Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Arjun Tyagi Dec 2013
The Trinity Hours, I open the fridge,
much like how between us, I created a bridge.
A row of flat Corona beers,
as flat, if not more like conversations when you were here.

I remember as I pick the bread knife
memories of a long departed past life.
I reminisce those shoddy arguments,
how the silver needles were just intoxicants.

Will you be happy now,
If I accepted your I TOLD YOU SOs?
Believe you me, regret is what I came back with
from the Rehab for the sick and addicted.

I lied awake at night,
cursing obscenities galore and cried.
Wishes for a repeated penultimate
hit of sweet ****** did not abate.

Missing both my Mary Janes,
stripped of all but poisoned veins.
I waited for Dr. Smith's prescriptions,
pseudo-trance, my stage for revelations.

Sunken eyes, then too blind to see
now look at silly internet memes.
Remembering how they made me laugh,
while you yelled on the phone you'd had enough.

I wish I had paid heed, when
the poison had been but a seed.
I wish I had lowered my own defense
when everything you said did not make sense.

Seven months and Seven days it took, finally
the doors of the Rehab from its hinges shook.
Let me out back to a shade of my former self,
this change without you is worthless.

Even though I am cured by societal norm,
I pretend to be, yet in my dorm.
Despite being free to roam the world,
this letter is dispatched from my own Rehab, with love.
Arjun Tyagi Dec 2013
An anteroom for his Mistress tended
By a man with empty smiles and sore aches
He slept in the corner while she the bed,
She was his all, his command, his heart-break.
For all her wanderings he never thought
About where she, leaving him, goes off to
A jealous inquisition did lead to naught,
The Mistress would pass without an adieu.
Always poised she, with her victorious pride
Given endless comfort of getting away
With all acts, omissions of wrong and right,
He, a mute never complaining, loving her each day.
   Relationships seldom come without a cost,
   Nigh impossible 'tis for a Slave to have it be lost.
Arjun Tyagi Dec 2013
Nomine Christi Amen
gushing,  came a crescendo;
Tenor, Alto, Baritone and Mezzo,
along-with an angelic Soprano.

In *Christ's
Holy Name
she sang with those of Faith.
While snow-laden trees
falsely sheltered a human wraith.

Unlike some on the street,
his lips were cold but not complaining.
Two frozen crutches, his legs; yet
heart warm and with purpose, beating.

A cigarette in his mouth,
skin like the smoke, deathly white.
Discomfort was an easy price
for watching his lover tonight.

As the final notes passed,
of the Diminuendo, into the night;
the pews were left in a rush of haste,
by people eager for homely sights.

Slowly the Gabriel Choir also
departed to its own ways.
The silent Soprano singing to herself
at the right of God, in wait.

Out by the door, he came,
and held her in full sight.
The neon-lit cheap Cross, humming
songs of static to a drowsy night.

And not unlike the moths,
fatally attracted to an electric glow,
he trudged along inside, to her;
ache of cold bones lost in the snow.

Expanded pupils relaxed,
dilated to a semblance of normalcy.
As his stoic eyes adjusted,
his lover, was all he could see.

A moonlit shaft of dust-motes
played above her head.
Whilst she watched him approach, with
Neptune eyes of the Ocean-bed.

Fifteen steps of a distance,
and he came to the edge.
Existed nothing beyond this, save
two entwined breaths.

A soft parting of her lips,
almost soft as a whisper.
Much like the snow melting
at the passing of an unyielding winter.

Rosemary, Sage and Thyme,
odor of her skin, him it assaulted.
Aroused his senses, memories
of a Home long discarded.

You took your time,
complained the Soprano gently.
Your Daddy's gift ran out of gas,
he rebutted amused, mildly.

They left the Church, as ordinary
as the Sun, to eyes unwary.
But a keen observer would compare this companionship
to His and Magdalene's Mary's.

++

The Glasgow George Square,
above two heads, it looms.
Residential Avian families echoed their voices,
with soft caws, chirps and coos.

The Soprano sings a merry hymn,
an invitation to them, a debate.
Gladly did the residents accept, 'tis sufficient
to say the dialogue did not abate.

And whilst she sang her tune,
they replied in equal measure.
He looked into his empty cigarette holder,
wistfulness is seldom a pleasure.

A kiss on the cheek and a hand,
tender on her waist he kept;
I'll be sitting over there, Eve,
come when you are content.

