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A smile
resembles a flower
sometimes, drawn on a paper,
or on a memory wall.Freshly painted.
Imagine me sitting
limbs akimbo, easy, relaxed,
free from all kinds of travel anxiety,
looking high,
at the far end of the transit lounge,
smiling,
looking back at a memory
of a girl/ incident/landscape
I now don't exactly remember,
when,
a girl, sitting across me
in a sort of airport fatigue
looking unreasonably perplexed,
asked, "Are you smiling at me?"
Was I? If only she was my memory!
She wasn't smiling, I noticed.
At the busy traffic junction,
lone woman,
                     in red track suit,
astride a motorcycle,
drenched wet in a sudden rain,
                          wait;
                           ­        *thousand eyed desire,
                                        court her in a hurry,
                                              before the red signal light
                                                           ­   turns green.
The scene  reminded me Marianne Faithfull in "La Motocyclette"(1968)
Shall I compare thee to a mysterious land
that recur in the explorer's dreams, and tempt!
When my eyes were set on you, those doe eyes flashed
a  message, captured by  my genes that made me set out
with a passion never once felt, before or after,
to  the  fecund land awaiting me  with fruits exquisite,
never once touched, none ever tasted.
Those lips in the first flush of youth, told a secret, sought for long,
in bushes birds were hiding in nests, woods were gentle and fragrant,
the little spring,  your  lovely secret, in spate at a distant hint of rain was somnolent,
the hidden sunny meadow invited one to dance,
here the explorer's quest found its mark.
*Though his spirit quenched and at rest, never again will he leave,
this dream, will remain the admirer of this landscape for ever.
beautiful girl, you are not ugly.
society is.
indeed you are so brilliant, society can only cower, trying to find someone else for the blame.
beautiful girl, you are not fat.
society is.
indeed it is so large and grotesque, spitting fumes of hate.
beautiful girl, you are not a *****.
society is.
condemning everyone's move, it's hypocrisy could paint the walls.
beautiful girl, you are not a ****.
society is.
throwing itself at every broken promise, silver-polished lie.
beautiful girl, you are not a freak
society is.
howling until all glance their way, foaming at the mouth with every inch of lunacy.
beautiful girl,
you are special. intelligent.
astonishing. inspiring.
phenomenal. mind-blowing.
breathtaking. remarkable.
stupefying. jaw-dropping.

society knows all of this,
but it wants to be the one on top.
so keep your head up, beautiful girl.
and smile.
smile.
smile.
Both hands of clocks,
on each passing hour,
clap childishly,
at the hour precise,
thinking, enigmatic time
was caught,
and arrested for ever,
at long last.
                    But  in every chime
we really hear, the gleeful laughter
of elusive time.
As kids, we thought wars were good,
fought with toy guns, the soldiers who fell down dead,
would get up and go home in the evening;
fallacies that shape us in childhood,
come to visit later baring fangs.
Less than a queen
she never would be,
the rules will be,
set by her, and others
have to fall in line,
she thought in her, inimitable
self centered way,
though selling it to those around,
had its own difficulties.
Soon she found,
that was not to be,
as the world has rules
set by its laws of movements,
so she fell apart;
he saw her from afar
getting ready, putting on
her space suit, to take off,
without a second thought,
to a parallel universe,
she once detested,
now found attractive,
as she thought it's easy
to curry favour,
the denizens, they will fall pray
to her quick fix charms.
Would she be aware
of the black energy,
that lurks everywhere.
"what else can one say
now that you have decided"
he told that himself.
Sliminess of the mermaid, makes me come alive, strange?
don't blame me for this, that you would think an aberration,
I've long forgotten the human logic, from the moment I realized,
fate has joined me with her, the mermaid, a  longing unfulfilled for long,

This sensual yearning sans prospect of consummation, baffles others
but not me, life has many dark alleyways that go nowhere. 
Aren't we illusions ourselves?  Viewing sun's intense ways and moon's
hesitant tranquilizing gaze, through water's blue buffer is narcotic.
From under water only a  cool simmer , different experiences,
fish fin caresses, guilty pleasures of carousals with masked shark beauties,
underwater world has no pains, ever heard about
stilling pain by swimming long distant nights?
*Or is it because, I don't see my own teardrops shed underwater?
ginko soft they pile, strewn on cobble
memories themselves concretely devised
cloister inward, revise, revise, revise:
debauched meanderings fully marble
escapes to curl the lip, adorable
here and there, whether smile sneer incise
linguistic pirouettes or paler lies
congest that wisdom indefinable --
the moment past moves on to feigning truth
with pretty rhyme, for ornamenting time
with myths to filter in an Avalon,
juggle perspectival paradoxic ruth
with fine meter fine, vernacular chimes,
and resolve the conflict like a dawn
Evil intentions of the night
gets deflected by moon's vigilance,
she raises her lamp above the clouds,
night taken aback, prowls behind the shadows.
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