I have known this much talked about search for true love for over 10 years and I am aged 22 years now. There was this unforgiving loneliness till I was 17 years of age given that I am the only child of my parents who lives with them in a lonely campus of a research institute away from the small city.

A tumultuous relationship filled with resentment to the brim about my parents keeping me their only 'issue' was brought to the hilt and I was weary of being their arguably most beloved 'machine' who was supposed to live sticking to the 'guidelines' laid by them as the ideal only son.

We aren't from a landlord's family and have limited resources, so I was supposed to suffice in my parents' love and affection, studying at a fairly consistent dedication to bring forth the results worthwhile landing me a good job.

But who has been able to control a Romeo-in-the-making?

Answer: Nobody!

But my Juliet wasn't yet on the horizon till age 17, when I mistakenly took my first girlfriend who was my classmate till class 7, to be my last love. Period. Then for the first time I was introduced to the idea of 'love' by this sweet girl whom I dub "G3" over 11 months elder to me. I had proposed her, but it was not a pre-emptive proposal.

Our period of courtship had started over Orkut which was the most popular social website at that time. It was just friendship initially until I had unsuccessfully proposed two bimbets other than my first girlfriend. One of those two unsuccessful attempts was with her best-friend-once-upon-a-time.

I had told her about them both, she had even tried apparently helping me propose her best friend when I had told her that I had even written a song for my childhood crush over the years I had been away from my old school.

Her first reaction was, "I would die for having such a boyfriend! Wish it was I for whom the song was composed."

Then when I proposed my childhood crush, G1, I couldn't even mention about the song and she rejected my proposal. Period. I was distraught, I was broken & I was amazed at how easily she could've undermined my liking for her from the past 7 years.

To take my attention off the disappointment posed by my first rejection. I proposed a different girl, G2, non-seriously, knowing that another rejection was lurking behind the curtains of time.

Rejection 2 successfully diverted my mind away from the mess created. Anyways, I did have a girlfriend for myself. After all, people love guys who sing melodiously and can play guitar apart from having decent appearance, and believe me- I used to look this chocolatey young guy until I was 19 years of age.

The girl who later went on to have the place vacated by my first crush was her same best-friend-once-upon-a-time 'G3'. She went on varied lengths in narrating her own break-up story with the guy she was with. I got a second-hand  piece as my first girlfriend. It was no issues, at least till she was bickering about how he had broken her 'heart-of-a-self-proclaimed-princess' and we started having arguments and serious tiffs over what had been happening in her life.

We broke-up. I had enough of the hardships brought by myself upon her. She had taken to crying harshly over phone. I resented myself. I failed to identify that it was not true love indeed but only a mirage of the idea.

I next concentrated in studies and this time I prevailed over the hurdles offered by examinations and a second girlfriend, 'G4', who refused to openly accept she was going about with me was attracted to me. She'd go see the Taj Mahal at Agra and the Hawa Mahal at Jaipur with me apart from spending the night in the same hotel room but would still reckon me with my pending reappear supplementary exams and wouldn't openly accept a failure as her man. I was frustrated by her autocratic behaviour and opted for a different girl, 'G5'.

G5 was the prettiest of my first 3 GF's as far as looks were considered. We romanced around Delhi's historical places and malls; holding hands around cinemas and Old Fort walls in New Delhi. But still I was as ****** as I was when I was born.

May 7, 2010 was a scorching hot day with the sun ablaze overhead and me going on the busiest highway of India. I was going back to my home and met with a serious road accident en route that kicked me out of my senses into a frozen comatose state.

I somehow survived the life-threatening coma and was moving around in 52 long weeks, limping heavily all thanks to my parents and the kind physiotherapist. Thanks to a poor memory, I initially performed extremely below average at college.

Then I was all prepared to attack at all future examinations and nothing could stop me. I breezed past another girl 'G6', this was my last failure. She was confused between me and a different guy. Neither me nor any other guy with a high self-prestige would entertain the idea of being weighed as an option. I again moved on.

Then comes the continuing story of my true love. True love is the one that lasts forever successfully. She is incidentally my 7th chance upon the love pathway and last. I am sure this is her- my soul-mate.

She is my gateway to the 7th heaven, I find her presence in every aspect of my life. She is 6 years and 9 months younger to me and her descent in my life has been the best thing in my life. I celebrate and rejoice each day in her presence. Our tastes are so similar that we feel merely our X- & Y-chromosomes are different.

We patiently wait for time to last till the day till we perish after blessing our grandchildren. We live 250 kilometres away from each other and have only known each other through voices and photos. We are yet to meet. Till then I wait for the day my master degree gets over and she gets into a medical college.

Now I will end this post by saying that there's no end of love and no beginning of it - you just have to wait, identify and hold on to your truest love.