He watched her then; the Soprano,
joyous yet somber as she sang.
Till the bell from the Church, in finality,
ten times it rang.

The dialogue it then ended,
with the Avian families eager for more.
For not many deliver them, from
their monologues in the cold.

She walked to him, steady
a child of gazelles and nimblest of men.
The aura of her pulsating radiance,
begging to enfulge them.

Outstretched hands, even
on plain Earth devoid of danger,
to those in love may feel like
a lifeline to grasp and reach a place safer.

He took her in, his arms
all the Sanctuary she needed.
A sober expression, not always
reflects that the soul in fact is elated.

They walked again, two souls in the streets
of Cochrane, Ingram and Miller.
What trouble is distance to a man's feet,
when another pair walks together?

St. Enoch's came and passed too,
so did Dixon Street and its leaves, strewn.
Till the lovers came to rest, at The Clyde
reflecting the newborn moon.

Night-time, self-proclaimed
sailors still pedaled and rowed.
While The Clyde, with its waters black, licked
the bridge across the road.

Care for a swim milady?
he chided with a boyish smile.
Amusing the Soprano now and then,
was indeed worthwhile.

Eve, he uttered, at a roll
of her eyes. His muse, her name.
Quick pecks on the lips
could put woodpeckers to shame.

Its cold she replied, Mona Lisa
smile hiding amusement unknown.
He led her away away from the breeze,
It was time to go home.

++

A glorious smell of familiarity,
came with the inevitability of Dawn.
Arms at ease around her waist,
her head tucked under his jaw.

Oi, he asked her to wake up, attempts
in futility, not always are of lost cause.
A soft moan and to press closer
was all he received for a response.

Oblivious, on purpose with
no heed to the workings of the world outside.
In ceaseless comfort of slumber,
wrapped around each other they did hide.

Warm of skin, warm of heart,
a bed warmed by nightly hours.
The Soprano and he, content
in their lovely little Glasgow bower.

Moons waxed and waned,
Suns rose and fell.
Every breath escaping their lips,
only promise it would foretell.

For a man needs not much, save
his Love, his God and his Peace.
The Soprano sang each morn, blessed by the Lord
his life, calm as the Clydian breeze.

The Song of Life went on for them,
each day the same as last.
The Glasgow Soprano sang till his death,
but her Voice he took with him as he passed.
Arjun Tyagi Dec 2013
Innumerable aeons ago,
in the unformed valleys,
on the barren land,
two beings were born.
  From the roots of the elm,
and through the earth,
raised as man and woman,
with flesh were they adorned.

Oh what a sight it was,
the first breath of life,
the start of two worlds,
both so deftly intertwined.
  And once formed,
they glanced at each other.
It was beauty infinite,
to their new-formed minds

The man being braver,
took the first step.
Unaccustomed to feet,
he swayed and staggered.
  The woman being gentle,
took the second step.
Reached tentatively to him,
and fell upon the heather.

Both lay upon the grass,
and contemplated the next move.
But of this they were sure,
one they must be from two.
  He stood up weakly again,
pulled her to her feet.
Thus they stood as one,
and trode upon the dew.

Unknown to them,
was a vast unexplored land
to which they hitherto went
walking together always.
  They did not stop,
fearing the giant expanse.
Dark as otherworldly nights,
bright as unseen summer days.

Treading together
they discovered wonders.
About the living land
and more about the other.
  The woman saw more,
as she was observant.
The man learned skills,
for he was stronger.

After many rises and falls,
of the great warm disk,
They arrived at a great cave
near the shores of the blue serpent.
  It welcomed them
with the warmth of endurance.
With sanctuary and a haven,
where they finally laid.

Soon the giant expanse,
parted and poured water.
Sooner, the warm disk,
became even warmer.
  Then trees bared themselves,
and the earth withered.
The breath of the air,
would cause them to shiver.

And through the seasons,
she observed and he learned;
all that they could,
of their serene world.
  He would rise with the sun,
bring berries and fruits.
She would feed them,
and thus life did unfurl.

Now they had all they wanted,
comfort, safety and a home.
As human tendencies go,
they moved to each other.
  He would often see her,
singing to the air.
She would often see him,
in their heavenly slumber together.

Here was a woman,
who could tame beasts.
Here was a woman,
who raised bounty from the earth.
  She would sing and dance,
and the flowers would bloom.
She would sing in the cave,
warming heart and hearth.

