Ripples in her breath..
Caressed the odd sparkling hours..
Into ageless times..
Where her eyes..
Met his Voice..
In the strangest olive gaze..

Whispering dreams of panache
And Panatella..
Drawn from that Unfeigned Ark
As She stood across..
The Jasmine Bay..
A little forlorn..
In an insipid floral shower..
Till the Scent of him
Blinded
the Jaded Shadows..
Of rusted rays..
and ashes of the earth...