The smell lingered long after she had called the ambulance, after she had scrubbed the bathroom tiles back to a pristine white, after she had thrown out the ******* mangoes he had hid in the closet. For days afterward, she avoided the bathroom, showering the best she could in the old porcelain sink they had installed in the spring when he was able to keep fresh flowers in the kitchen vase. Those days, she would come home to jasmine and broken plates, marigolds and burnt biryani, pigeon wings and torn paper. Some days he was snake-quiet. Other days, his skin was fever hot, his limbs flailing to an alien language, his head tilting back, ululating.
Every day she would carry his soiled clothes into the laundry room, ignoring the thousands of whispered comments that trailed behind her. “Look how outgrown her eyebrows have become” as she strangled the hardened blood out of his blue longyi. “Look how her fingernails are yellow with grease,” as she beat the sweat out of his white wife beaters. “Look how curved her back is” as she hung his tattered briefs to dry in the small courtyard. The sultry wind picked up the comments as it breezed by her, carrying them down the road to the chai stand where they conversed until the wee hours.
Today, there is no wind. The coarse sun has left the mango tree in the back corner of the courtyard too dry, the leaves coiling inward. She picks up the green watering can filled with gasoline. The rusted mouth leaves spots on the worn parchment ground as she shuffles over. Her chapped sandals leave no impression. The trunk still has their initials, his loping R and V balancing her mechanical S and T. They had done it with a sharp Swiss Army knife, its blade sinking into the soft wooded flesh. “Let’s do it together,” he urged, his large hand dwarfing hers. A cheap glass bangle, pressed too hard against her bony wrist, shattered.  
Now, her arthritic finger traces the letters slowly, falling into grooves and furrows as predictable as they were not. When had they bought it? Was it when he had received the big promotion, the big firing or the big diagnosis? Or was it farther back, when he had received the little diploma, the little child or the little death? There was no in-between for him, everything was either big or little. Was it an apology tree or an appeasement tree? Did it matter? The tree was dying.
Her ring gets stuck in the top part of the T. He had been so careful when he proposed. Timing was sunset. Dinner was hot rice, cold milk and smashed mangos, her favorite. Setting was a lakeside gazebo surrounded by fragrant papaya trees. She had said yes because the blue on her sari matched the blue of the lake. She had said yes because his hands trembled just right. She had said yes because she had always indulged in his self-indulgences. She slips her finger out, leaving the gold as an offering to the small tree that never grew.    
She pours gasoline over the tree, rechristening it. Light the math, throw the match, step back, mechanical steps. She shuffles back through the courtyard as the heat from the tree greets the heat from the sun. She doesn’t look back. Instead, she is going up one step at a time on the red staircase, through the blue hallway, to the daal-yellow door. These were the colors he said would be on the cover of his bestseller as he hunched over the typewriter for days on end. Those were the days he had subsisted only on chai and biscuits, reducing his frame to an emaciated exclamation mark. His words were sharp pieces of broken glass leaving white scars all over her body.  
She remembers his voice, the deep boom narrating fairytales. Once upon a time, she had taken a rickshaw for four hours to a bakery to get a special cake for his birthday. Once upon a time, she had skipped sitting in on her final exams for him. Once upon a time, she had danced in the middle of an empty road at three in the morning for him. Once upon a time, she had been a character in a madman’s tale.
Inside, she takes off the sandals, leaving them in the dark corner under the jackets they had brought for a trip to Europe, never taken. Across the red tiled floor, she tiptoes silently, out of habit. From the empty pantry, she scrounges up the last tea leaf. Put water in the black kettle, put the kettle on the stove, put tea leaf in water, wait. On the opposite wall, her Indian Institute of Technology degree hangs under years of dust and misuse.
Cup of bitter tea in hand, she sits on the woven chair, elbows hanging off the sides, back straight. Moments she had shot now hang around her as trophy heads on cheap plastic frames. A picture of them on their wedding day, her eyes kohl-lined and his arm wrapped around her. A picture of them in Kashmir, her eyes full of bags and his arm limp. A picture of them last year, her eyes bespectacled and his arm wrapped around an IV pole. The last picture at her feet, her eyes closed and his arm is burning in the funeral pyre. No one had wanted to take that picture.      
A half hour later, a phone call from her daughter abroad. Another hour, a shower in the porcelain sink. Another hour, dinner, rice and beans over the stove. Another hour and the sun creeps away for good. It leaves her momentarily off guard, like when she had walked home to find him head cracked on the bathroom tub. The medics had assured her it was just a fall. Finding her bearings, she walks down the dark corridor to their, no, her bedroom.
She sits down now on the hard mattress, low to the ground, as he wanted it to be. She takes off her sari, a yellow pattern he liked. She takes off her necklace, a series of jade stones he thought was sophisticated. She takes off the earrings he had gotten her for her fortieth, still too heavy for her ears. She places her hands over eyes, closing them like she had closed his when she had found him sleeping in the tub, before she had smashed his head against the bathtub.  
In her dreams, she walks in a mango orchard. She picks one, only to find its skin is puckered and bruised. She bites it only to taste bitterness. She pours the gallon of gasoline on the ground. She sets the orchard on fire and smiles.

