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Niranjan May 2021
Kiss me she said,
I kissed her hard.
Now with more effort
'My Lips', she said.
I kissed her hard,
but shook her head
and came more close.
"The other lip", she whispered.
Niranjan Mar 2021
She slid my hands through her thighs and wishpered, " Your parchment, your pen, now write that poetry as our lips moisten sippin on each others words.”
Niranjan Oct 2020
Statue By the River

A stone white statue was built
by someone on the banks of
the foggy river by the pines

The statue was sitting on a
wooden bench,
the way it was built
white as snow and lone as the artic

The day came, that i saw
A man sitting there with the
statue of a lady, white as snow
and lone as the artic

A distant view i had of them
He held her hand as if
trying to get a part of her
sadness...whilst looking at a
pale eye with a dead stare

I thought to myself
why the sculptor made this,
if to e left lonely by the banks

The man talked and spend time with her
in a way as if she was alive
by each day the pale woman was more and more alive

I had seen him laughing with her
I had seen him contemplating
the beauty of the foggy river with her

The day came i saw him on her lap
resting his head while crying
as she moved her fingers through his fine light hair

That day she was more human than any of us coukd ever be...

Feeling ones pain and sitting there in scilence,
contemplating, it was more human than any godily miracle

I gazed upon my hand,
to see me holding the statue the other day
looking at a pale eye with a dead stare....
a drop of tear
           of joy
           of completion

Now i know why the sculptor built this..,
not to e left lonely y the anks of the foggy river
But,
for the ones who are left lonely
Niranjan Sep 2020
Sleep well my child

So many ways we part the sea,
still always a bowl not free from thee.

Taverns were full
Streets were empty
Corners with rags
and lust reek of
blood and puke.

Lullaby's were heard from far up towers
Towers of guards with guns and nukes.
Their chants of stories make them doze...
Goodnight, sleep-well
if you wake up it's luck

Most men dead if       sins they've done
Most men living with praise of sins
Stories of women with lavish lives reeks of greed and lustful crime.

Along came wars of race and hood
Along came slaughter of love and care
Along came mornings with smell of blood
Along came nights of wandering souls

Sirens were heard in  
place of roosters
Lights were dim in
place of moon
Knives were used to  
part and share
Well know its used
to **** all thoughts

So, sleep-well my child the fire will rise..
Better luck next time if you are shot.
Niranjan Aug 2020
Room

Im in a room filled with books wine and music
In the corner there is  a bench where my cat sleeps in peace along side the flowers i just bought...lillies.

Through  the window i could see sunlight even when its night..
After all its always morning but barricaded by the clouds.

Theres a sewer outside the room which has a pleasant aroma cause it holds the rich peoples waste..ain't that true..?

Im in my good clothes..i smell good...i have shoes..and my arms are crossed
Still ican't stand up, i cant move..like the earth is above me..

My room is clean but not to others..
They see sand in it flesh in it rotting..degrading
After all they put me here..,in my coffin

And i'll be here in my room for the rest of the time cause above me my tombstone reads
I was there
I am here and
I will be there..
Niranjan Aug 2020
Humane
.
.
No one stood up for me...
No one stood up for me...
I overheard this and I didn't even move a muscle
Niranjan Aug 2020
Tranquil taste

Nothing was too short
not even sorrows of light and dawn or even the virtues which she still beholds..

Not many were able to see
the glimmer that made them glow..
Not many were able to hear the tales of fortune left behind.

What was she a garden of solitude or a grave of fireflies
Or imagine being a garden full of fireflies  
were stars came down and skies teased them back

Not wind nay storm
Nor flood of any kind
No cries of immortal pain
Never starve for unwanted graves
Or ever beg for blasphemy in love..

She may uphold the virtues she had
the world may think of creeps and crawls
While she may think of nothing but more
than a blissful moment of tranquil taste.
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