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Sep 2011 · 2.8k
Coffee Shop Talk
Shashank Virkud Sep 2011
Coffee shop talk,
a cigarette gets lit.

Coffee shop talk,
come here, come sit.

Coffee shop talk,
I've got a lot to tell you.

Coffee shop talk,
I've got to stop
stalking you.
Shashank Virkud Sep 2011
I had never heard
a voice like yours
until I talked to you
from between the door
and I had nothing
to hide so I let you
inside because you
knocked.
We didn't even
need the fire after
our bodies touched.
When I woke
up in the morning
I was in nothing
but my socks,
with the shade of your
lips on my neck.
The same
shade of wine
that stained mine.
We were in a snow city,
well actually, it seemed that
you left; bereft, it got cold
in that dingy motel room.
I clenched the letter in my hand,
unopened, until I had my first
taste.

Ripe with rhyme, I'm
coming down now.

Your words were very clear
but I'm still not sure if you
meant them, and hell, it's
been a few years.
I still haven't sewn
the last stitch, the fists
you abused with.
Your wrists are still
bruised from when
I used you last.
It never got warmer,
I only grew colder
after that day. Or maybe,
the sun was shining
strong after all, and it was
just me that could no longer
accept what it had to offer.
Don't waste the warmth
on something that's already
frozen over.
When you left,
you buried that city of snow
along with my heart,
a long time ago.
Sep 2011 · 605
Starve Me
Shashank Virkud Sep 2011
So you wanna be
PJ Harvey?

Starve me.

I see how thin
you stay for him.
Sep 2011 · 1.9k
AnnaBelle
Shashank Virkud Sep 2011
Underneath a foreign sky,
we soar, we fly.
The first thing I do
is think of you
when I wake up.

Annabelle,
wash this filth away,
bring the rain.
I'm in no rush to get my
hands ***** again.

Underneath a foreign sky,
we score, we get high.
The first thing I do
is steal from you
when I wake up.

Annabelle,
the sound of your voice
has me wound so tight.
Annabelle,
you stress me out.
Annabelle,
you stretch me
all the way out.

Underneath a foreign sky,
I left my dignity in the dirt
to die.
Pride only gets you hurt, and in
the face of light
I learnt
that I had lost my faith that night.

Annabelle,
you have my blood
and skin under your
fingernails
from the night we set
full sail.

Annabelle,
If you can feel
I'll dig deeper.

Annabelle,
If you're not real
I hope I'm not either.
Aug 2011 · 555
A True Home for My Writing
Shashank Virkud Aug 2011
One where I even pay rent.
Jul 2011 · 1.2k
Get Clever
Shashank Virkud Jul 2011
You never
thought I'd
say never.

Get Clever.

**** a sickle from the star,
******' stick it in a cross.
******' vinegar, I'm hot.
I don't dance a lot.

Pull it it back
like a bow,
you'll never know
what I'm talking about,
I'll just throw
my paint at
the canvas, let it
work itself out.

Pucker up and tuck
it in. **** it up
and bless your sin.

Keep the privileged in their place
and keep the simple in their space,
there is no common you can't erase.

Too many
******' problems,
you wish
you
could
******' solve 'em.

Too much hate?
Your heart
has never had
to participate.

******' lonely?
You've got
too much
on your plate.

Reciprocate.

The surface,
the focus,
I'm sure of all of this.

Get clever.

In all seriousness,
I hate to say it's not an art that's improvised, it's more like you camp out, waiting, sitting, wishing, thinking, eating, waiting, sitting, wishing, thinking. Praying like **** for the the snare that you set up in an half assed attempt, like always, ******* hoping it comes through for you. Pathetic isn't it?

I've got too many ideas and as these dimwits stare at the bright light behind me I get sadder.
You're probably getting madder, like I'm a ******* ingrate, It's not too late to call me out because I've just begun my tirade.

Unreadable, I know.
If you made it this far I've got to say, you are completely frivolous, and forlorn;
for that I salute you, and realizing this is all in bad taste, I bid you goodnight.

****, that was fast. Didn't even get to what I meant to.
Jul 2011 · 738
I Can't Get Away
Shashank Virkud Jul 2011
She found a corner to corner herself in,
yet she broadened her prospects,
and so she grew out of her love for me.

There it was, her car parked in a lot.
there's a whole world out there, does she know?
Dumb-****** *****, my own street isn't safe anymore.
Shashank Virkud Jul 2011
Facing you
through a windowpane,
you were mad
'cause I hadn't
kissed you yet.

