Body

Let me love and care for the art piece
of your body- every pulsating touch of your
spasms. Jumping wildly; while washing
me in your spring water on top a mountain
of passions. I’ll spurt within you, from its tip.

And in kind; let the wetness of your lips
sooth my skin. Kissed by your sensual soul, as
it echoes every word of thirst, running down your
throat; chasing after every breath we lose in
a moment.

                       Still, let us not love in haste.

Amazon Queen

I gaze at you, as my sprouting rose in
bloom. But not something so delicate; she is
tall, shapely, and sturdy— my Amazon Queen
that keeps me in the centre of her rainforest.

As she lets my words water her floret by
their tip- its warmth and gentleness spoke of
a love so deep and fulfilling.

*******

Oh, how she stimulates my eyes,
as I make out with her eye’s persuasion;
my mind often rehearses how I’ll love her
in it’s imaginations- my mind’s perfect
simulation;

For our desires are much sweeter,
by every bite of her smooth chocolate skin
I adore her more than I would have
yesterday- to quietly bless each step
she’ll take tomorrow. And a reason for me
to kiss her feet.

Moist

Surely as the night is washed by the gentle rains-
I have these saturated thoughts, pondering how
she’ll drown me over another night’

As she could never
have the most without I in the middle;
her underwear feels so moist.


Climactic Prelude & Conclusion

Would you love to experience a climactic
prelude; a middle so sweet in its time;

While my eyes ripen at the sight of your
ripening fruit,

Oh, so sweet in its time, let me capture
and savour that juicy fruit,

For yes indeed we had fallen in love-
but let not that fruit eventually fall;

From its tree, to rot off its vine; let me bite
you as mine- to taste your heaven’s ecstasy;

In this climactic prelude; I promise the middle
is filling, and its conclusion won’t be short lived.

Your lips, a frozen fire that burns within
Your touch, a gentle warmth that never dims
I crave, oh how I crave you endlessly.

When you're not here, my heart aches, longing
for your touch, your presence. Memories of you
linger, haunting me like a bittersweet melody.

Your words, now distant echoes, still send shivers
down my spine. In my mind, you're a queen, a
goddess, above all else. My love for you is
unwavering, like a regal crown upon my head.

A heart that crumbles with time,
Gradually fading into that familiar abyss
As my thoughts silently fade away;
Eroded by the chemistry of love- a love lost.
In a manner of desiring to express myself; it seems
Causing its own demise- words soon ignite.

And they become like embers,
Scorning a fire of anger, I kept hidden
Deep within my soul's depths.

The flames dance freely, without a care,
Like a child with matches, unaware.
I watch in silence, filled with dread,
Praying they don't consume my heart, turning it to lead.

In a wicked twilight- I had dreamt a suicidal dream, roaming
around deserted lands; screaming within. As every tear drop
was just a dew drop watering the lands; I once envisioned
as a blank page of life- those colours drained away.

My smile is covered in the ink of a tear; as I wondered if I
could catch them running quick- flowing to the pavement by
every blink. Soon after the rain-washed the days, everything I
once seen, became so, so, so bleak.

I caved into the arms of someone- her flush pink cheeks
injected the clouds with their colours, that you could pick
apart. Sealing the pit of despair in a glass jar, stealing from
time a lingering kiss, to scatter wide and far.

Hoping that this time, this time I won’t find comfort in
an element that burns in time's fire. Scorching my soul to
the ends of longing to meet death again.

            Till I realized, I wasn’t dreaming at all.

Your eyes so sharp; hint at a piercing yellow in the air-
beyond measure beyond what we lose reasons to care for.
Therefore, you shall find me down a path to the honeyed
days, when all we try to hold on to, tilts and drifts away.
While my feelings for you left me all sun-washed and
golden, now downsizing myself, inches into days.

Forever being the promise of a storm; a cause of havoc in my
heart- we meet, we fall in, fall out of love and finally depart.
Still, I’ll remain searching for the sweetness of your yellow
nectar- the tenderness we both shared. Still steeped in your
honey comb lips; as every kiss was a promise, dripping with
sweet promises, and its amber glow.

                I… remain as the one still chasing after you
                                                   -an eternal hunter bee.

Shoot a shot;-
jumping a gun, for the bullets
to be bouncing in and out of a heart.
Alas, another crime, another scar,
and another broken heart.

