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A wizard of words,
he created from nowhere,
a wonderful space;
        the novelist made
        his characters play out his wishes,
through every little action, he penned
felt euphoric beyond words.

When one among them
 clearly his blue eyed girl
on whom he showered a lot,
his thoughts, writer's craft
             and  much much more,
  to make  her
  well shaped, a cynosure,
unexpectedly
turned cheeky and crossed limits,
the novelist got terribly annoyed.

*In the dead of night,
during a rendezvous with her paramour
the character had a
horrifying end.
She fell prey  
to an assassination plot,
hatched by the  patriarchal novelist
Have you ever caught a novelist red handed for character assassination?
 Apr 2013 Shashank Virkud
M Rose
i like boys
that hate themselves
and everyone else
and can find the time
to do so with me
 Mar 2013 Shashank Virkud
JM
You are going to die
before me.

I already know this.

You are going to get fat
and go completely blind
and probably,
eventually, they will
cut some parts off.

You are going to fall apart
in front of me.

I know this.

I still choose to stay.
I will be there
through all the appointments,
the stickings and pokings and cuttings and bleedings.

I have only wiped
a few *****
in my life.
Mine,
my son's,
a few babies
of friends.

I already plan on wiping yours
when you cannot.

I will draw
little sugar skulls
on your prosthetic feet.

I will make sure you always have enough medicine and it is always refrigerated.
I will help you
in and out
of the bathtub.
I will massage your legs
and arms
and back
and head
and neck,

every day.

I will make our boys breakfast
and walk the dogs
and make sure everything
goes back in the
same exact spot
and keep a file with all the pertinent medical information
so I can fill out all the paperwork.

I will take you to
all those folk rock shows you love so much
and describe the singers to you.

We will still garden together.
I can see you in a chair,
barking out questions
about our harvest and me,
going back and forth,
bringing you the biggest squash
to hold.

You see, I have given up thinking
I am ever going to
give myself to anyone else.

It is you and you alone.

So, when you start to fall apart,
and you will fall apart,
don't worry baby.
I am going to be there to wipe your ***.
Originally posted May 28, 2012
 Mar 2013 Shashank Virkud
Reece
...and they told me that you were to die within the week
I took your hand in mine and held you ever so close
Setting a bed for you to lay with your weary head
Your muscles are trying, your heart is sighing and you body is weak
I read your beloved poems and adored with you your favourite prose
But before the day's end, in mine arms you were dead.
 Mar 2013 Shashank Virkud
mask
I am sitting in an empty classroom
wondering
what exactly it is
that makes Fear
such a formidable enemy.

To be afraid
is to be without
Peace.

I am counting
the myriad forms
Fear has taken for me.

As that number
is the number
of times
Peace has been taken from me.
There were some books in the hall,
I was told that they were yours,
And the thought crossed my mind
That, were you ever to haunt a thing instead of place,
It would be books-
Your books.
The smell of the old paper
Filled my nose.
It was like walking into a library.
A book of English drama
Lay in the stack-
Heavy and black.
Your name scrawled on the spine,
White against the dark.
It reminded me of you,
So I took it,
Raggedy spine and all.
And now it sits on my shelf,
To reassure me, much the way you did.
Of what I’m not sure,
Perhaps just for a sense of solidarity.
Books will always be there,
Living and breathing,
Even when their owners have gone.
Martini glasses chime with floating olives,
Cocktail dressed, and music playing,
Clamoring voices and velvet hands.
Will I measure my life in coffee spoons? -
Or plastic sticks where olives used to be.
Salty sweet like the sweat of angels,
You hand me my drink,
Electricity passes through your fingertips.
I am shocked.
You sweep me into your arms,
We glide over the floor,
The rock songs play but we waltz.
“Take your time, Love”
I tell you but you never listen.
Will you ever learn,
Or will I?
We do this dance around
All the questions we will ignore,
Just for one more moment.
One more dance.
Just one.
The martini glasses clank.
Cheers to the moment,
It hangs in the air,
Wafting, dispersing, infecting our clothes,
it lingers.
Yes, that is a T. S. Elliot reference in there.
The presentation of angels
And the accompanying glimpse into the nature of heaven
Is affirmation that I have retired to a fantasy
It was the blinding white light
And the open mouth of the screaming boy savior
I refuse to acknowledge the idiosyncrasies that make him a man.
He is unique among us.
He is innocence.
He is pain and love.
And I will stay with him.
And I will choose the great spider that hovers above this desperate and infinite plateau.
Do not follow me.
The chai is weak
the chai is weak
I haven't gone to class for this... weak chai.
Is this why I haven't gone to class, once again?

I would get on that train if you weren't at home
still asleep, I know; but nevertheless waiting for me.
So I eat a yogurt and a bagel and drive around unknown places at 7am
when the sun has not yet peaked over the mountain.

And the girl inside of me is trying to crawl out of this woman who wont set her free
and everyone wants a piece of this mess "oh, if you want this, you have take it"
but I would prefer if you were to think again for this is not who I am,
and if you like her then please don't speak to me again.
 Mar 2013 Shashank Virkud
Lydia
You said you wanted me to come over, and even though it was nearly midnight, I agreed.
I hit every red light between here and your house: start stop wait and wait and wait and start just to stop and wait again, stuck listening to weight-loss infomercials,right-wing talk radio,that god-awful jingle for the lawyer that tries to sound like a wild-west cowboy.
Idling under these red cyclops eyes, I wanted
to tell you that this had to stop, that I was going home, that I’d see you tomorrow, maybe,but I finished the drive and remembered why:
the red scent of your hair;your lips against my neck, saying,“I’m glad you’re here. I’m so glad you’re here.”
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