When I got there,
you know I didn't care.
You know I wasn't scared.

Slow me down or
spin me sideways,
for I will always
be around.

Racing you
through the rain,
I was glad
'cause you hadn't
had a regret.

When you got there
you were unaware,
you were unprepared.

Slow me down or
spin me sideways,
for I will always
be around.
Jul 2011 · 2.3k
Flimsy
Shashank Virkud Jul 2011
The pillows you don't use
don't support. They only serve
to suffocate you.

The shed in the yard was a lot
like high school. It stood all awkward
and it was filled with tools.

Flimsy, the tears you shed
and the hate that you bred
at your brother's funeral.
Shashank Virkud Jul 2011
As you fanned me
and fed me grapes,
you let the sweat drip
down your lobe.
On a night as wet
as this, slip off
your robe, expose.

my fingertips scaled
your knuckles,
fumbling the thing
you held out to me,
burning so brightly.

All before you stopped
to talk to someone
more important
than me.
You moved so candidly.

You sat down at the bench
In a dress all black and
backless.
I've seen it in a dream.

With the moonlight flowing
down the river, your neck,
and spilling onto the banks,
your shoulder blades,
your hand crept across the keys
like the most beautiful spider
I had ever seen.
Jul 2011 · 557
You Live For Nothing
Shashank Virkud Jul 2011
Your
pitiful
pain,
I dont know
when you
became
so *******
vain.

No shame.

Would you be happy
to see me small?

Would you be happy
to see me fall?

Would you be happy
if you had a god?

Would you be happy
if you weren't a dog?
Jul 2011 · 2.5k
You owe me
Shashank Virkud Jul 2011
Gotta work on
the way
you've
been turning
the wheel lately,
at this rate
you'll never escape,
you'll never escape me.

Whats this,
I hear
you hate me,
all this talk
is making me crazy,
at this rate
you'll never save,
you'll never save me.

I'm lonely and you owe me,
I'm lonely and you owe me,
I'm lonely and you owe me one.

I wanna fall
into your arms
and say
"just for tonight,
let me pretend",
but you
won't even
let me in.

I'm lonely and you owe me,
I'm lonely and you owe me,
I'm lonely and you owe me one.
Jul 2011 · 717
My Mistake
Shashank Virkud Jul 2011
I'm not too
fond of you.
With a
crippling
crescendo to
defend your song,
there's no use in
prolonging, so
let me say what
I have to say to you.

The fault was
all mine,
and I'll take
it with salt and
lime. I mistook
swine for a swan
and got it all wrong.
Jul 2011 · 1.4k
Search and Seize Me
Shashank Virkud Jul 2011
Hearts hold out,
they're under arrest again.
Making love on the lam,
at first you were
reluctant but I know
that you liked it.

For you, I stole a locket,
yeah, I picked pockets,
and I'd build a whole
rocket ship just to get
to you.

You'll have to search and seize me,
You'll have to shoot and freeze me.
Hearts hurt now, there's a lot at stake,
We're all criminals, look at the
trouble we make.
Shashank Virkud Jul 2011
You knew for some time that I
was the trouble child.
I always told you the best dogs
were brought up wild.
Shashank Virkud Jun 2011
What was
your question,
what is
this quest
you're on?

Driving,
with the
ocean on
either side
of me,

to reach
you,

reach
for you,

     it's
dividing
    me,

      the charm
   and the
harm in it.

Restless,
when time
takes too long
to move me along,
who can I call upon?
Jun 2011 · 917
The Warmer Months
Shashank Virkud Jun 2011
Like the dirt we swept
away with our broom
when we let it
accumulate in June,
the warmer months
will make me new,
and soothe the snake in you.

We prune our roses
to make them bloom,
the warmer months bring
the birds that sing their tunes,
and the lilies and the lilacs
and the ladybugs too.

Like the fawn will
feed on the hay,
the dawn will
lead to the day,
and I'll wear my
hands away
to bring you what I grew.

Like a yellow harvest moon
our hearts will glow
together, unfettered by
stars that swoon.
Like the butter you
churned and poured
from the urn, gently,
melt me into you.
Jun 2011 · 899
Feeling In the Fault Line
Shashank Virkud Jun 2011
Seeing things for the first time,
sending shivers down my spine.
Feeling girly, too weak to make a move.
Fell into this too early, with way too
much to prove.

