My response to you has always been focused.

This has gladly not been over looked by you.

I have become thoughtlessly biddable and amenable for you, especially in the morning light.

I am consenting, compelled yet not obliged ..........



You have discovered I am nothing but a girl from a circus.

I never tried to hide it. You weren't looking before.

Although I am a fan of amusements, fetes and even frolics, I do refrain from favoring all tricks.

My indulgence in foolery is a sport I plan to employ for a while yet.

Do I care for you to join me and see if I can defy your desire for extracurricular activities, as well as being your carer?

Is this a task a clown would pretend was a harmless challenge.

Perhaps not, perhaps so.



My roots are raw and loyal to the art of play.

I need you to know this and hold it.

A Spanish fly will not be able to satisfy my ears alone?

Sincerity can be a sharp business sometimes.



Obedience to attachment brings around a credulous familiarity thus a dependency

It could easily keep me awake to stare at many moons

It hasn't.



You have seen me stumble and look at you gingerly more than once now

You are not even delicate but you can be shrewd even when you struggle with expectation.



There is a soberness about your beauty I find pleasingly magnetic.

When you leave me alone without your mighty graze

I without question appreciate and yearn for your persuasions and rough tenderness.

Your actions maybe more savory in the afternoons

compared with your visits to my buoyant dreams but you do kindly hold open doors.

the man with the long hair caught my attention today.
something inside of him was luring me to stand by his side.
the weight of the captivating man's ambiance was suffocating.
i was drowning in the feeling of his life that surrounded me.
what was so special about the man with the long hair?
it's as if power was raveled in the beautiful mane that lay atop his head.
when our eyes met for the first time, there was something holding me there. Something's preventing me from pulling away.
there was something about his stare that was so bewitching.
i suddenly desired to know this man.
i longed to hear his story; to know why i felt so biddable just from his aura.
i turned to ask his name, but alas, he was nowhere to be seen.
and i was left standing in the middle of a busy street,
wondering how my life will be complete
without the man with the long hair.

the antecedent story would be a simpler telling-  how it came to be the boy and I and three cows.  one can imagine; one must.  we celebrated spontaneously in our biddable house and we lost track.  sufficient that I was aged and he much less.  our argument presented itself like this:  magic paper or magic milk?  boy he would hold the bucket above the paper and pour.  I noted this was an act magnificent and an act personal.  I was pulled into the boy initially but pulled back.  the milk though went into the paper; abandoned, freed, gone.  the boy did this once a day for three until the bucket was empty.  I said paper, he said milk.  our further experiments left the paper sunned and thus brittle.  we then had only our cows which led us to grass and hormones.  hormones led to science, grass to god.  grass to his mother.

One of the resourceful books unbeatable;
Children’s love, care and comfort biddable
Is none better than Reader’s Digest – capable.
Articles, reports, jokes and anecdotes audible;
All are present in it; all are undoubtable.
Changing the mindset of students capable
Is a new, systematic thing coachable.
Changing the world and its cannibal
Into the virtues and values bindable.
Explaining itself if anytime culpable;
And so is famous for being countable.
Teachers, parents, students ennoble
Reader’s Digest for not being enfeeble.
Leaders or followers who are like a crucible
Change their minds and be bendable.
Behaviour and conduct – key undoubtable
Will keep you atop, elevated, lofty and able.

Biddable and tame, a dog's soul secretes
through woeful eyes. Mastering his master,
his manipulation, more often than not,
pays off in extra treats. Chewy bits,
kept on hand to prove love, likened to
showing of character and mien.

Dog's demeanor, wags and soulful secretions,
only on display until he gets what's wanted,
then naps.

Some lovers like this, leaving
when favors run out.

Serving each other so well,
desire beyond needs fulfills
modest bearing with one another
in love. Lying down with proverbial dogs,
I have known the difference.

Risk of fleas,
for me,
is less complicated.

it is clear how she may echo petulance and malevolence; some do not dare even speak her name. her disposition is coy--almost skittish of those neighboring her. she has made her scar amongst those who have known her over the caducity, confirming a sphinx-like address. those around her relinquish her delicacy, overlooking the placid ancillary that fireworks from the spark of dereliction. concealed within is her saccharine and moonstruck revamped dynamism, a side of her eclipsed by timidity. a side of her remained blemished, terror-stricken, and polluted. a side of her that once was begrudged, is now veiling itself in the deepest ridges of her vitality. on occasion, the nectarous oblique of who she is, exposed. like a deer fresh from the womb, the chaste fragment stumbles into the spotlight--with bambi eyes and tremulous hands; this side of the cocoa skinned girl does not correlate with the scurrilous side that is seen most often. aghast, she falters one foot into her serendipity. almost customarily, the once biddable damsel with only good intentions is propelled into alternative cosmos. what was at once an effrontery and undaunted venomous flower, is now a teetering cherub. although, this side of her adumbrates. the affliction caused on one single fleshly made anthropoid countermands any dose of gallantry she may have had to avow this susceptible and thin-skinned region of whom she is. the propensity is hidden in the hot chocolate that is her eyes--she was always told her eyes are her worst enemy, because they can never seem to distort the truth, despite what her mouth may declare. in her utopia fabricated by her lack of marbles, she is impervious, free from harm, and intact. but she mustn't stay for the blue moon, for she will fall aphrodisiac for the azure she is indulged in. spiraling to the shoal of reality, she is face to face with annihilation of who she once was. a dove-like figure fighting against vexation of soreness. a soul so bleary and bruised, it no longer even fisticuffs in the onslaught. the virtuous side hands over the aptitude, only for the already puissant side to strangle who she is until the altruism fades from her face; leaving her indigo and ruptured. the iniquitous character inside of her vouching championship, snatching the halo from her own head and turning it into a choker. the stainless sidelong is hidden once again, under the arctic snow that was created by her cold heart. buried deep under the flakes of depression and abandonment issues, she lay there freezing and awaiting to be accessible. until then, the bruised up diminutive hides under rage and impatience. waiting, waiting, until someone divides the code that keeps her concealed. time is ticking, salvage her before is cold through and through.

