drinking hot coffee in summer
ice cream for the winter
hot spices on a mild tongue

cold showers in the morning
challenge to how I'm writing
drowning depth in my deep thoughts

reasons to explain the dream
opposition to say I'll never make it

it's a subtle pain,
to inspire me to push through it

I am in quite a predicament, you see
There are new textures I can feel
This corduroy feels soft to me
The moment is only now and only real.

I melt into warmth, and only warmth
Carpet is the only way I can describe this
Patterned and aligned but soft
My fingers weave a pattern with each kiss

The taste of a smoker
A familiar taste, knowing and real
It does not bother me
A strange sense of intimacy I can feel

Lingering touch, further reaches
A gentle holding of the fingers
I think about it for too long
A bit too long

This kiss is different, and that is new
Lips match, perfect in time
A warm tingle, a passionate pull
Something I have longed to feel

I suppose I’ve started to write poetry again
That’s how I know its ******
Because now I’m in my feelings
And hard decisions ****.

To be an artist is to be free, free of my own thoughts and ideas
Free from other's expectation and standards
Free from everything except the artist itself, me
I carve, I paint, I draw, I create
To satisfy my mind and souls' desire
Artist conveys what's in their head
Artist express what's in their heart
Artist tries to build connection in between people's heart
Just like how chef prepares a dish
WIth thorough preference of smell, taste, and texture,
Artist prepares masterpiece to appease the eyes with perfect features
Life is like an art
With an artist giving color to one's life
An artist never doubts his own outlook
Artist uses it to be converted into book
A book, full of experience and emotion
A book, soon to be shared and unfolded to the nation
When an artist loses its way
Art will find you to make you stay
In silence, in chaos
It doesn't matter
As long as it's always what we choose.

I imagine you
ever blooming
ever radiant
ne'er had you budded
nor will you wilt
poise pristine
artful to the letter
my memories of you
shall ne'er
idle in memoriam
they are
crisp and clear as daybreak
the sight of you breaks me open
not the raging flow of magma
nor the rushing of a river
neither the shooting of a star
ne'er the passing of time itself
what flows from me is pure
as it must be to be worthy
of your charm and wit and passion
my veins pulse with imbibed inspiration
I drink you in like forests drink the universe
slow and gentle
patient and careful
deep thirsts masked by soft touch
lust of your form masked by song
for your beauty is lyric personified
you are desire's orchestra
a tempest of pleasure
a monolith of midnight
towering with grace
casting shadows that embrace
long, oh, long I wait
in the dark
of the folds of your flower
caressed by your mercy
your silken petals soothe me
as I dream
as I pine
for a taste sure to be sweeter
than the bitter chaste of loneliness...

Talent was not worth it,
Until it turned into skill
Rise against the odds
To go in for the ****
Thought it was supposed to be silky smooth,
Thorns in a bed of roses lay still
Hate it for the un-nerving truth
Victory accompanied by a sunken face
And a broken tooth,
What once was
A mountain to climb,
Now within my reach
The peak of ascent
Toiling along the way
A threshold to breach,
A view so spectacular
I could live there forever
Alas, the only thing worse,
Than an incoming frown
Is the dream I was having
Of getting to the top
Without ever putting a foot down,
A ghost of perdition
A drunken semaphore of
Nihilistic fortitude
Scarring enough to even put
Any effort in the journey,
Thinking all I had was
What I ever needed.

I once met love.
He made me laugh every day.
He couldn't bare  away from me.
He wanted to offer me the stars.
And he did...
holding me tight
every night,
on the warm sand of summer
under the night sky
with a million stars above
and the moon up there, like a guardian
and sometimes a bottle of wine.
Sweet words. Gentle touch. Passionate love.
Just a summer ago.
And after that
there's been only silence.
Silence still. Frozen feelings. Frozen soul.
I'm just frozen in silence.
Because my heart is mourning...
for I once met love.

Something isn't right, if

you live more than usual --


during holidays.

Tasting the cold rain
of her lullaby dreamscape
I floated through
her open streets
like open veins
where we carried out
our transfusion of love
such was
the umbilical cord of trust between us
such was
a long night's passions
not a drop wasted
she swallowed
the waters that were spilt in open corridors
rivers wide and winter white
ever fluid as they wound their way
into her dreamscape
spinning webs of reality from potential
and on nights
like this
I dream of who would have become if she loved me
but she dared not
and the cobwebs never spooled again
never cast their wide net
out into the hungry world
where babes go to die and ne'er do wells
eat breakfasts with smiles
I waited for her
and she never came
it was then I knew the brutal cruelty of the world
how
promises age
like foul eggs
wherein one thinks oneself soon to be fed
cracks open the vault of life
and goes mad
from the sight of the bitter truth
that all men die of heartache
long before their bodies give out
long before they never heard "I love you"
from tongues not forked
and lips not peppered
with the winter wonders
of myriad men
to whom love was also promised
and never made manifest

A poet fiercely

yearns for a louder silence --


than the other speaks.