She said lover,
oh brother,
maybe we should find
another one while we're
still young.

There was a feeling
in the fault line.
There was a problem
but it wasn't mine.

Singing in your true voice for
the first time,
sending shivers down my spine.
Prying apart what keeps us glued,
with way too much to prove.

She said lover,
oh brother,
what's left to salvage
after all the damage
I've done?
Shashank Virkud May 2011
America is

America is a fern
and we all cultivate it.

America is germinating
and we can't control it.

America is in terms
that I can come to terms with.

America is a way
with words, America is
what it takes to describe
an urban landscape,
America is a blending of voices,
America is a sophisticated
form of art.
America is a day old
railroad of the new world
where the waters have never
been tested, where our trust
lies in the ones best at
acting their part.
America is what we make
out of a broken home, and
America will be the first to
cast a stone.
America sees us off, with
tears, and roses chosen
for us in a dim lit florist.
America already knows
where to find you,
and that the worst is
behind you,
America is a Grandmother
named Jones.
For Richard and Tyler Wagers, and Grandma Jones
Apr 2011 · 697
Better Times
Shashank Virkud Apr 2011
Six rusty lamps I lit
in the evening
had all but
burnt out,

and from the other room
I heard you shout,
"the ceilings'
beginning to leak."

Mud on the tiles,
your footsteps
stomped and squeaked.
We were all in disbelief.
We had a feeling we'd
be there for a while,
so we found a
board game to
keep us all sane.

I've had my lows
and I've been pretty high,
picture frames are windows
to better times.
Feels good when the wind blows
over the street signs.

We felt it dying down,
I found a railing in the yard,
discarded by whatever tore
through the streets,
roaring ahead of us.

Crying, you held a bird,
failing to fly from your arms.
You knew she wouldn't
last another day.
The storm had finally passed.
Apr 2011 · 1.1k
Smug(glers)
Shashank Virkud Apr 2011
The transaction is almost complete.
By the time he catches on,
I'll be long gone. Poor Pete.

A keen eye for another
mans' lighter, don't we all?
I'm a thief among thieves.
This is no small time operation.

The deed is done.
Enter six kids with
sick intentions as I
celebrate in a hazy room.

Keep conversation cordial
but don't let down your guard.
This is the hardest part.

I thought victory was
in the pocket of my jeans,
but as they stumbled through
the door, I fumbled for my score.

I wasn't able to hold on.
I don't know what went wrong,
must have left it on the table.
Can't resist a game so playable.
Mar 2011 · 1.1k
The Original Manuscript
Shashank Virkud Mar 2011
Take my hand,
don't trip trip trip,
don't trip
over my bare feet.
Take my can,
and sip sip sip,
sip sip
where land meets sea.

Take me there all wrapped in sunshine,
the weather's fine when your heart is close to mine.
We've got more time than the rest of them,
and anyhow, we're not going anywhere right now.

You put the fight back in me.
You laced up the old gloves for me.
Like flint to fire, your love
sparked and inspired,
like flint to fire, your love
sparked and inspired me.

Sharing small spaces,
we are rare, rare cases.
Just a shack or a roof of thatch
is all we need when we have the waves
and flowers in our faces.
Mar 2011 · 2.0k
I Hate To Preach But...
Shashank Virkud Mar 2011
I hate to preach but

tomorrow could be calm,
and led like a lamb.

Or,

tomorrow could be cunning,
and teach us to

breathe like we mean it.
Mar 2011 · 782
How Minds Are Lost
Shashank Virkud Mar 2011
Silk in a serenade,
each second becomes a day.
Just stay for the blink of an eye.
Now I have a reason to lose
control of my breathing.

Sympathy in the strings I play,
not so much in the things I say,
no matter how hard I try.
Unaware of the passing season,
am I staying or am I leaving?

Cornerstones crumble,
I don't trust my senses enough.
I've got a feeling nothings' real.
Now I have a reason to
really start screaming.

Polished brass,
shattered glass in the garden.
Examine the facts yet abolish
the past, a history lesson isn't
something I'm going to believe in.

The creases in time are
seamless in my sleep.
A fragile frame of mind,
I hate to suppress it. I'm inclined
to ask, am I awake, or am I dreaming?
Mar 2011 · 3.4k
Sell It Hard
Shashank Virkud Mar 2011
There's a city glowing in my ears,
biting blur of the nightlife.
Figure I've been here for a while.
My supplies were piled high,
now they're in short supply
and I'm high.
The walls of my
apartment are red.