Wherever she went,
life would follow.
If there was none,
she would be a new mother.
  Life into trees,
life into bones.
Life she would pour,
whenever she would sing.

And before he knew it,
he could not breathe.
Without her voice,
he became weak.
  And so it went without doubt,
she was the one he wanted.
Much more than his life,
his mate, his Eve.

Ten moons later,
while sitting under a tree.
Said he to her,
his heart with her heals.
  Through emptiness, loneliness,
and through hurt and pain.
Through heat, through cold,
through fall, through rain.

Her voice pierces all,
all gloom and despair.
It sets this man free,
from his flesh-bound lair.
  She brings bounty,
of the earth to their dwelling.
Fruits, nuts and flowers,
oh, so sweet smelling.

Her words are commands,
to beasts and birds alike.
This man before her,
his heart too, she did strike.
  He has waited,
watched, wondered and awed.
The ethereal voice she possesses,
fire from a dragon's maw.

He has watched her,
be one with nature.
He has seen her,
walking hither and tither.
  Her hair shimmers,
in the moon like a blaze.
Cascading falls of black,
his eyes stay fazed.
  She could not be Earthly,
of this he was sure.
Made for a higher meaning,
by her, he was to be allured.
  This was intended,
to flourish and to live
He loved her so, the tamer of beasts,
nothing could take her away from him.

Stay still, like a stone, he said
so this man can caress you.
Let him come closer,
'tis time for what is due.
  And as their lips met,
the withered fall transformed.
Spring came forth,
all dead life morphed.

Unable to keep silent,
God himself came forth.
Planted an immortal orchard,
of Apples before the two betrothed.
  Said he to her then,
we must never go unto the garden.
Defiant, the bearer of life, the woman said,
unwise it is to ignore the fruits laden.

So she passed, having said that
while he was left with his cries.
For what good are pleas and somber begging
to deaf ears and blind eyes?
  And as her toes bore her weight,
she plucked the ripest of the fruit.
Whilst the man's unheard shouts,
all they were to her were moot.

And before his eyes,
his love withered and died.
Disobedience with Deathly price,
the Apple from her fist he pried.
  He savored the juice it spilled,
ecstatic revelry of immediate sorrow.
How could he have walked alone,
in now an unwanted tomorrow.

Thus it came to pass,
that Magna Mater and Pater ceased.
Parents to Kingdoms to come,
the original Sinners before their children-to-be.
  As I sit here and wonder,
of the lovely sin, ancient and arcane.
God pardon me tonight,
For my Eve, I would have done the same..
Arjun Tyagi Dec 2013
Who art thou
to pass judgment so?
Harsh and unthoughtful,
what do ye know?

I have wiped
the tears you gave.
Gods ye are, if
live by thine name.

For dishonor
is what you are mourning.
While it is her name I
set on mine lips each morning.

Haveth you not,
Created ample distance?
Haveth I, the fool
not displayed resistance?

Cursed are ye,
in blessed disguises.
Ye, who laugheth at
thine Ungodly surprises.

Why? I needeth ask
why must i be subjected?
To these plays of
Satan your mate-in-bed.

Blind me, ye Cruel Ones,
for I, if ever stray,
thine throats shall
be mine prey.

Pariahs, Messiahs,
will not deliver.
The Absolution of thine name
as your hatred I shall utter.

Giveth my beloved,
surrender her unto me.
Unless thine aim,
is to faceth a lover's fury.

Throw, I pray, throw
thine jests Earthways.
But then watch me at mine death,
when I climb your celestial pathways.
Arjun Tyagi Nov 2013
This upholstery
my heart,
Padding my sleeves,
on display for you to see.

One look
over here,
You could have furnished,
before it was tarnished.

I worked
beyond notice,
mending and stitching,
hands never flinching.

The lines
and the patterns,
I deigned them such,
they waited for your touch.

The upholstery
now remains,
locked in the attic,
beyond you, fashion fanatic.
Arjun Tyagi Nov 2013
A falling footstep
lagging behind in slow time
how far shall it reach?

A white halo there
Abysmal luminescence
will the journey end?

Broken bushes here
burnt shrubberies over there
where is the gardener?

He must have tended
these dead flowers once in bloom
is the halo safe?

As it draws on me
a question was realized
am I sent to burn?

To lay in the pyre
a funeral bed is set
will the ashes stay?

The gardener comes
a sweep of eternal hands
another dead flower.
Next page