a lot of us have lost so many, age 6 i lost my nana now i know that's not too bad, we get back from the funeral within minutes of walking in there's a knock on the door, the police? were sent to our rooms my brother sister and me,  i sneak down the stairs to the hatch in the wall where the living room sits on the other side, the policemen are sat there explaining how my fathers son had died, my big brother was dead? surely not true, as my nana has just gone not my brother too? hit by a train? he jumped you say? well why would he do that? just take his life without much reason one day? then age 7 i lost my great nana which wasn't too bad then a gap to age 9 where it was rather sad, the day went like this.. firstly my dad said we didn't have to go to school today, he took us to my brothers where we asked to go swimming, 'we will see how you feel later' my dad said then it hit me, my dads stress the day of school talking about feelings "who was dead?" i thought quietly somewhere deep in my head, i dismissed the idea without much more of a though, we drove home, me and my sister jumped out the van and my dad shouted for us to wait and come back as we ran towards the front door, we came back i looked at my sister the huge smile on her face, my dad? his face looked solomn, full of concentration, his eyes full of a deep sadness, the summer air breezed past us leaving silence in its path then my dads deep voice cut through it 'i need to tell you something.' and my sisters smile changed to a face full of confusion, 'you're mum is gone' he continued, a small tear run down his face,  i looked at the young fair haired 8 year old next to me, the disbelief on her face as she asked what he meant and he then went on to explain how she had passed away the night before my sisters face had gone from happy to confused then twisted with pain in a matter of seconds she was on her knees at his side where he held her squirming body and wiped her tearful eyes, i went inside found my half brother and started to play fight, i knew i needed to be strong, are you not upset my brother asked me and i answers simply with, well of course i am, my mum is dead but i'm strong and i have you lot and a very clear head, and with that sentence i managed to land a punch in his ribs, i didn't cry once not shed one tear, i saw in my sisters face over the next few weeks that pure look of fear and i knew what was wrong as we now had to grow up with no mum, so that day i made a silent vow to myself that i would be there for her as long as i could. now lets fast forward.. im 13 in 2 days! im getting exited now my dads come down stairs 'no school today', wow how could this get any better eh? well maybe not better but maybe just worse as my nana died just this morning, the tumor took over her head and that was the end and with that i simply said, i wanna go to school today dad and so i left went to school and stayed distracted all day acted as happy as any teenager at school may. lets fast forward again 17 in 2 weeks! just got ready for a road trip with 2 of my brothers by now i'm a tear away like them, earning money to blow and smoking far too much **** were leaving at 6 and i've come down the stairs woke my dad up on the sofa to tell him to go to bed, were packing the car almost ready to leave my dad comes downstairs a distraught look on his face, 'my dad died this morning' he mournfully said and with that we all looked at his tired bowed head we all went inside made some cups of tea my brothers friends ringing where are you they say, he politely tells them whats happened said he would ring them when we sort our heads out, i look at my brother not knowing if hes feeling up for driving about... my dad tells us to go it will all be okay my younger sister still in bed i send her a text before i left, 'keep an eye on dad, go talk to him when you wake up make sure he is okay.' i don't tell her whats happened it isn't my place to say, a few hours later and i tell all the rest so that while i'm away there are people there for our dad. now i look at myself only just 17 years of age, i'm much more wiser than most that's just my own age i grew up quiet fast looking after the young and have learnt from others mistakes as i have as well with my own, there is other stuff too with drugs violence and more but ill leave that for another day as my brain is becoming quiet sore.

You are
the playful breeze
that spins
my head like sycamore
and spreads
my love like dandelions
wafting
your scent
through yesterday's cobwebs
freeing my soul
to fly once
more
upon your kiss
uplifted.

All that was August
Breezed through just like
                  Wind gust.

there is no better shoe
breezed and open
leather soles
reeking from my trips
to here
and there
when i go to wash them
on sunday afternoon
i always find a stinging lizard
but i know its mostly my environment
if i could move
should i relocate
there should be far less pain
nothing to ***** about
a new space means
the denial of spiders of the mouth
denial of room temp pasta salad
denial of eat hate pray
please
let me wash your feet

He had to come back.

On a December afternoon
when the sun was more to west,
he landed on the most favorite place of his house,
the roof.

Just as he had imagined
the still winter air was abuzz with life.

Doves were pairing for a home
Green bee-eaters swooped on insects
Two herons kept following the grazing cow
Crows were busy with twigs and wires
High up beyond where paper kites could soar
Storks slow sunned their wings wet from the jhil
The cats warmed their furs before the cold night
The stray puppy gamboled with its mother.

Each piece had perfectly fitted the other
including the silently sleeping house.

He was tempted to walk down once
has she changed any little way?

He smiled to himself
then breezed away from the roof.

In the thick evening fog

the man walks with his dog

-

The two friends roam leash-less

A bond of no, oppress, aggress, distress

-

They wandered, trailing close but still apart

Yet, never so exceedingly to miss the beat of the other’s heart

-

He breezed on by my petty stroll

looked to me and sang, “Hello”

-

The black dog saw a squirrel, darted towards the bend

I panicked for a moment, “He gonna lose that friend!”

-

Panicky, panicky, pondering, what is loyalty?

Faithful is a friend that never will leave me

-

Their love inspired how beautiful devotion can be

To stay, without being chained, freely.

-

Leading ahead or following quietly behind

I am His and He is mine, without stress of mind.

-

The dog waited and wagged with the squirrel

engaging about his friendly man and the feeling girl.

the cost
of
'a post-strophe fee'
is a pouted heart
placed in parentheses

(yet still on that ledge:)



1.
like the tail of a kite
caught on a wire
or high branch of a tree
waiting to be eased off
and breezed out
free
it hangs upside down
seeing *'everything'
tipsy-style
as its force is slow-drained


2.
this apostrophe
is
the mere tail-end
of a dragon
(in a pit of exhaustion)
dragged in deepest-red ink
leaving an inimitable trail
with emphasis on sincerest care

brackets are just (two curves)
which jealously guard
all what lies inside
while giving so much
love in indivisible power-curls


3.
better to
let nature runs its course
of rivers flowing
and wild winds
while beetles walk on stones
yet
while trying to make a mark
with missives in the sand
the waves make sure
to wash them all away

best then
to let know
in this now
that some things never die
(it's enough for veracity to flap its weary wings)