I wait until the streetlights
flick on before I flip into a
somersault, I wait until the
streetlights flick on before
I call you out tonight.
The walls of my
apartment are red.

Dead presidents, don't
answer for me,
I paint the walls red.
Dead presidents couldn't have
seen it coming,
I paint the walls red.
Dead precedents, don't correct me.

Could have been a fool,
could have been a rule
you didn't know, so
when your friends are
wrong sing a song that
won't offend anyone.

You kept me waiting for hours,
you were shining. In a dress like
blood and flowers, you were shining.
You better sell it hard tonight.
The walls of my
apartment are red.
Mar 2011 · 569
A Note On My Door
Shashank Virkud Mar 2011
I don't know who I am or what I like anymore. Bored with everyday, everyday I try to settle the score between me and what lives on the floor level of your mind. Finding out you're a plastic bead on a string of gems, accepting you're the stem and not the rose.

I don't know what I am or who I like anymore. Give in, give in like before. Heard a knock on my door, won't question it more. You left a note on my door, I have to settle the score between me and what lives on the floor level of your mind. To find you're a rhinestone, defining the beauty you juxtapose.

Keep driving away, keep it hiding away.
Shashank Virkud Mar 2011
You take your ship to sea,
if you find an island
you can name it for me,
I'm like Constantine.
Cryptic chronology,
sea sick ceremony,
a brief history
of bigotry,
and a few
methods to model
the abstract,
sometimes whack point of view.
Got it rough,
take it from me,
take my stuff,
you can take it from me,
that's enough,
you're a lot tougher than me.
Pure art and patriarchy,
parrot in the park,
no contest,
no success for the weaker ***.
Passed through a hundred hands,
across a hundred lands,
a glittering
glimpse of its beauty
can be an empire's end.
You take your whip to me,
if I mine a diamond,
you can take it from me,
I'm in slavery.
Jan 2011 · 3.4k
The Vibe
Shashank Virkud Jan 2011
Something about the vibe.
Something I can see is true,
something electric in the wire,
you're the medium it's running through.

First the surface,
then the inside of your mind.
Our own world, kept intact,
now we're falling back.

Something about the vibe,
something I can't see in light so slight.
Something I can't describe.
you can wake me in the afterlife.

It's where I want to be, this is where I want to be.
Dec 2010 · 12.4k
Adolescex
Shashank Virkud Dec 2010
You were a different version of the religion,
you were a ****** of the region when we met.
I had the brownest eyes. You had the greenest eyes.
chin sits perfectly in shoulder,
hand fits in hand, molded.
I had hair like a little girl's. You had hair like a little boy's.
Both half ******, my arms were as thin as yours, and toned.
You didn't own a single curve, just edges and bone.
Only your lips were soft. Only my lips were soft.
The fading light bounced off the angles of my abdomen and visible ribcage,
made your mouth water. With a shy,
curling finger,
you called me over to you.
It drove me wilder.

We undressed each other under the covers.
You giggled and I crumbled when you saw
I needed help with the clasp of your bra.
I chuckled, returned the favor when you gave up on my belt buckle.
I had the body of a little girl. You had the body of a little  boy.
The sheets wound around and pressed us together,
You had the hardest hips. I had the hardest hips.
You compromised what was inside your mind;
I felt those first few moans rattle your
visible ribcage and escape through lips pursed
like a porcelain doll.
Took it all in, held on to your fragile frame
and from the moment we were free,
two children in the wilderness.
Dec 2010 · 2.2k
Tequila Mockingbird
Shashank Virkud Dec 2010
The wind blows hard tonight. The wind takes every bit of warmth from my marrow and doesn't bring any of it back. No, this is not an art that you have mastered exclusively, as much as that may disappoint you.  

Ninety six days culminate and rot within my intestines. The feeling, well, the feeling is like ****, but the images interpreted are more than appealing, beautiful I would say.

I don't stay at home anymore; I go to other people's homes and stay there because it fascinates me. It fascinates me for so many reasons, expressions, to name a few.

Keeping true to the convention of keeping true to the convention, I shed a layer of skin when I threw the old tea box full of photographs from the terrace this morning.

The air smelt of coriander and fresh mud, fresh rain. I took it into my lungs as a restatement of my existence but it felt smug and in vain when winter's wisdom slapped me as I exhaled. The pain was a harsh reminder; I was real. My face was red more from the shame than the sting of it.

