Amnesia 


They come from an ever resounding hollow,

The memories with voices.

It echoes my words, like a self talk;

Were you a dream?

I lived in that hazy daze.

Your gaze is affixed on my screen,

Your words stifled mid air, thoughts which you suppressed;

Did you love too much?

You, who were always afraid of it;

Broken shards of shuddering heart, it’s windswept fragrance emanates,

From a time within me that’s still,

Still, in the ephemeral mos we spent.

Too less.

Too less.

Longing is useless,

For a daunting you.

There are voices and odours about me, you present yourself in unexpected places;

I travel again, revive with those remnants which you bestowed,

To keep me entranced.

My flesh was enough , but I gave away more.

Now that farewell is in order;

Amnesia has its own delights.

Picture of Pandora’s power

Through autumn in spring,

Blossoming with ambivalent conclusions,

She burnt with words, abysmal.

Drab immortality broken amongst leaves,

Words destructed, words resuscitated.

Disciple of the psychedelic cult,

Au Naturel.

Remanents of a bordello’s bride;

The ever resounding yell, of uncanny spaces, lost in ephemera.

Lessons learnt on broken strings,

I rip you from my trenches;

And flood in my routine.

The wave of my expressions overwhelm me

They will drown you as well.

Strikes and streams


​I lied for you.

You lied for her.

I still miss the palm 

Which though held me ,held in frivolity.

Frigidity ungratified, losing of lust in reticent thrusts.

The giver dug a vacuum in her.

Which he couldn’t satiate,

The wood was carved, dented with blame.

All force awry.

All passion fade.

The end but says,

No one was laid.

Courtesan’s carousel


A Series of perforations-

Ears.

Nose.

Cunt.

Heart.

I emit you.

The flavour of your kiss, embeds itself in an unknown space and time.

I surmise,

Your love through it.

It Exists…

In the dark hour.

I recline, you reach me through your mental lips.

This but be my hearse.

May it be to you, your provenance.

Hollow kisses.

Fruitless ties.

Empty love.

Vacuous sight.

There’s a flower in me which withers at your name,

It blossomed in the past.

Untouched naiveté

The felicity in a demise, darling it’s price.

And I woke up to strength, and beauty.

The other light;

After that brine-full night.

If love were to come, it would come aright.

And won’t play along with the heart in spite.

Thank you for the awakening, within.

That love is all mine.

It belongs to me

And, I deserve the best in this life.

Telepathic Amoretti

You are a fascination, a mystery

My desire; an inevitability

I am always there feeling you, watching you.

Your thoughts are mine.

 To be true, bodies are just an illusion; our soul is one.

I am your soulmate.

Your twin flame.

I permeate it all melting inside you.

Love is a but a word.

You’re my magic, my mystic, my gypsy, my wild woman, I deserve you.

You deserve me.

Our spirits dance together, in spiritual ecstasy.

And it will come true.

One day…

When our bodies in this world may meet.

And suffuse.

To create bliss.

Transcending, all blues.

Eros’s Thanatos

Cheering for the beginning of end.

Loud and waspy; silent auction of feelings felt.

Anachronistically of words uttered in yore.

Prescience destroyed in arms of tyrannical Moors.

Findings found, myriad sources.

The missive reached and hit the core.

Burning and melting eternally; the sighing fumes furnished in faces.

Bracing the flow to grace in your light again.

Burning and melting. Kindled again.

Enflamed within, the heat of hot corporeal flames.

Ardent claims by carnal tombs; I burn and melt into You.

Love’s a tricky game.

Diaspora

Promises that were once to be, were broken upon a quivering leaf
Unsheathed the lover, awakened in turmoil

Upon the beloved’s kisses sleeps.

Rescind the bond; the solitary longings.

Brimmed visionaries, slumber keeps.


The past does not exist

We keep existing

Novel 

Every day

Capture it in moments

To lay down

The future for posterity

Pictures and videos

Posts and calls

We save it all.

To resuscitate the past.

For wars were fought, for loves were lost; For fear ensconced

For meaning,

In the meaningless.

For the existentialist angst and the upcoming explanation.

We summon the past our alibi that lasts;

Again withdrawn in that self subsuming cocoon, again wishing to break free?

How to resuscitate through this ?

What a wonderful spree!

No one knows,

Of that fragrant thorny rose,

Whose spikes are still intact.

No lover gave his beloved one of those;

Still it smells so sweet.