Instead…

Give her all of your attention
don’t mask over intentions,
Quickly solve all tensions-
love her as an instrument; a song of love,
And be her instrument of protection-
her caring, compassionate, and loving weapon.

in a silent madness;- lies a lie like a gloomy past,
my eyes become a patch of crimson under a calmy vast
expanse of solid white -every tear was like frozen milk,
stirred by the coldness of a night.

the bitterness of an unfeeling presence, like a shadow
that invades my room; my unrest continued as daylight
darkened into night.

now dawning a forced crack of smile, like the winter
cracking the night’s skyline. the trees were so upset-
frost-shocked; swinging pieces of ice tears from the
winds upsetting cries- out loudly.

the frost in my veins freezes the time I have with a
jolt; it jars at my bones- like an endless fall into
tides, all rushing away, swept into my eyes.

for even when I close them so strongly, trying to
imagine warmth -I can still hear the harsh coldness
of this cold night.

Dive into my thoughts like a well-written tale;
to understand the part, you'll forever portray.
Embrace me in your fiery passion,
in a moment so divine -imagining it in
reverie the following day

And caress me gently; sweeter than
any dream that's ever been seen
Our love, a dream so surreal;
In moments lost, we find our appeal.
Kiss me until, we both wake up from that dream.

Whirling vortex; -
I stalked a dream so smooth-tongued,
every whisper of it, had an attention to its
words- intentions to look so divine.

And for a fleeting choice of the moment,
I faintly enjoyed the lie.

This world shoots you down for no reason;
try to make peace- there’s no treaty
Divide our kinds, but still claim we’re all equal;
give us numbers, to define the body count of our people
For war is the longest film to mankind; but it feels much
longer when it comes with a sequel.

               We’re just trying to survive
               hoping tomorrow we’ll still wake up alive.

And you squeeze my heart like a trigger;
a gun for a mouth; every word is a bullet piercing
at me with your deadly, and gripping love
You appear as a wonderful monster; roaming
in the dark; an unforeseeable future, focused
on a never-ending hope, that you and I shall last.

Our words become ash, skin will turn into dust, bones
become rust- my rib will one day disappear; the one that
belonged to your side. And by my side; you were my
much-loved poem, keeping me company, as all my old
lovers are above me.

Your very smile is an island that I’m stranded on,
your bright skin is the sun; our love a message in a
bottle, filled with …our words, kisses, voices, messages,
poems, verses and secrets untold.

And for one last warmth of your lips,
I’ll feed into them like a flame, and being burned
by your love. Goodbye, goodbye to us, and goodbye
to our love.

A claim you possess;
we’re possessions, battling for one last touch- our
love on the battlefield; the gore of it, engulfs you as
if you were drowning; sinking deeper into your
emotions. Our hearts relapsed into their silence, a
fathomless ocean- of us holding our breathes each
time we kiss.

We were so tired of loving with no results,
so much so, that the very first time we kissed
it all, it was all too much to comprehend.

Tasting your lips; is so close to sipping on wine, I tasted your
maturity, the finest savoring of your very worth- after every
kiss, I’m left so lost for words.

Lost in the loud colour of your lips; a crimson night- where I had
very well kissed a dream. You were sleeping below my chin, resting
on my chest, and I slowly kissed your forehead to lift your eyes open.

You thanked me, for being someone who loved you as the person you
are; and not what you had been before. Your sanguine lips whispered
the loudest secret; with a vestige of your spell. I read the tales of your
lips-an odour of your past, spoken in their shaking trace; a mute tear
on your cheek; searching for someone to rescue you in these long nights.

Waiting for a knight- we met each other while lost in a night. The guise
of people’s eyes, could never shape you out so perfectly; as perfect as
each one of your curves. From greeting so many people with our lips;
you could taste a thousand of them, but only have a fondness for one.

                                                       Your lips, are my perfect sonnet.

I sat there waiting for myself;
patiently, so anxiously- my thoughts between beauty,
love, ambiguity; a tragedy and all manners of happenings.
While we were both picturing the inkling of make-up
***- but we lacked the foundation of making love.

Holding onto the fear of more arguments
afterwards, so tightly like a hug. I was choked
out for most of my words, fitting over the hand
of fabrications, like a perfectly fitting glove.

