worship me at 3am only to repent at dawn
make 'i love you' sound like a hymn
whisper my name as if my body's a cathedral and you're in the confessional
let my lips carry the weight of your sins
you told me you weren't religious outside of my bed
so let me be your goddess and guide you to paradise
relish in my garden of eden, where no fruit is forbidden
drink from my fountain of life, for you are mine

I care far less
About what people think of me
And far more
About what I think of myself.

A colourful butterfly,
male of the species,
utterly romantic,
in his pattern of behaviour,
says it all simply
by the  his style of flight.
It is a kind of skiing
up in the air, as if on ice,
He practises it,  to tail her,
a duty he quite earnestly
took upon himself.

She is visibly pleased about
all the attention she commands,
revealed by  his spectacular aerobatics
her every response, tells it.

With his jittery moves,
he gives her good cover
from other pesky suitors,
with loud painted wings.

By flitting right to left
and then the reverse
he smears colors on her wings
his inadvertent gift, of love,
in the process of the courting ritual.

With his passion, he anoints her,
with all the fervour he could muster,
you'd see him tremble,
with uncontrollable delight.
as he defies the rules of the wind,
hovers over her as if she is vanquished,

Only she,sees it with a pair of different eyes:
"Love makes us both victorious,in this game"

the moon tonight my darling
riding the fluffy clouds of night
its aura a lovely ethereal blue
is like the skirt riding your thighs
and i'm thinking, oh that blessed moon!

She is spontaneous poetry, no need to be written,
a dam burst of emotions subtle,on what I float along,
a whirlwind at an unpredictable time of the season
looking for an intimate space to churn and churn and churn.

By now, I know this without her even hinting,
all her dark clouds will rain in torrents nonstop
in to my landscape, sultry, broad and tranquil
I am an open sky, a stage ready for changing realities
a cloudless calm now in meditative expansiveness,
ready to change from dark, cloudy turgidity
to it's contrast, white feathery fluff that's dreamy.

This time round, when she visited,she did lie naked
on my bed supine, looking at me wistfully for a while
in my mind's sky beams of morning sun criss- crossed
all the nine openings of my body tightly shut, I sat meditating.

But I felt her chaotic presence in the energy field spreading,
she hurriedly removed her clothes one by one,smiling
in the buff she alights on my lap,a butterfly on a flower was her,
by and by a sweet heaviness enveloped my *****, in union with hers

I hear the primordial boom of the big bang, refining as an "Om"
travelling sans any medium it goes outwards to expanding universe.
to the 1"Chidakasha" where everything begins and go beyond.

Her storm energy, Tantric, seeks alleviation of existential pain,
I hear my glowing inner eye whispering in  light to the far galaxies,
In one form she is so much, past present and future converged,
She is 2"Mahatripurasundari", great enchantress of the three worlds.
Shakthi, the feminine energy that moves earth, heaven and hell,
Kali, the dark energy, seeking sublimation through catharsis.

On me she moves like a tortoise deliberately,my nervous system reads,
She would defeat the hare and win the laurel, in yogic, trance I discern.

dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.

She's a woman of integrity,
She recognises her beauty,
And her specialty.
Knowing she's not perfect,
She reflects before she can react,
She may not be every mans desire,
But that doesn't matter because its not something to require,
Love and total attention from one is enough,
Lots of times she laughs,
At times she even bluffs,
When life gets rough,
She gets tough,
She's a survivor,
Her familys reviver.
She's a woman,
A woman of integrity.

couch!
ouch ...