4.
flee then
this finest core-duel likely
there's always..maybe
the next now

(all the previous
were not quite squandered
in cold flight
but unexpected loss)

and
no use hiding from one's (own) shadow
for kites will take off
and fly high
in the sun
where shadows have no place to hide





futile wondering
if it really
(has to)
spell
catastrophe

it does not




(it really does not :)



S T. Saturday. 27 July 2013

Down in the ghetto, real
****** stand together
Me and my 2nd in charge had an
alibi that breezed us on through
Sued the NY Times and their racist news
for they had no clue about us
The judge winked us both off and
later was paid what he was due
Corrupt, corrupt judiciary
The reasons for this are mostly monetary
No questions ... it’s just customary

While the Judges, Lawyers, Popo’s, too
Lookin’ for a way to make a few extra dimes
They were askin’ ‘bout, tryin’ to cash in, all da time
What judge or man wouldn’t agree ‘bout raisin’
a little bread on da side
No questions ... it’s just customary

I then asked a judge, why doesn’t the NY Times
take a bribe, so they don’t need to report all da crimes
I listened with intrigue and right away I saw the signs
Then my eyes closed tighter, as I hear what he describes
Judiciary started callin’ and Popo’s started fallin’
Shhhush . . . it’s just customary

While the Judges, Lawyers, Popo’s, too
Lookin’ for a way to make a few extra dimes
They were askin’ ‘bout tryin’ to cash in, all da time
What judge or man wouldn’t agree ‘bout raisin’
a little bread on da side
No questions ... it’s just customary

Well the New York Times is owned by the Irish
and not by a wealthy enclave of Jews
I think I just made my very last mistake
He fired a pistol from under his robe
and shot me to da ground
And I heard him sayin’ “Never **** with da men in da gown”
Corrupt, corrupt judiciary
The reasons for this are mostly monetary
I’d asked to many questions ... it’s just customary

While the Judges, Lawyers, Popo’s, too
Lookin’ for a way to make a few extra dimes
They were askin’ ‘bout tryin’ to cash in, all da time
What judge or man wouldn’t agree ‘bout raisin’
a little bread on da side
No questions ... it’s just customary.

I don't talk much cuz,
Nobody hears me,
When nobody hears me,
They don't see me,
Ignored like a dead floating fish,
Nobody can save me,
Fine then I abruptly say to thyself,
***** every soul that I consider alive,
Away to anyone who blows a smile at me,
Excuse my behavior all of sudden...,
No!,
Excuse your behavior that I tolerated since my existence began,
Leave me be I need no help from trouble that caused effect,
Everyone be happy in your place of hell that you danced your way to,
I have no more hands to throw out,
I have no sympathy to deliver,
I lost love when I threw my heart away,
Along with burning my emotions into the atmosphere,
I walked away quietly rebalancing thyself somewhere near this beautiful island,
I will call home,
More than just sand,
More than waving waters at my feet,
Sweeter than cut coconuts juice with a pretty straw,
Calmer than the trees breezed in a restful evening,
Prettier than the morning sunrise til the heavenly sunset,
More rhythmic than dem girls hips sway to a reggae beat,
More deeper than a poetic revolutionary black brotha,
I know what I am,
What I like,
What fits me physically and emotionally,
What makes me smile even through the bad,
Who I love to the endless of time,
What's ok to accept and keep it moving,
I say less now because it's just cheap,
I rather work to earn what's owed to me,
Graciously and humbling to my soul,
I only live for me now,
For my own universe.

My past cursed me as it met you lately,
And It told me henceforth you are my life,
Even if this is a curse I feel and live it as a boon.

Time is travelling eternally but I want it to stop at this moment when I have seen you..
Please time,do not follow me when I am with her.
If you are not with me,I am not there myself,
Even If I conquer the world,it wouldn't be on par with the pleasure I revelled in from loving you.
The oblique drizzling drops are piercing and drenching the life within me..which is me.
It is because of you this unbearable sweet pain.

breezed into my heart when I inhaled,but don't elude me when I exhale...
You are staring at me as if you haven't influenced me,
Love for you has erupted from nothing or perhaps from staring at your eyes.
Don't fill yourself with past,live in this moment.
I am dwelling in the dreams and the waking life is telling me that the truth is in the path of loving you..and it is showing to me as a dream.
If I call this as love,then it would be diminished before this sweet pain of loving you....

Today,
The grey pallor of death came calling
Not a gentle knock on the door
Or friendly tap on the window
It did not leave flowers on the sill
Or chocolates on the side table
But breezed through the hallway
Collecting a debt on a life long lived
Leaving shadows of memories
For the living to remember

The weather man said that today's forecast is going to be cloudy and grey
Never did he mention that you would be walking my way
I wish I would have known because I'm not too presentable in this sweat suit
It's raining plus it's a little warm so I began to sweat too
When I saw you ,
I got nervous trying to think of the right words to say and never disrespect you
"Would you like to share my umbrella it's the least I can do"
My lips were shaking in fear of rejection but I knew my obsession of staying to myself will leave me and my cold pillow plenty of time to bond on nights like this
The rain was pouring down
She didn't have an umbrella and it looked as if I switched her entire day around    
Her smile cleared the skies but down went my eyes because I had no excuse to walk with her
I was so nervous my hands began to tremble I was too afraid to talk with her
She said that I was sweet but I got the wrong idea because I reached out for her hand , but in the same soft voice she used to call me sweet she explained to me about her man ... The weather man didn't warn me  
He could have told me about the flash floods that followed the clear sky
I didn't see it coming
I feel like a car just breezed by and splashed up a puddle all over me
A shower can take the dirt off the surface and put a smile on my face the only problem is some of it got inside my skin and is irritating a problem that I've been trying to embrace
I'm still alone

