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.

Train to

The train to the place was long
thick,hot,and locked..

Friends..,Indians..,countrymen...
People from all corners gathered in a long chain of dispensary boxcars..
waving their hands in traverse

A little girl stumbled upon the wilderness of the gang...
Laughing while taunting the gang
And crying while rejection of her taunts..

Nomadic **** the gang smoked
whilst  boxcars swept the wind along with the exhales...
the roads and the boxcars dazed...

The chain started to shrink..
those countrymen slept.., it became cool and everyone was liberal...

The train to the place was all that moved...

Made love

Its affection ,not in your beauty but in your beauty
Even when you are miles away i feel you close to my lips
Im moist even the scorch melts down the clouds within

Your lips i crave for..,
a touch, not from the fingertips but from the wet upper lip..
I'll bite them soft as you close your eyes in the essence of our kiss

I close my eyes
now not far but near as
i drift wavy in my sleep
And,
the ***** i have when i
wake up is the love thats
left within

We leave parts of us in the words we write
For our present selves to live and believe in
For our future selves to wonder
For our past selves to be remembered

-- Isn't that beautiful?

Writing lines like conversations
That live on as long as they're read
Never washed away from the imprints of history
The greatest things left unsaid

Reading minds from long ago
A place no one else will know
But see, in writing you get to be
Yesterday, today, tomorrow and forever

-- A legacy.

Last letter to Maya

Maya ,
I could hear the living
as i closed my eyes....
while when opened ignorance was a godly gift

A godly gift
of every man
ignorance liketh thee
as thou liketh ignorance
And as i am ignorant
         as ignorant i am

Maya,
I don't care for myself
as i thought i am no mortal
just as ignorance..,
'Twas stupidity

Maya ,
I am fed up
Discomforted , numb , beaten down ,
scars of lashes upon my woven back..
Woven with silk but covered by calluses of burdensome
I heave of being tired
every time i close my eyes

Maya,
'Twas the day i saw the beach
In sand i stood as i heaved for forgiveness
I walked to water
and found Im no God

I closed my eyes,
what a beautiful sight
I closed my eyes and heard the living,
It said .......

About the girl in yellow


Not so long ago,
I met a friend of my own
We had a time of short
where we explained each other what we saw.

Grey or white buildings in the horizon she said
Endless night skies i replied
The gang of vagabonds blabbered about ***** and women inside
whilst the vagabond outside blabbered to a girl in ecstasy

Quarrels and intervals came along
Not for long but for eternity i thought
The way i missed it, i missed it like none other
They way i cried about it, i cried about it like none other

Then came the mystic fog
Blurred up the past even the future for both of us
but at present i had a lamp
for me the fog was clear

Then there came a time i stumbled upon a friend i thought was long lost
Now she meant something more
As i knew i saw her inner light
Now it reflected on me as to guide me in the nightstorm

A storm so dark and dusty
as i coughed and cried my lungs out, preaching to the all known for a better way out
The light, the inner one took me and put me aside as an irish selki

Now i see in a better state
Better worse or better good yet to find out
Nonetheless iam calm as i hear her whispers

Breeze in my hair
I exhale and inhale good air
Unpredicted lustful reactions in me as i hear each word.
Maybe of grief or of gold it tickles in all of me

When i dream i am her
I think like her
I move like her
I talk and i hug and i kiss like her to myself
Here, i am no different
theres no shame in being a feminine while masculine
I am the way i dreamt about you
The way i thought
About the girl in yellow.