So let's add another numbed night to this comatose plight.
Searching for something meaningful at the bottom of bottles,
And striving for amnesia through entangling bodies.
This is the dance of the dead.
A decadent display of flesh and famine.
A hunger so primal that we've lost our appetite for
The more filling of feelings.
You're tugging at my heart strings,
But she's ripping off my clothes.
And the opposite embodied is a worse torture than most
Would care to know.
But I do have a thing for pain,
And you're the object of my infliction.
In this scar making moment, I'll succumb to that addiction.
But your mark is growing thin, love.
And the evidence will fade.
Your territory’s waning and you have no stake to claim.
These are the lies we lead in this life or something like it.
Barely scraping by until the day turns to night.
My calendar is filling and yours is bound to burst.
You can pencil me in if you're bored enough.
I'll accept through the hangover and give you sleepy eyes,
Knowing full well we'll both end up in another's bed tonight.
She'll touch my chest though it does not heave for her.
And I'll take a shot to make this feeling better.
She'll want to spoon but I'll push her to "your side".
And I'll say I'll call tomorrow, but when I speak, I tend to lie.
I'm taking up your offer on this latest lifestyle,
Where cowardly nonchalance is the most fitting attire,
And the heart that's been hemmed to my sleeve,
Is the most out-of-date accessory.
This game is treacherous, this game called "love".
My only wonder is: when we will stop playing ourselves.

The world's a bubble; and the life of man less than a span.
In his conception wretched; from the womb so to the tomb:
Curst from the cradle, and brought up to years, with cares and fears.
Who then to frail mortality shall trust,
But limns the water, or but writes in dust.
Yet, since with sorrow here we live oppress'd, what life is best?
Courts are but only superficial schools to dandle fools:
The rural parts are turn'd into a den of savage men:
And where's a city from all vice so free,
But may be term'd the worst of all the three?

Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed, or pains his head:
Those that live single, take it for a curse, or do things worse:
Some would have children; those that have them none; or wish them gone.
What is it then to have no wife, but single thralldom or a double strife?
Our own affections still at home to please, is a disease:
To cross the sea to any foreign soil, perils and toil:
Wars with their noise affright us: when they cease,
We are worse in peace:
What then remains, but that we still should cry,
Not to be born, or being born, to die.

Amidst a day cloaked in grey and cold
Like it was dressed in the angry, divisive garments of the world.
I saw a thing of beauty.
Shed tears in my heart and rejoiced in the quiet.
It unfolded before me holding hands with my friend.
The beauty and power that lie deep in the depths of us.
That come forth when we see truth.
With threatening ideas and analog notions;
     honor, faith, sacrifice, commitment.

Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder?
So if I don't see it, it must not be beautiful.
If I don't believe it, it must not be true?
I saw a thing of beauty,
     whether you did or not
          whether you can or not
                Make a mockery if you wish
The fear of grace,
     the weariness of believing,          
          the soul worn out from abuse,
                or neglect or excess
To see a beautiful thing and turn it into fools gold
  When pure gold is too bright for eyes that have grown accustomed to the darkness.

I saw a thing of beauty,
I don't want to own it,
I just want to share it.
We will see this beauty and  be afraid together.

The nerve of me.
To let my fascinations take a hold of me.
To let passion take control of me.
And to put all selfishness below me.

How dare I
how dare i stand down my guards
Pledge my commitment and forfeit my heart.
Deny all thoughts of resentment
And consistently give my all.

How could I.
Mistake this for truth.
Remain patient and follow suit.
Invite in such a vibrant connection without sufficient proof.
Invade such a strength filled heart and forget to take the loot.
Because ****. . .

I'm stripped of every thought I once thought that I knew.
Forced to be renewed.
Forced to stand alone, when all I've known is standing as two.
Left to wonder, what the **** do I do.

I guess,
Maybe,
I chose you.
I did not simply
Let you in.
I ushered
And pushed
And forced you
To fill the empty
Space.
Left by others.
Forgotten others.
Now,
The bars on
My heart
Are strong.
They leave
The remembered
In sight
But too far
To touch.
Because you
Have filled
Space left.
But still it remains
Empty space.