When summer left its legacy
Arrived autumn with its warm flare
From cerulean seas came she
A lilac in her sea-breezed hair
And burst in utter joy my heart
Knowing fore’er we can’t depart
Though hard to practice love’s own art
Love with her still yearned I to share

When blossomed fruits again, spring drew
I walked near dark poppies with she
And sang sweetly the doves that flew
In lovely hymns of euphony
And hope against hope with the breeze
Our love will start with steady ease
And luckily it will ne’er cease:
I loving her, her loving me

Though in mere moments, quick, met we
A feel I have our love will stay
And sat we in serenity
By ponds where misty dusk there lay
And looked I at her face upon
As gentle as the setting sun
And hopefully be us as one
Though be we young or withered gray

And suddenly drew I most close
And gently placed my arm round she
And as I did, our free hearts rose
She turned around to look at me
And as set the gold sun below
Suddenly then and now I know
Our love appears to be true, so
Forever I will stay with she
The one who came from the Cerulean Sea
Solely for me and only me

Helen thought she’d have some fun
On this very special day
Slipped into her hiking boots
Trundled out to play
Along the way she met JP
Preaching to some dog (the four legged variety … lol)
Told him her intentions
Notes were duly logged
The plan
It seems
Was to escape
From the confines of the net
JP was now surveillance
He would eradicate the threat
Trapped inside
For years and years
So desperate to be free
Played a canny game
When they used the
“I’m mad … Insanity Plea!”
As they waited for the verdict
Raitch fed them Choccy Cake
Richard sat there laughing
“Guys this IS a big mistake”
“What do you think is out there
Do you think these folk are real
They do not care about you
There only in it for the thrill”
Raitch had heard enough
Punched him in the face
Told in no uncertain words
“The net is NOT your place”
Richard scuttled off
With his tail between his legs
Bumped into John Patrick
They then took up selling pegs!
Helen’s palms were sweaty
She could almost taste the breeze
She said her five hail marys
No longer would she tease
JP …  he sat all serene
Madder than Mad old Jack McMad
He had two pencils up his nose
Underpants positioned on his head
It was a funny sight
As I’m sure you folk can see
This is more than often the case
With your internet family
Hours passed like days
Then there came the loudest knock
Eliot breezed into the room
Silenced all into a shock
He said
“Hey guys
You can’t go out
I need to keep you here
For I am very lonely
See … my melancholy tears
I was abandoned at birth by my mother
Who ran off with a horse
Father couldn’t look at me
So … filed for divorce
As I wondered in the wilderness
Lost and all alone
I started writing poetry
I started building thrones
The biggest one
Was just for me
To sit and rule this land
I acquired all my subjects
The outside world was banned
So … please guys
Play the game
Accept the world in which we live
Please stay with me
Please play with me
And all that I can give”
Well … it pulled up all the motley crew
Who tried to escape from this regime
It made them all sit down and think
“He’s right
We are a team”
Helen wiped away a tear
Accepting of her fate
Realised now
The time was wrong
To circumnavigate
Maybe in the future
When she’s old and grey
She will have the courage
To rebel and not obey
But at the moment
Eliot needs her
Trapped inside the net
And that
My friend
Is where she’ll stay
It’s called a dead cert bet !!!

HAPPY  BIRTHDAY  TO  MY  LITTLE  FRIEND  FROM  DOWN  UNDER -

Mine pet;

When coming to America, I shalt showeth thee
All fifty states, of the United States
Mine queen....

