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Stepping stone,
so low
I will behold your worth
as no one else does,
I will kiss your bruises,
so delicate
so insecure
brim your gaps,
make you strong again
*I like broken things
Your memory flickered
in my head,
like a candle light.
My heart is bruised,
and my words
have tasted bitter
in my mouth.
Rolled your name
over my tongue,
tasted like tobacco.
I ached for you,
like I ached for a cigarette
but those are two addictions,
which I must quit.
I took your pictures
all down,
tried to forget the soft words,
and sweet nights.
You stained my sheets,
like you stained my heart
with sweat and kisses and words
You will stay in my bones
for as long as I live
We are the last song of Zion.
All we ask of you
is a longer road
to carry the weight on.

What are we to do with
gray forms
or a silver spoon?
We are starving for color.
Open the window,
let the light in.

We are the lost heart of Babylon.
All we ask of you
is a better note to die on.

We were free once,
we were free.
We were blue skies.
We were sparrows singing to the trees.

We are the namesake of Eden.
All we ask of you is redemption.

We were free once.
We were free.
We we're blue skies
We were sparrows in the trees
We were alive once
We had dreams
We were free once
We were free

Now, are you filled with regret?
Was it the only way.
Do the memories fill your head
Do they waltz with the pictures on the wall
Where she wants, patiently
To **** you all.
I stand here as a woman,
as a stubborn girl with pride.
I stand here as a college student,
one just trying to get by.
I stand here as a writer,
with no words to heal the pain.
I stand here as a mother
with two angels to my name.
I stand here as a testament,
to every failed suicide.
I stand here as a story,
where it goes I will decide.
Dancing dark eyes---
darting ***** bees
that come flying
seeking nectar from my lips,
in a quest that goes beyond the limits.
                         You are the scented wind
                         with salacious intent
                          from billowing *"*****" fields
                          wildly grown in Western ghat mountain ranges,
                          that are  in full bloom.
You twist and swirl,
lift me up
and take to the golden cloud
that has a mystic spell
where my mind rejoices,
beyond the binding of time
in Shiva's dance,
while his consort Shakti resonates
with every beat of the divine drum
that echoes my heart.
******---Marijuana
Followers of the Shakti (female energy) path(called" Shakteyas"/shakti sadhakas) for self realization
make use of ' Five M 's(Madya / intoxicants, Mamsa / cooked meat, Matsya / cooked fish, Maidhuna /ritualistic ***, and Mudra / gestures to stimulate dormant energy)
As it is against the more desirable, subtle path, this is considered the lesser path or" left hand path"(Vama Marga).Supreme consciousness could be attained through various paths.
Lush mango groves
where  the musky scent of mango blooms
once wafted making the
bulbuls sing in ecstasy
from morning till sundown
                  are reborn as gated communities,
                  where grim seriousness parade.

                      In sun drenched vineyards,
                      shadows of dreams,
                      wanting to dress up as IT parks, spread.
                      Bangalore barters its  medley of colors and smells
                      for prosperity in terms of greenbacks,
                      as people learn to be 'smart' players,
                                       and more and more get 'Bangalored'*
                                       from around the world.
Corn fields that danced to the tunes
of  the songs of  toiling farmers
go missing within days.
To match with the new mood,
nature, in this green paradise, till not so long ago
shamelessly wears the  unnatural with style.
*Bangalored: The word, an American coinage means outsourcing work
by multinationals to cities such as Bangalore known as silicon valley of India, to save money.
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