It all became a tacit question
between the both of us: “this time, will we make
an effort at making love, or is it another downwards
spiral of us just being so down to ****?”

We were both smoking long blunts;
-having a much longer conversation
and she confessed a truth about self:

[Her hands had grown a fatigued touch,
too tired to touch the rest of itself
Her body a trade of secrets; constantly learning
all of the best places, to please herself.

And lastly, our eyes, both held history of
**** pictures- seeing each other with our naked
eyes; and of course, the many glares of knowing
how to please ourselves.

      Two lovers, who truly loved themselves.

I am a poem in motion, in itself-
I strike an empty canvas; drawing out inspiration from
the library of experiences sitting on a majestic shelf,
“what picture shall I craft,” to showcase an unheard story,
an unsung song- “and what lines shall I once again cross”

Poetry has no bounds;- its never short of words,
its expression is wild; tamed by the artist’s pen- my sword
to fight against the marching violence in my mind.
My words- are all a part of me; they separate me from the
entire world, as I watch everything unfold into the paper
where I write down my thoughts.

[the poet-
is an outsider; a broken writer, who gets his fix from
his literature art. It’s an addiction, and a cure to my everything-
yet it’s still nothing. It is here, it is there, it is everywhere; still
it comes from nowhere.

[a poem-
are her words tender, but also so raw. They are the length of her
elegant body, they are short of breath- she is my answer, she is
my many questions, she’s a truth made out of my lies. She is
everything to my nothing

No poem is a mistake; every poem is perfect-
written by imperfect people.

Your kiss feels like a petal in a violent wind;
an edible desire on my florid cheeks- blushing in my
memory of you, incessantly playing out love and seduction;-
you threaten my eyes with longing.

Swimming in an ocean of your dreams;
her waters are so clear -every tear in her eyes reflects a
better version of me; as I see my love for you is so frail
-destined to fail from every touch of our running lips;-
chasing after love, its sweet venom killed me from the start.

Darling, our love was a short poem; written in black
-for we couldn’t see its predictable conclusion;
our love was a short poem;- short, brief and obscured.

I don’t miss her, being my girl- I just miss
the feeling of not being so in love with someone,
who doesn’t love you anymore.

                          Today I wrote her a black poem.

I kissed a night;-
that had promised to keep me warm inside, falling
in love with its ghost- her absence haunts me still.
Steered by the afterimage of a crafty mindset;
a dramatic picture- its frame, filled with all pains;
their hurts written in unflinching paint.

Suddenly, I find myself hanging it all on a wall;
staring at it in a perfect dark, a dark work of
art- capable of still seeing it all.

Sometimes, its just her, him, them or it;
how I choose to see it, isn’t how well I express it.
Killing time, while battling a bipolar practice
of depression; that promised me just a subtle kiss-
but had embraced me in its dark aggression.

I kissed a night;-
that had promised to keep me warm inside, and
it was that very kiss that ****** all the life out of me.

///a bee you see;
does all for its queen-
my honey bee, my honey queen,
so sweet are your eyes; that I prize
a honey fortune to fight for;- a deathly sting.

Poems, sonnets, haikus, odes, songs, prose;
every one of them are trapped in a little black box—
a pen, the only key that unlocks my heart for everyone.

A box teeming with all my pains in it;
secrets or lies? There’s an eternity in that box- all my
verses are in it; some remain locked till the inevitable
death of another disregarded poet.

Oh, my little black box; filled with thoughts-
your love is less;- in an honest jest; laughing at most
of my secret ideas— ones far from their best, further less.
Writing something to forget as something less;
pieces I beget as children; I leave them so fatherless.

                                  Trapped in that little black box!

This obsolete word- love;
in its pathetic love passions; - a lover’s promise
to do better– is a sorrow for a morrow. Digging in
your heart to express jealous feelings- love has just caved
in; loving one from the very pits of their own darkness.
Love is beauty, but also promises probable harshness.

In the letter ‘L’-
is longing, but also many let downs.
‘O’ – openness to broad communication; also the
opportunity to opposing standards. The rest of the letters
are blurred- as to why you won’t see me express them well.