Alabama; Down south, the place of the little river canyon national reserve, at the top of lookout mountain, where bird's canst be heard.
Alaska; A place far out west, a wild domain, a place untamed, where thou canst let out thy wildness.
Arizona; a place of ourn beloved poet ( soul survivor) a native American land, where cacti run the land's, and dirt is bright red.
Arkansas; To hot spring's national park, where beauty canst be seen in the dark, and soaked in through the warm bubbled water.
California; A place redwood tree's and Sequoia's, a land for the strange, and weird thing's, where all cometh together.
Colorado; where mine oldest brother liveth, where the crystalline water as a drink it giveth, and the *****'s peak highly amour'.
Connecticut; A place of Eastern sandshores, where we canst walketh in ourn galore, holding hand's, I'll sayeth me more!!!
Delaware; Delmara peninsula where we canst seeith awe-shocking elegance, where we canst travel in all remembrance.
Florida; thither mine middle brother's terra firma, a place of alligator's, swamp's, ocean waves, surfer's and hot sun drop's.
Georgia; The place where slave's fought hard, Atlanta city, a big place of life, fast and slow.where rich men go to liveth large.
Hawaii; Tropical island like thy own, not connected to the mainland though, swaying tree's like thy own, heavenly splendor.
Idaho; Where we canst get the best potatoes, I'll make them mashed, with gravy, chicken and tomatoes, I'll feed thee good.
Illinois; Where the huge city of Chicago sit's, large skyscraper's, and city bliss. Where the water sparkles the view.
Indiana; Marengo Cave National Landmark, where we canst sneak inside the cave's, then to Indianapolis, to wander through the shade.
Iowa; To Pikes Peak state park, where the Mississippi and Wisconsin river's meet to start, a beautiful picture indeed.
Kansas; Off to Rock City, an odd place where two-hundred boulders rest, then to Kansas Cosmosphere and Space Center to explore a place of knowledge, learning of the new, and happiness.
Kentucky; To Mammoth Cave National Park, in strangeness we shalt walk the dark, with lantern's to carry ourn shadow's.
Louisiana; Also the well known area of New orlean's, where jazz music doesn't stop and the people art it's scene. Where people overcometh!!!!
Maine; To get some of the best seafood around, the eastern wind shalt bloweth us around, as love thou shouldst bring a coat dear.
Maryland; Where Edgar Allen poe was born, where the Raven sung and mourned, though the sunshine shines it's people.
Massachusetts; The land of Many Irishmen and fishermen, settling thee down in Boston, where the accent of the easterly go loudly.
Michigan; The state just above me, they haveth natural lake's and the chill is breezed, the soul's art kind, and people dream, their alive.
Minnesota; where the snow piles to thy ride, the whitened picture is Christmas to thy eye's, as thou wilt need to dress warm.
Mississippi; Deep down south, where the language changes, word's art more southern and slang it clingeth, onto thy lip's.
Missouri; First to the St. Louis arch, it bend's to the sky and is six hundred and twenty five feet from thy heart, as high we shalt view.
Montana; Western freedom, wherein nature is painted, horses roam, thing's aren't tainted, guileless and natural.
Nebraska; Betwixt the corn stalks and field's, farmer's work hard and people art real, as hard work like thy country is known.
Nevada; To Las Vegas the desert Oasis, light's art big, as room's art spacious, different is here with a million face's, gambler's taketh their chances.
New Hampshire; Near Lake Winnipesaukee, a sensible area where being's doeth their best, eastward again, bringeth hot dress.
New Jersey; To Atlantic City on the boardwalk, a place of tales and beach defined walk, sunshined day's where lingo talk's, and the traveling shalt be sweet.
New Mexico; Dusty native land, the dirt is grained, the pinnacles of silence is maintained, by God's still voice.
New York; Aka- The big apple, where immigrant's once cameth through, immigrant's as me thou and you. Meaning were all the same.
North Carolina; Blue Ridge *****'s peak the entry, ancient places here art serene, tranquil relaxing is here mine queen!!!
North Dakota; farther again out west, talk to the Indian's to get the best, they'll giveth thee information to inform the rest.
Ohio; Mine state, the heart of the country, I mean by it's shape, were surrounded by all, we sit on a lake, we hath cornfield's, barn's, southern Hill's, northern star's, kind folk's and fancy cars, mixed with great stores for shopping, as I'll buyeth thee as much as thy heart canst be enlarged.
Oklahoma; Indigenous territory, creatures art relaxed, no need for no hurry.
Oregon; Where tree's groweth big, rainfall is the normal, and wild children art the kid's, beautiful scenery is blossoming mist.
Pennsylvania; On the eastern edge of the Appalachian Top's, green none make believe, the quietness is beauty, a part of God!!!

The blue pales white above the echoing horizon
Seen fourth times, edifice, sea, wire, sky
Venture, traveller, approach him at last
The air blazes all approaching, stabbing the sense
Palpable is none among you, gliding through
The streets, the cars, those striking titans lining
The eclipse, shivering white cloud on cemented bone
Lackadaisical walk, breezed by wind into drowning
Dusk, when the aching red pours, staining blue, lost

Our sky vibrates, oscillating, drums on sea
Vision blurred, though it seems natural, myopia
Taken by the Pan, made real on nature
Isochronal to all around, who watch in vivid gawp
Neither spectacle, sight nor sear, means much to other
The world breathes, not to ignore, or worry
As clouds drift on, through the rose-bleach
The animal clings into itself, all moves toward
Horizon, a carnival to unknown spots beyond sky
Denizens to the untouchable, we onlookers know

what is consent i asked myself? while after me saying no to ******* or nudes . he would ask me to come on video call just fully clothed . so that he could *** to my face. as much as i didnt want to do that. i thought atleast hes not asking me to be naked, this is the least i can do. so i would lay there watching him do whatever he did.
what is consent  i asked myself ?while he parked the car in the basement of a tennis court and asked me to shift in the backseat of his car. if i refuse he will think i dont love him i told myself.even though i didnt want to do this, i didnt want to do whatever he had planned to do at the backseat of his car. he opened his pants and asked me to give him a ******* when suddenly the guard came and i thanked my stars as we rushed out of the place.
what is consent i asked my self? when he parked his car near the sports complex where my mother worksout and opened my bra . i could see people watching us and it killed me inside. but the only way of it ending was him being satisfied. so i used my hands as fast as i could never looking at him. it had started to feel like something i was supposed to do.
what is consent ? i asked myself when i was beneath his body . why should it matter i thought myself again? i love him , he is the love of my life i repeated to myself. while his hands searched for mine and directed them to please him. another thought breezed through my brain that my hands had pleased him more than they were used to hold them in an embrace. while the movements of our bodies synced i felt my heart drop . but i felt that maybe this is how it feels. and plus its not like we are having ***. Its just making out and there is no need for consent should probably try and not cry while his breath follows the nape of my neck .
what is consent i asked myself? while i was at his house and we had broken up and i was apologizing while he held me by my  waist and said that i was very comfortable.  when he took of my pants and i asked what was happening. when he tried to enter my shivering legs aagain and again, while i clenched on the mattress real hard while i let him do whatever he did. even after i tried to show him that indeed my legs were shivering. that indeed he didnt love me. that indeed i should run away . that indeed consent is existenet and i do not consent this.But all i did was i lay there and let him do whatever he wanted. because he was the love of my life.
what is consent i asked my self one week after i had lost my virginity to man who never wanted to see my face or hear from me ever again. while i sat at the end of my bed bleeding . trying to call him up.
what is consent afterall? does it exist if the person asking for it is the one you love? how can you give consent to someone who is your better half.
its then that i realized without my consent, with my defences in ruins, while my brain was sleeping, my stupid heart went and fell headfirst into love.
and i let love give consnet.
what is consent ask myself everytime i remeber that i let myself ruin in the deep abyss of love.

