lightening doodles
night and city lights dissolve,
more or less than than real?

this flowered grove looks,
a grand bouquet from above
storks, quiet , dozing

sometimes just sometimes
when i'm up i start to frown
because i start to wonder
if the up is worth the down

We took a drive. I had things to say.
My heart was aching, shattered.
I rehearsed the words throughout the day,
Believing that it mattered.

I met you then but I only saw,
The mask you chose to show.
If you were suffering underneath,
Then how was I to know?

I said,
" Your grey facade hides worlds so vast,
Naked flesh of fruit, beneath the rind.
Your future's informed by its turbulent past,
Full understanding; when you look behind."

You said,
" You try too hard, you think too much.
You never live for now.
Wrapping words around the wrong ideas,
You miss the point somehow."
"Stuck in place, because it's safe,
You're too afraid to grow.
If you had begun to change your fate,
Then how was I to know?"

You saw me within a grey facade.
I saw you within a grey facade.

We could not say more, it seemed sufficient,
That love is patient.
Love is kind.
Love is ignoring all that came before,
Loving only the moment.
That coin of the realm: elusive, bright.
Your grey facade hides
Such a beautiful light.
Love has many names.
Call any one aloud and I will answer.
I will come.
You will see.
You'll see me clearly, even behind this grey facade.

Up on the cliff face,
Mountain goat's acrobatics.
Wind's hands undermine!

A corpse buried six feet deep under the earth,speaks
peacefully to the night that extends to galaxies
that cyclically take birth and embrace death.
A night owl sits like a rock cut figure, it's ears
opened to the heart beats of sleeping silence,
finds out the secret that lie beyond life and death,
immaterial to the beings that mastered the art
of hitching a ride on the wings of  transcendence.

She is clad
in white,
even the stain
on her satin
underwear
is pallid.
As tear drops
well up
in both eyes,
she pleads,
"For God's sake
always wear white,
Do not  provoke
the bull in heat
by showing red
in front of the
huffing beast"

Spare a thought
for her, discern
her reasoning
well, see her plight
with open eyes.

Men in black
with violent streak
imbued from
stone age powwows
are on the march
through high streets,
colonizing homes.
Media, self obsessed
and power drunk,
periodically shriek
make mandatory
noises to please itself,
but to no avail,
in a globalized world,
strangely  getting
polarized in micro level
men and women, remain
just pawns pulled in to
the simmering cauldron
of boiling  turmoil.

But see this;
a woman in white,
holding up a white flag
she signals surrender
in abject fear,
can't attack her, right?

Ah! such a happy mess is this,
the credit goes to us all
but no one, contributed to it ,
so generously couldn't
recollect the precise recipe,
or what ingredients went in to it,
have no hope of a mess exactly like this,
or taking steps to avoid it altogether!
A happy mess is an aberration of course!
Behind every mess are muddled minds
that look for it consciously or not,
an enviable coincidence of
thoughts craving to create disorder.
Out of compulsion of some sort
they seek gratification in it,
but look at their humbleness
all they say is this,"**** happens"

A white porcelain coffee cup
she gently raises up to her lips
with a satiated look on her face;
this gift, a much awaited moment
attained by satisfying her yen
not for choicest, gourmet food alone.

Those dark droopy eyes, suggest
a luxurious languor, she does cherish,
as long as the after tremors would last.

Slyly she looks at his swollen red lips
with a crafted guilt, it gives her yet
another high, sending ripples over
her *******, his eyes do a recce on this
then go up to her lips,finds his ardor
last hour had  made them crimson all over,
throwing his head backwards he smiles at her.