Of cos, one should be sentimental;
still the mental response of love- gives tears;
of a heart building up a great sentinel…

an old piece of paper;- rustic with words of verses to a
beautiful beginning with an awful end— a jealous pen,
towards poems that boldly write stanzas of love- starved,
drained, alone in the silence of a love life, a heart not to
beat for love- only to read about it again and again.

i am; a plain piece of paper- words, actions, desires…
all things searching, for a true love that only comes
much later. live a day, sleep over a dawn of love, and
departure a night crying about it, alone.

There’s a charming night; her air seductive,
her beauty blinding- she strives through pain; writes a
story with a dried-out pen; writing a poem with no lines.

She is the night; her skin is brown sugar, her eyes are
filled with black galloping horses, that defies any oblivion,
her lips are red as the blushing passion of youthfulness.

Her wrongs in my eyes are a pale memory;
she is a penny with its head and tail- whichever side she
falls on, her worth affords all of my attention.

Tonight, her touch is like a paintbrush on my skin;- she
tries to paint a new moon- reflecting her smile’s shine;
she’s a candle that pierces at the darkness, and light starts to
bleed out, filling the room with an echo of, ‘her’ and only ‘her.’

She’s truly perfect, so perfect she feels unreal;
she’s a fatal misery- full of forgetfulness; the memory
of her I try to make stay. To live with her is a pain, without
her is a shame;- she’s truly perfect, so perfect she feels unreal
—sadly, she is only, and remains just a dream.

We’ll bury more of the dead; -  
rather than burying the problem  
that caused their death,  

We prefer not to bury the hatchet;  
instead raise them up in arms—
yelling, “let’s all go to war”

Bent butterfly wings, a tepid moment;- waiting, craving,
as the yearning burns for the poet who lit a joint.
Burning so brightly was a passion, it burnt all night—
as like a taste of words, so forgotten in the lips of those
that I had kissed long before.

Still, it’s as dead as the scent of old gravestones- in
the blood of their veins, that feels like the suicidal
resting in pain. For I had buried my heart in a place,
-since life points out moments of feeling worthless,
my pen becomes pointless; - This poet is like a loner,
writing only for himself, like warmish water- that you
can only bare for a moment. Alas, I don’t deserve to be
called a poet; for right now that poet feels so hopeless.

               I can’t soar any higher; my wings are bent.

There is the time when life flourishes;-
and only but a second when it all vanishes
A winter loveless; makes itself cold – needless,
airless, so emotionless- for is the state of the heart
after sudden loss.

The loss of someone, the loss of love,
the loss of dreams, the loss of time, the loss of faith,
and tragically the loss of hope; - that loveless winter
embraces your mind in a heart’s grief.

You seem afraid, so afraid to break the silence;
still, you can hear your bones break in despair –
and oh despair, “you have choked me in my heart,
banished me - I feel your hand squeezing my trivial
heart made of a speck; sometimes it’s crystal or metal,
nonetheless, it all will break.”

Though suddenly, I snap awake - perhaps it was
just all a dream; - a fierce winter to recall.
It was more, for the somebody taking everything I love,
were my own hands, around the throat of everything
I held dear- all I thought I had lost.

A full stop to the end of something worthy of time; -
a spot in the crowd, as a fool stops by feeling unwanted
here and everywhere else; - Less important than everybody
else; who am I if not a man silent most of the time; - sadly,
and greatly; his greatest work never becomes sublime.

Oh, it’s a curse; - that their eyes other face to
meet, but forget so rapidly an honest verse.

Still- he braves another line, despite what feels
like another pointless lie; - Still, he writes!

…as a violin with no strings,
…an endless sleep without beautiful dreams,
…a courageous bird with no wings,
…a mortal passion that never wants to die; -
              Still, he writes!

I found a beautiful threshold of you
-lost somewhere, in one of my dreams
the very last of us both laughing, speaking love,
singing sweet nothings, being the best stanzas; -
these days it’s just callous lines, of a forgotten poem.

Roses on our bed;- final remarks
on it being an attractive grave;- as for us, being in
love is to be slaves, owned by chaotic emotions.
And under the blackness of your eyes— is a pain clear
as day; confess to yourself dear love; how you worshipped
forcefully laughing through your pain.

I had worshipped every tone of your laugh,
never knowing that it represented you feeling so
breathless, constantly down the wrong path- every day,
every minute you pretended to be okay- every hour I blindly
believed we were both okay.