A congenial aura
elated trekking
Intoning treasured verse
attention beckoning
Diligence provided
continual checking

Confirming with gauges
complying with code
Merged flawlessly towards
turnpike- cautious mode
Along breezed a rig
with a copious load

Heedless of rush hour
he rumbled on by
Remained in his route
to switch didn't try
Hurled on the brakes
swerved- she let out a cry

The fish tail and slide
left black in its track
Furled over in excess
too dazed for fact
Copper tang on lips
beginning to act

Sinew taut
cerebral flailing
Knuckles clenched
composure failing
Ticker raging
pent up wailing

Red and blue strobes
redundant sound
Screeching and wrenching
the pros abound
Flame vaulting acrid scent
soot around

One outstretched mitt
cloudy hood right behind
Echoing directives
"you will be fine"
Such screaming
not even sure if it's mine

Hours? Minutes?
seconds ticking away
WHOOOMF!!!
explosion that seized it today
Claimed these lives
on the earth they did lay

What's happening?
ascending brilliant light
Are eyes sealed exposed
perceiving what's right?
Sense soaring heavenward
a tranquil flight

Radiance entices
no need to resist
While buoyant wafting
in a cool opaque mist
At last home free
beseeching those that I missed
Brushed against His Grace
her brows lightly been kissed

Mother pulled the beat to hell diluted blood red minivan containing my brother and I into the darkened parking lot. The car couldn't park fast enough as my brother and I tore the creaky side door open and leapt onto the awaiting pavement. We stepped from darkness into light as we hopped onto a curb to be greeted by the brilliance of neon lights erected atop a single story rectangular building squatting at the top of the rectangular lot like a full measure rest. Glass windows as whole walls teased the treasures that lay before my eyes window-shopping like madmen I felt the objects of my covetry leap from their white shelves into my sweaty youthful grasp. Mother breezed forward, stepping across the tier confidant and disengaged; the front door rang announcing our presence. Two bells sounded: ring ring. The Rhines were here. Like a pistol shot signifying the start of a race, my brother and I scampered and scattered and scuttled like wild animals, scouring the shelves that sat dispersed through the gleaming room consuming with our eyes words that told stories with pictures that danced and sang. Clusters of shelves huddled together under several flat signs hung by frail strings dangling from the ceiling displaying themes that told me where to avoid "Romance" and where to find my beloved "Science Fiction." I halted, realizing almost as if there were indentations within the itchy carpet that had alerted me to the place where I had cemented by ruddy feet countless times before. I took my roving eyes from the stalling ground to peer up into the shelves that loomed over me like giants, arching over my head like holy stones erected atop holy celebratory sites of yore. My fingers traced along the shelves trailing over the innumerate plastic spines that encased my bountiful riches; I mouthed the vibrant words imprinted like cattle on each of them and sang to myself stories that spawned off of each one before finding the paragon that most expertly weaved JR the Raconteur into its fabrications. I bore into its dazzling shell hungrily, gobbling up faces and places and names and dates I spun it over to its backside to read plots to read histories to read legacies to read memories I read and read and saw and saw my mind was never more alive with the astounding conception of limitless potentialities my night was just getting started and with my final selection--and mother's blessing--I would march home victoriously wielding my fortune, my medium for which the pictures in my mind would transpose and dance before me like luminous sprites on the brilliant splendor of a luminescent two dimensional stage that is the television screen. It was the weekend getaway I waited for with anticipation every Saturday; I was an unversed monk relishing in the ancient libraries of History.

Phileas Fogg,
On a brigantine sledge,
Braved the Omaha wind
As it twirled.
So, Jules Verne might say
That a full eighty days
Is plenty to travel the world.

Amelia Earhart
Crossed the sea –
The quickliest feat
…For a girl –
In twelve hundred forty
Short minutes, you know:
Others failed, but gave it a whirl.

Rosemary Doyle,
Our wonderful mum,
Exceeded these
Feats of grand scale!
She has crossed oceans faster,
Breezed over Great Plains,
And – without perspiration – prevailed!

Carefully, casually,
She raised five kids:
‘Neath our burden
She never collapsed.
Loving and giving
Us lives we are living.
Have there – really – eight decades elapsed?

Octogenarian?
Silliest word:
It sounds like
A sea creature’s vet,
But if you want true fun,
Then just orbit the sun
Eighty times, like our mom:  It’s no sweat!


