Judas

Judas Apr 2016

We talk about pebbles.
We talk about stars.
We talk about constellations
And even about mars.
We were magnificent.
Nevertheless we are.
We do the 'towels and tent'.
We do it great so far.
I am your universe.
A solar system perhaps.
The planets are our fingers
That fill our bold gaps.

Judas Apr 2016

Fire, Ashes, Reborn

I played my match
With a tree beside me.
I never could have imagined
It would cause it to burn.
There was fire.
I wasn't afraid.
But instead,
I played with it
With marshmallows
Pinned on my stick.
I too was burnt.
So I fought fire with fire
Until we turned to ashes.
But we are made from ashes.
And we are reborn.

Judas Apr 2016

The Master Puppeteer

Mr. Jonny is obsessed with puppets.
He sees everyone to be the thing
He is fond of --- Puppets
He is good in moving his fingers.
He is good in manipulating others.
When he moves his thumb,
Everything is okay or dumb
When he moves his pointing finger,
You should be in a 'coma-state-fear'
And someone is ****** up
When he raises the middle up.
His ring finger is sometimes naked
And his little one is wicked
That makes promises fulfilled
Only when needed.
And remember my friend
That was only his one hand.

Judas Apr 2016

Dancing Bones And Caring Less

Dance, dance.
Dance your bones
To the beat of the tones.
Scream your tract
To the sound of your moans.
Do not be discouraged everytime
They judge you with crimes.
Ride along like Gin and lime.
Occupy every space.
You are massive.
You matter.
Care less.
Enjoy more.
Elude the things that make you bore.

Judas Apr 2016

Summer Tent And Towels

Inside the summer tent we built
Were two souls with nothing but towels
Served as sheets to escape
Not only the coldness of the wind
But also the warmth of each other.
We laid ourselves with no boundaries
With me covering my lower half
And you covering more.
I exposed myself more and you less.
But you were beautiful nevertheless.

Judas Apr 2016

I Want To Paint ******

I want to paint ******.
Its figure and form.
Its meaning and ways.
I'll start with dipping my brush
Into your bucket
With the wet hues of scented pink.
And let me borrow your skin
To be my canvas.
I'll lighten my fingers
Just to slightly touch the surface
Of your sumptuous curves
And take a stroke to your mouth.
Then I'll never stop dipping.
Not until all colors are painted
To your soul.

Judas Apr 2016

Your Cave

When I enter your cave,
You cave in.
I crawl with my fingers
Flexing my arms
And strengthening my thighs.
You openly accept my offer,
My body and soul,
In return with your blood
Because I am thirsty.
Your shallow entrance
Has soon opened
That embraces my whole.
I only have my hard hat for protection
From your stones that pierce,
From your heart that poisons.