Your presence right now;-
does truly matter, even if you feel for a moment,
all that you do doesn't seem to matter. With every
thread of your matter—the space you occupy-
is in its impactful reason, to matter.

///the sky is the limit;- don’t limit
your sights on how far you see yourself going;
a worthwhile could be hidden in a well kept
promise, as the curve lost in your smile, and
the sparkle in your eyes all captivate others
to keep on hoping.

Beneath the surface of everything that exists;-
I find myself one breath away from losing my sanity,
and not making another one, until I die. Continuously unsure if
I'll ever create something new before, my time is up;- living by
the inevitable ticking of time's clock.

I've been living on the outskirts, trapped within
the confines of my own mind, constructing dreams of the past
for those who still hold onto hope, hoping that what I do will
be cherished as something unique and irreplaceable, like a rare gem
amidst a sea of ordinary stones. But now, I find myself drowning in
a sea of thoughts, longing for a shore where I can find solace instead
of conforming to the world's constant demands with a forced "sure."

Sometimes, I feel like I exist beyond the boundaries
of this physical realm. I am dedicated to carrying the weight of
everything, as if it all rests solely on my shoulders. I commit myself
to helping others and loving those who have wronged me, without
any limitations.

Yet, I feel trapped by it all, still entangled within
the web of expectations. In the midst of it all, I must remember
that I have to go through this journey to understand why I am here.
I have tasted love, its sweetness fleeting and its bitterness lingering.
I feel somewhat used by this kind of love, but mostly, I am left feeling
confused;-  drained and perplexed, pondering the worth of
entwining myself in a web of a jealousy, masquerading as  
now being a mere companion. I have been betrayed by those
I loved the most, let down by my own family, as if they were
the last people, I expected to break my heart. Feeling the sharp
betrayal of a backstab is a crippling pain, but the anguish intensifies
when you see the perpetrator, carving that very scar.

I am amazed by the immense depth and breadth
of how a few months of disappointments can feel like a
year's worth of pain. I cannot possibly quantify the extent of
this excruciating experience, but I can count every tear shed along
the way. The first half of this year has presented an array of
challenges worthy of a lifetime.

Nevertheless, I remind myself that it is a journey,
that must be taken one day at a time, handling whatever
comes my way. It is difficult to always be happy, but I strive to
find moments that bring a smile to my face, conserving my energy
to heal from the tougher days instead of pretending that
everything is fine.

I'm less of a mathematician, but still counted
as a human who sometimes makes a bad decision.

As the eyes hunger for everything;- they also
betray me on a constant treason.

Misplacing most of my why's to sound a bit wise,
still that's no disguise;- to displaying true wisdom.

It is truly a strange irony;-
to ponder upon the behavior of a foolish dog,
daring enough to bite the hand that nourishes them,
Just as a bee daydreaming about stinging their queen.

Tell me what sort of dreamer,
would fairly detest even a fragment of a tranquil sleep,
As someone who yearns for the warmth of love and
affection, but hurriedly scorns its gentle embrace.

I do ponder the contradiction within,
a peacemaker who harbors an aversion to perfect silence;-
A baffling realization to witness, how swiftly one can
turn against the very source of provision and care,
—that which sustains them.

Yet we persistently turn our backs on our Creator...

These thoughts of you,
are like the smallest pebble to the grandest mountain,
everything holds a certain value, contributing to
the intricacies of this existence.

And there must have been
an unpleasant disturbance in my heart; as if a pebble
was thrown in my eye’s still waters- causing many ripples.

Oh, it’s perfectly strange;
not quickly recognizing your own tears
anymore;- some people do cry better in the rain.

If I could have a taste of everything,
I’ll probably die, before I dine—with a jaded smile;
Cos everything that you see, is really not worth the time.

Objects in the mirror,
aren’t so clear as they want to appear; trying to pretend
life isn’t so hard,- only disguises itself behind a facade.
While living an empty dream in a bottle;
sometimes I feel so trapped in that same bottle's charade.  
Forever thirsty for more of time; the flesh never truly satisfied,
and attempting to shed the past, with bones so long dried.

There’s question of
whether, all we really desire is truly attainable,
Some of it feels so unavailable; giving someone a whole universe,
for them to prefer some space. Even when there’s a lot of
relative justice- there are moments when I struggle to
connect with others, cos I don’t feel as relatable.