I.

I trace you against
the skull
with the old photograph of

age 8 and 7

aloft and angling down some stage, or performance

in
this perforated dome I call home

trace you against
the map impaled to the wall
and locate you amongst the
geographies and heed
its brash distance

shake out its potency
like how my grandfather murders
the brief matchlight

I trace the trajectory
will not pivot to return
or scope rescue

none like this force,
the insufficiency of maps,
the harsh terror of adoration when
like a fruit ripened

will fall to the hand waiting
underneath

II.

    Propel me to where it counts

into the masses transit-worn,

shorn out of the flyblown-dry in amazement
or immense performance of breaking

outside the window
when it rains forever

to Icarus in his blunder,

from the dilated pupil of my father while
   watching television

from point-break of time
  and sense when nothing made one kind word
as salvation

out of the tangle of clouds,
    the skytilt angle where heaven might topple
at one point to scatter my reckoning of a god

from your place of interval

III.

space – where you will it,
when the night shining in,

          far are the noctilucent skies
  place me in the soft ease of beds when
   burial is ideal

make me ****** than light at first glance
    or water upon initial drop

and then in space, where you will it,
    promise-tender, drunk in shy altitudes,

this most biddable machine will spread to make way
    for weight giving in

to assume so small a drop of the pin in the ocean
   or to cannonball – fitting  chamber of a gun,
  
swimming in a mess of no restrictions,
  prepared, contained to carve deep

in the night writhing in with him
  with no need of hands to break point.

Never have I felt true hate until you did the unforgivable
I was easy so you saw me as biddable
You were right
There was no need to fight
I tried to leave you with all my might
But I couldn't , then you hurt in ways that I can't describe
You would discard my feelings and try to make sly gibes
You thought as though I had no ears to listen
Your words were like as though I had eaten ricin
The new emotion of hate gave me a jolt of frisson
I can never be repaired you made me this way and you know it
You made me so damaged I took it out on myself , so my skin I slit
I would sneak out to meet you and walk through my house in manner quit flit
I can never take back those cold , regrettable , and horrendous nights
But maybe one day I can recover and make a wrong a right

Biddable and tame, a dog's soul secretes
through woeful eyes. Mastering his master,
his manipulation, more often than not,
pays off in extra treats. Chewy bits,
kept on hand to prove love, likened to
showing of character and mien.
Dog's demeanor, wags and soulful secretions,
only on display until he gets what's wanted,
then naps.

Some lovers like this, leaving
when favors run out.

Serving each other so well,
desire beyond needs fulfills
modest bearing with one another
in love. Lying down with proverbial dogs,
I have known the difference. Risk of fleas,
for me, uncomplicates
it all.

In a vicious country, and a distant age

A girl was born of biddable and

penniless parentage,

The moon that glittered upon her

blessed birth,

The sky that vouched for her blessed

birth,

On the planet Earth when she was

born,

The flourishing birth of love

bestrewed

nonchalantly all over the room,

Her dazzling and delicate eyes ceased

the days of grudge,

Her arms like the flabby branches of a

tree, softly

Kissing the earth,

Her lips like the petals of a flower,

And her cheeks burnished like

sunflowers in bloom,

But as time passed away there

followed after

The blues of opprobrium,

The sound of a sour high-pitched

shout,

A moment of decrepitude;

of solitude and sadness,

A sigh of pain,

Beyond a lot of pain, her parents were

poor,

Yet they brooked to tender her,

Years passed by, she grew lovelier still;

On her face, the exuberance of

devotedness and harmony was

inveterated,

Her world, the amorousness of her

parents

Father’s adoration and mother’s kiss.

She never believed herself alone,

Her talking in low tones,

Like the birds luscious warbling in the

treetops.

Breezily and promptly sped the quiet

days;

The beautiful girl has flowered into

juvenility,

And still, her glamor was not faded

away,

And still, her notions were the truths

of probity.

Then, like a voice of floods,

An untamed wind washed everything

away,

The pacification, enchantment,

contentment ;

of her parents

As she was *****, spoiled and harmed

by sharp knives

Then a body, crippled, dead, lacerated

and imbrued

Her face vague

Yet over her soul,

Mortals blubbered with fears and

hopes

Much yet remains unsaid –

The coffin was laid,

Her body shouldered and finally

consigned to one of the graves of the

graveyard in Kashmir,

And is still unjustified.