The whole occurrence was organic, and the memory makes me laugh. Some say to me that I'm made to laugh easily, that I laugh like a fool. I'm a bad hand out of a deck of cards. I am dealt with. It's all in my stars.

In comparison, sardonicism has never known a friend, but I've had one or two. Most people are hopeless to me; I am unplugged. 
You speak to me, you want me to be connected. You have a longing in your voice, not so much for me, but for the thought of me rejected.

I had stars in my sights the nights you ignored me and made my hands your ******. Time, and time again, you justify keeping me pressed against your window, believing every inclination is adored. 

Time has passed, these creases will stay forever in my corduroys. The fragmented fire wood we never got to burn and those forgotten chapters of childhood still litter my mother's yard.

Maintaining a reserved tone, tensing those muscles in your face, for what? Try dying twice and then you will see that there is no magic, no mystery behind the way things are happening, especially here.

Happy to be hurt, ironic, the pain in my neck reminds me of you.
Oct 2010 · 2.0k
Acrostic for Reality
Shashank Virkud Oct 2010
Rational
Everyday
*******
Loss
Injustice
Tribulations
Yearning
Oct 2010 · 17.9k
But Bittersweet
Shashank Virkud Oct 2010
Bittersweet, get me going.
                     hold your breath over my neck,
      
                             it really

         lets me go,

                         twists my tongue.
Talk to me
                  like an angel
but,
                                
                         touch me                
like a convict.
 
                        disrespect me,

              neglect me,
abuse me,

but,
              with a voice I can't refuse.

Bittersweet, like a rose infused.


Bittersweet, keep me going.

        my heart
flutters and flails when I hear you in my ear.
      
      Whisper me *******

but,                
                       ***** me

like a ******.

                    ****** me,

             reduce me,
fool me, 
            but  Bittersweet,                      
        ­            make me feel *****.
Like you're in school
         and I am turning thirty.
Oct 2010 · 1.7k
Integral
Shashank Virkud Oct 2010
Service
the sections
we skim
on
four limbs,
integral
to the insect
cause
and effectively
crippling
the cross culture,
dumb and
auspicious
in the year
of the
opposable
thumb.
Feline
friction
in
the way
you
hug the fuzz
and
tug at
the tension,
a conscious
show of
subterfuge
and
pretentious
pretenses
concludes
in the dismal
aftermath
of a
stamped
and sent
ten cent
envelope
filled with
nothing
but hope.

Sacrilegious
privileges
construct
reality,
obstructing
the
graffiti art
along the
cosmonaut
crosswalk.
The fire,
fought
with wine
in the dark
etched an
imprint
in ash
where
the
cadre had
left its' mark
in the colors
of a
corroded
battery.
Under
spray
paint stars,
hollow,
half
sunken
sights
echo
through
the
illegitimate
children
of a
wind
chime.

Sulfurous
silver
lining
igniting
the ego.
A blue
reaction
in a black
field,
refraction
with a
maximum
yield,
it all glows.
Feline
friction
in
the way
you
hug the fuzz
and
tug at
the tension,
smooth
and rigid,
we fit in
the grooves
and service
the sections
in a
crippled
cross
culture
that
crawls
on all fours,
integral
to an insect
cause.
Sep 2010 · 3.5k
Queen
Shashank Virkud Sep 2010
Coffee on my breath,
wearing a frown.
Sunshine, my sweater,
my soul turns brown.

Lips slick with chapstick,
chics' licking sack n' ****,
drag off a ******* *** n' lean,
obscene in the sense,
the ******* ****' a drag queen.

Rival the bible,
hell to sell any,
whats worse, church
bells smell ugly
under my nose.

I chose the shallow dirt
road to death, even the
tallest tales hail the same frail fate.
Fill my urn to earn my fill,
**** it.

There is no still
frame to capture the moment,
fracture the film and leave it alone.
Yellow toned, below me,
sallow, cornered in color coordinates.

Drenched cover but dry at the core of it;
dazzled by ****, dazzled by diction,
you write the dirtiest fiction
and I'm the ******* ***** in it.

Leather bound, cable wound,
leather bound. Black.
Leather.
Shashank Virkud- From As the Distance Grows
Sep 2010 · 1.7k
Hey, By The Way
Shashank Virkud Sep 2010
Already seven cars,
I pull in late.
Put my keys by the candles
and stare at the lake.