Where’s the point of
crying out your piece of mind, even when they claim
to call all of your actions, sharp sometimes?  
And do you see yourself clearly in a broken mirror
sometimes- with its shards piercing right in your eyes?
Cos if you can’t afford to take it all in, you’ll just cut
a moment short, with that broken piece of mind.

I got to find a piece of mind; -a fine piece of mind.
/// How fun to be so young, so dumb, so young
to bury a piece of time in an unthinking dream.
Lost myself inside a piece of an idea- right now
I don’t even know where to begin.

Trying to step into the next best thing; hope I don’t
overstep, hope I’m not overdressed – dying to suit
in, for everyone I’m trying to impress.

Press me out for my words; hoping I don’t cause
controversy, to be another story in the press.
Sometimes I find myself another kind of path,
—God, I hope that doesn’t mean that I digress.

Praying as a mess; message me a beginner’s guide
to confessing all of sin- feeling misplaced like a pencil
for a million words; drawing out words for a heavy
prayer to begin.

I’m trying to find that piece of mind
-a piece of mine; digging inside of my chest.

Extending what little time I have left; giving it a
good stretch— a stretcher. Living in my own skin as
an inconsiderate guest- looking for comforting words
when I don’t feel comfortable in my own skin,
when I feel so depressed. And would the gates of
heaven still remain open, if I wrote it an open letter?

I’m trying to find a piece of a never-ending mind,
but I’m forgetful so many times- so never mind.

The eve draws close,
endeavoring to tame my frights,
Yet the sun, a superior champion,
steals the limelight.

////It’s a subtle reminder;
a constantly temporary kind of repeat
—sometimes I cry myself to sleep,
and think to myself, “Hey, was it all
just another beautiful dream”

Procreate all of our conversations;  
to produce life in their endless longing words.

You, my beloved, hold a coveted title; as every time I speak
of you, my words are filled with a true and unyielding love,
that resounds ecstatically throughout any room.

For every conclusion of my speech, should leave
no doubt in your mind. Knowing without any hesitation
or reservation, that I love you – wholly, completely,
and unconditionally.

As we immerse ourselves in this ecstatic embrace,
calling upon the stars; hoping they too know our name
—they bear witness to our passion, twinkling with joy
as they watch us revel in the depths of our blissful affection.

And in their silent presence, we are reminded of
the vastness of the universe and the infinitesimal yet
profound impact of our love. We lie there, bathed in
the shimmering light of the stars, we cannot help
but plan for the future.

A subtle gaze into these mesmerizing brown eyes,
captivated by the intensity of the desire that burns within
them— these eyes are like two galaxies, vast and infinite,
in which I find myself happily swirling; as the joy of all
my dreams, are like a kiss that pulls me in deeper into orbit;
a celestial dance fueled by this magnetic connection to
achieve all that seemed so impossible.

The pull is irresistible, as I find myself helplessly drawn to
it, unable to resist the gravitational force of passions.
A moment of cosmic unity, I yearn for you with a fervor that
surpasses time and space. The past becomes insignificant, and
all that matters is the present, the unyielding longing for a
touch, an embrace of accomplishments, playing out in my
life’s celestial opera.

Wide eye tears; crying all the same
—for the ringing memory bells that call your name;
all of the kisses in French are in Notre Dame, that
had placed a thousand stars in my sight’s eyes.

The blaring drums to the sum of
a sound of love — it was loud, it was rough, disastrous,
distant, and sometimes so longing; but also so caring,
hopeful, understanding, peaceful, building, and close
to my heart in the simplest kind. Vanilla like, still it
was a taste so hard to explain.

For that I am truly grateful, even if it felt brief,
I did get my plateful. So until my next fill of what
I get to feel so familiar: I look forward to falling
in love again.

Tell me,
do you think about me  now, and then;
Do you think up the version of me from  
now, or then— either as a noun, or just  
as an afterwards friend?

I’d long sincerely to be misplaced under the
stars, basking in the ethereal glow of a night sky.
—ostensibly jubilant; as it mirrors the depth
and passion of a love once shared.

For in this beautiful space we’ve created
together; every moment becomes a
beloved memory, beautifully etched into
the fabric of space, time and my soul.

Perchance, I would have given
you the world; — that which I do not own,
still could I own the very space of your past
broken heart?