My jigsaw is definitely incomplete,
Not spiritually anymore but physically,
This very jigsaw of my life I talk about,
You were a citizen of the heavens,
Thanks for condescending in my life,
And I will be happy to complete yours,
We just have to wait for few more years.

My happiness you are - know it,
Never let me find you gone even virtually,
This jigsaw will always be unsolved,
Your clear voice is of the heavens,
Thanks for accepting to be my wife,
An angel you have come but I am a vermin,
We marry when I succeed and the dust clears.

When I was a baby and a child till my teenage,
My nose was a pug, round and it was flat near my eyes.

It remained so cute till I was barely fourteen,
When it got a lifted ridge, I never knew.

Maybe until when I got the better of my own level,
When my acumen got sharper in the world's eyes.


When I was a baby and a child till my teenage,
My nature was so happy, jolly and gaily.

It remained so young till I crossed nineteen,
When I was greeted by the world's toxicity.

Maybe until when I got some more experience,
When I was left with a single option to grow up.


When I was a baby and a child till my teenage,
My choice remained between sweet & more sweet.

It remained so till I tasted what failure felt like,
When I felt their choices imposed on myself.

Maybe until I fell in the truest love of them all,
When I loved Mystery and only thought for her good.



I realize that she might feel constricted by my extreme love,
So I will let her experience more and would only caution her.

~for you~*

me you and this here
writ somewhat clothed
pretty ****, imaginative
words, six-pack abs,
sheathed in black lace thigh highs,
a verbal escapade to reality

lick the screen
dare...
lick yourself,
dare...
only fair,
words so fluid, so sensual,
when shared...
best, stupendous
commemorative

come to my bed,
come inside my tablet
thrive on pleasured kisses,
exchange of the essentials
bean~genes of threeselfs blended

what glory glorious
that moment,
can relive it,
with eyes contacted ..

where to here now hereafter,
when to here, poem return come once more
knowing we have jointed,
acknowledging the creation of a
co-memorizing-tionary diction,
recycling this one poem,
our commemoration coin
that only goes up in value
I love you...

is for:

*private, personal...
never public,
even if public displayed

oft, urgent,
burners on high,
committed
from body to paper
a battlefield commission,
*** boiling over,
passenger driver in the pace car

oft, hazy,
slow cooking stew
multi-flavored, spice twice
splendid blended,
meat for some,
potatoes for others,

always purposed,
sometimes even,
purposeful

pleasure two-folded,
twice arrived,
at birth,
given
mixed with hearty
birthing pains

given again,
when later reread,
stumbled on,
at a later time

you think,
albeit, quietly,
"****, ****,
prideful just enough I am,
claim me a title,
poet in the tradition!"

but the little voice whispers
poet!
poetry pride,
a deadly bromide!

satisfaction best when
the P is just
private, personal,
and the inner ear
smiles when you read your
words to yourself,
words you wrote,
to the cadence of thy heartbeats,
leaving you
smiling inward
and your harshest critic,
your biggest fan,
clap you on the back,
with the same hand