You look at me with your face so grim
And the fury in my chest begins to dim
Like a little child I take your hand
I can forgive you this time. I will understand.
Oh, but your mad and I can tell
I can see the anger in your face begin swell
Well what was I supposed to do?
was it so bad of me to run away from you?
you says the words that strike the cords
And I feel my own heart fill up with the wards
That kept me from being hurt

But even after it all
Despite all my walls
We kiss and make up
For I cannot resist
The sweetness of that kiss
We both knew the sacrifices we were making
to both of our families we had been faking
we could not resist the temptation
of another faked relation

Your old manipulations though can’t harm me now
I have grown strong even though I know not how
I would say its divine intervention I guess
God gave me this strength at the sight of my distress
he gave me this power for me to use
It is going to go where ever I choose
With this strength I have been given I am done with you

So goodbye to Facebook and all that implies
And to the cellphone talks and our forever goodbyes
So long to the fights that hurt us both
And to the pains that shook us when we both broke our oaths
Good bye to the manipulations
And all of the lies
That tied us down
And forced us to cry
And to the hypocrisy of it all
To be lying to ourselves and to loved ones as well
Even though we wanted them to accept us
Above it all

And you stand there with fury in your heat
Because it was me who was the start
For the cracked foundations
That tore us apart
But you know what?
It takes two.
It takes two.
To take what we had and make us *******.

I did not live until this time
Crown'd my felicity,
When I could say without a crime,
I am not thine, but thee.

This carcass breath'd, and walkt, and slept,
So that the world believe'd
There was a soul the motions kept;
But they were all deceiv'd.

For as a watch by art is wound
To motion, such was mine:
But never had Orinda found
A soul till she found thine;

Which now inspires, cures and supplies,
And guides my darkened breast:
For thou art all that I can prize,
My joy, my life, my rest.

No bridegroom's nor crown-conqueror's mirth
To mine compar'd can be:
They have but pieces of the earth,
I've all the world in thee.

Then let our flames still light and shine,
And no false fear controul,
As innocent as our design,
Immortal as our soul.

Waiting for him,
Was like a,
Mindless abyss.
I thought,
This time I should give it a shot.
Add plus venture,
Into a realm full with pleasures of flesh.
Rather waiting to lie  in sepulcher.

Thence came the wooers,
On horses, chariots, planes and cars,
Courted me to the foreign lands of brand new emotions.
Greasy, exotic, curious  and even obscure ,
To satiate my hunger,
They poured,
And I sinfully devoured.

Ooooh!
A whip here.
Ouuch!
A tickle there.
Aahhhhh!!
The sheer unfolding of their classy work.

Every night lusciously they came,
Wrapped me in an awe of satire, skepticism and imagination,
Not to say of the bruises they gave,
Tears I shed of Anger,Pain ,Love and Hate.

Still I  followed them blindly and agape,
Because a new world in me was taking shape.
Of Shakespeare, Freud, Tolstoy, Eliot, Byron, Wordsworth and my then fav,
the great Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
A medley  of fantasy, fact-fiction, comedy, realism and romance.
Oh!
What not I chanced upon.
All emphasizing emotion, imagination, scientific and natural thought.


There was no stopping of these gnawing hunger pangs,
None lasted more than a one night stand.
The foolish me, unaware, cascaded in the fatal encounters,
Not knowing the pangs are of soul to reach the supreme ******.

Thence came a Seer
The Prophet,
The Wanderer,
The Forerunner,
It was as if he can rip me with his thoughts,
And see my soul through that tear…..

I distinctly remember that divine night,
The moment I held him in my desirous hands,
I was no more in dual fight.
Things started falling into place,
Was no more in that abysmal space.
Still I would say,
It’s a current phase.
This soon would also evade.
New Lover ,
For every new night…

To cut a long story short,
Just so,
Because of your low attention span,
The lover, the poet , the wooer
Was the great
Khalil Gibran.

Through trembling darkness
I fell

Am falling

In laughing breezes
I was

Now not

Everything I was before
Replaces
               what I

Had

Merry Margaret
  As midsummer flower,
  Gentle as falcon
  Or hawk of the tower:
With solace and gladness,
Much mirth and no madness,
All good and no badness;
    So joyously,
    So maidenly,
    So womanly
    Her demeaning
    In every thing,
    Far, far passing
    That I can indite,
    Or suffice to write
  Of Merry Margaret
  As midsummer flower,
  Gentle as falcon
  Or hawk of the tower.
  As patient and still
  And as full of good will
  As fair Isaphill,
  Coliander,
  Sweet pomander,
  Good Cassander;
  Steadfast of thought,
  Well made, well wrought,
  Far may be sought,
  Ere that ye can find
  So courteous, so kind
  As merry Margaret,
  This midsummer flower,
  Gentle as falcon
  Or hawk of the tower.