Sit down, sip your wine.
What's in? Where have you been?
How long since?
You never drop a line.
You must be busy.
I avoid your gaze
and your hand grazes
my thigh and brings us
eye to eye.

Ready for the bar,
we barely ate.

No shame in
the champagne
I consume,
but I assume
it's the fine wine
I spewed all over the ballroom.

Took it too far,
it's getting late.

You don't want me to stay.
Uninvited,how you always
made me feel anyways.
Turn in slighted, ******* futon.

Last time we met
we slept side by side,
you and me, two reasons to care.
The letter and the locket
you kept and tried to hide,
I think I need some fresh air.

light a cig and figure some things are better left unsaid.
Always tempted to trigger thoughts long dead.

Staring at you, asleep in your bed, linen, lace.
I always was a ***** case.
Your thoughts leak out of your head, thin in space.
I find them on your face.

Better not be here when you wake,
the next time we meet it'll be too late,
so hey, by the way,
you looked beautiful today.
Shashank Virkud- From As the Distance Grows
Aug 2010 · 1.1k
Wide Awake
Shashank Virkud Aug 2010
Dance
in rain,
France and Spain,
insane colors,
lovers who blame their other lives, disguise.

I pace hallways, racing my wall shadow.
Another pill
I cannot
swallow
whole.

Hats
and trains,
masks and planes,
inane covers
for lovers with no shame in their wild eyes.

While I'm wide awake all night, tally off sheep,
sleep? No, I don't
get that and
it shows
now.
shashank virkud- From As the Distance Grows
Aug 2010 · 758
Pink Threads
Shashank Virkud Aug 2010
Flying in a florid fit,
I'm cutting close to the cosmos.
Off the top of my head
I get dizzy, sixty green gleam stars
half a yard away from my pink threads.

Let me think of a time I wasn't with you,
it's so hard to choose, confused
by my ruse you follow all the clues
to my blue room.
This night is ******* up.

I should be in the garden
with all my friends,
laughing at all the trends,
singing for hours inside my head.
Instead I tread on a few fibers of
brilliant blue and pink threads.

Stay awake, take it slow while I kindle and glow.
The effect will never dwindle or go away.

Sixty green gleam stars
that lit up my blue room.
Like I've never felt before,
these mushrooms.
Fumes from hash, I kindle, I glow.
My blue room has one window.
Nothing like a ******* drug on cue
to take me to the blue room.

Look below,
as the distance grows
with quiet gin, two violins and a piano
pick the perfect piece to paint the scenario.

When I miss you
I write some ****,
but this isn't it.
There's a trail you take
to the room the moon
turns a pale hue of blue.

Stay awake, take it slow while I kindle and glow.
The effect will never dwindle or go away.

My pink threads aren't very far
from sixty green gleam stars
I put to paper with lead.
This view from my blue
room will keep you awake,
with a feeling to fake for it.
Shashank Virkud- From As the Distance Grows
Jul 2010 · 936
Running
Shashank Virkud Jul 2010
Glass eyed,
running from our final hour.
Crass lies,
nothing tastes as sour.
By Shashank Virkud- From Miracle/Whimsical
Jul 2010 · 628
Empty Handed
Shashank Virkud Jul 2010
We're dancing in the moonlight, chancing that the mood is right.
Lady Luck won't **** with me tonight.
By Shashank Virkud- From Miracle/Whimsical
Jul 2010 · 798
The Wolf and the Wool
Shashank Virkud Jul 2010
I can smell your agony,
watch you suffer,
catch you for supper.
I can tell you're onto me.
I am the wolf.

I've walked countless trails
to the same slaughter,
she ran but they caught her.
My happiness is frail.
I am the wool.
By Shashank Virkud- From Miracle/Whimsical
Jun 2010 · 1.3k
Marbles
Shashank Virkud Jun 2010
I haven't found glory
on the street or in the fields,
the latter being too gory
and the former ******* my heels.

I don't have the words,
it's shaking up my nerves,
I'll take a walk.

Play low class, gamble for cash
with tiny marbles made of glass,
the gravity outweighs the mass
on this tiny marble made of gas.

I can't fly with birds,
it's shaking up my nerves,
I"ll take a walk.

I haven't found glory
on the street or in the fields,
but I'll tell you my stories
because they're real.
By Shashank Virkud- From Miracle/Whimsical

— The End —