© 2Mar2018 DracoTalpus
For Rosemary N. Doyle
On the occasion of her 80th birthday

" According to the Earth's gravitational pull
He threw his handkerchief up,
Deceleration would take place as it goes up
And there, It'll always come down
May be hard hitting your head..."
But it didn't as it was stuck in a switched-off fan
Innocous, curious laughs poised the atmosphere
Breezed a wind of arrogance and disapproval
"Wait..", he hopped and uplifted by table
Attempt to rescue, tide, brand handkerchief
As he rotated the fan,
" G' morning Ma'am" bowed the class
There he was
In front of the honorable principal
Sweat-Wet, Stuck on the table
Bewildered in a circle of loopholes
She giggled, wished and said,
" Oh ..My inspections truly reveal me the unseen parts of the story
That must be an integrated fun learning"..

Another night has breezed me by
Too much sleep has gone in haste
Somnolence is what makes me drink coffee sometimes
Oh oh oh,
Instead, take me where the monsters once lurked
In between the crevices of my old crypt that remains inert
I want to take a peek of the catacombs
Where I sometimes visit in my sleep

Oh ** **,
Where's that sense of humor I once had?
Couldn't speak now
With the tongue I once had
I'm enshrouded in nostalgia
With silly monsters caught in between
Stuck in my daydreams
I can't help but imagine the past

Oh oh oh,
That was my wonderful life
Little kids on the pave
Laughing and falling on their knees
And flippant little fingers making a scene
If I could only spring back
To the time when my essence was clean
Back to the home where I pestered the words
"Please, please, please"
To the point of my content, when I could no longer protest
When I finally drowned asleep in the summer breeze

Cheers to my childhood days
And to the housebound trance of old school lullabies
Where my loving family of special hearts
Defended the tears I cried
Oh, oh, oh
Provoked by silly monsters I waved goodbye
Never did I think
I would miss so very much
Those glorious days of when my silly monsters
Brought mischief and thrived

the night that the earth stood still
i backed up into a parked car
and ran away drenched in cowardice
with guilt dripping off of me in long greasy streaks
like oil leaking out, painting the pavement
a color that none of us quite understand

i played games and ****** ruthlessly
and gobbled up a luna that came from a place
where the sun was still shining
and people were going to drop off their minds

i wore boots and stomped loudly
up old creaky stairways
with lace curtains whispering
of past indiscretions,
but i didn't listen,
just breezed on by

and when morning came and i laid there in silence,
except for the jangling of my bracelets
as i searched for the words that would sail me back to you,
i knew all at once that i was a liar and fraud

the earth was now moving
and i loved you, god, i loved you,
but i have never been on time

after one euphoric kiss
you hardly notice
her weathered cheeks

she is a Venus
she's tenacious
her beauty sticks

it moves you to tears
when went the years
you didn't notice

she matured from teen
ripened her green
since that euphoric kiss

how it's so
her beauty's glow
breezed past you

it moves you to tears
though ripened the years
she was ever new

was it so far
you right beside her
yet gave her a miss

ripened her years
you now see through tears

the first euphoric kiss

The summer breezed in Kraków field,
The fresh air that lingers in my hair
Watching the nuthatches safely arrived in their bield,
While we are holding our hands sitting on the chair.

At night, we were stargazing
You said, "what a starry night",
Like van Gogh's painting is so amazing
That I light up your world without your sight.

Then, You smiled back at me like how Mona Lisa smiled,
It gives me an impression
And that night my world become wild
I knew that You are my dedication and inspiration.

I need a love that grows
That your sweet and tenderness in my veins flows.

Last time, I made pączki for your birthday,
You're so vivacious
Oh dear, a week is not enough to see you everyday
Your love is contagious

We went to the beach for a night,
That day, You and I collide
You will be forever my knight
Please stay by my side.
Fifth of November, you dressed up like van Gogh,
I stared at you like how Frida kahlo fierce,
Honey, I want you to stay by my side everywhere I go.
I love for a thousand years,


I can't stop thinking 'bout your face,
You can never be replaced.

Our relationship has different strokes,
As I painted our love story in Tatra mountain,
Here, under the oaks,
Dear, No one could ever erase you in my memory nor stain,

Were at the terraces, spending my christmas with you,
The smell of potato pancakes are so nostalgic,
And also the spices that is in the barbecue,
Spending holiday with you is so romantic,

Before the year ends,
We waited to power up the fireworks,
moja miłość, we are more than just friends,
And that's how our love works.

How lovely and amazing,
Now, I'm just reminiscing.

So what if the butterfly in my stomach doesn’t rhyme with the sailboat that carries it’s weight in your lungs
You’re both my oldest and newest friend
And for fifteen months there was not a thing I posted without thinking about how you’d react
And for fifteen months I saw your name in every cup of coffee I drank and every stop sign I breezed through
Until I saw you look up at me from the bottom of my stairs
And I realized why I love this place so much
And why it feels so much like home
But daydreams are dangerous and sailboats sink
And eyes get weary and we’re lucky that fire when we were six didn’t burn our house down
Because maybe someday we’ll have other fires to deal with
And right now an hourglass is being hurled at my Achilles heel while your attention is slayed by waves and coffee shops
And distance is daunting
And September can suffocate
But two weeks is much sooner than two years
And second chances can save a soul swollen by salt.