It is victory of light over darkness.
But his eyes filled with bleakness.
It is victory of hope over despair.
But a poor child with no one to care.

Jam packed are shops of sweets.
But pitiful child has got nothing to eat.
Crackers stealthily they all buy.
His stomach is empty, lips are dry.

Bursting firecrackers, light and sound.
Hapless child quietly sitting on ground.
To burn people have enough buck.
But not enough for burning stomach.

"i ain't got no fat bootay.
i am just a little husky."
she said to me.
that big fat bus with the big fat yellow bootay.

"i'm a thinkin'
i'm gittin' REAL tired
of all your verse."
said she.

"you should live the life i do.
yes you should.
just for one day.
grubby little kids kicking the back of my seats,
hanging out the windows
screaming so loud.

"crying and punching
throwing each other's gear.
boxing an ear.

"picking and fightin'
and bullying every year.
wet boots and sand
poking me in the tummy
with their little stupid umbrellas.
wiping snot on my clean seats.

those high schoolers
smoking in back,
tobacco and joints
and drinking & stuff
thinking i don't know it.

well the he-ing and she-ing,
on trips, to games and more,
i won't go into here.
what do they think i am?
a rolling motel
hotel
super 6?

it's enough to drive me right
out of my mind here.

"i used to be shiny and bright and new,
and i was so happy
to finally get out on the town.
then i realized for what i was made
year after year,
driving around,
the very same trip
all over town.
more than enough
to drive anyone insane.

"if i had wrists,
i assure you i'd slit em',
for you can never imagine,
what is it like,
to be me."
says that big fat bus with the big fat yellow bootay.

okay so now... i'm starting to feel
just a little bad,
all the mad verse
i hurled
at her
all of those days.

so i say,
to that big fat bus,
with the big fat yellow bootay,
"why wait around?
set yourself free,
before you end up in the big fat bus
cemetery!

now in some other time,
in some other life,
i start to see,
i could see ,
the possibility,
of what good friends
we could have been.

i would have waxed her
well, brightened her up
shined up the grill
made those white walls sparkle.

i coulda detailed her
inside and out.
checked her oil
and tweaked those points
making sure those
spark plugs would light.

rotated her tires and
lubed all her joints.
windexed her glass
front, side and back.

so now
still feeling a little bad
i say,
to that big little-husky bus
with the big little-husky yellow bootay,
"go single,
go solo,
but GO NOW!"

taking my advice to heart,
that big fat bus,
with her big fat yellow bootay,

she discharged that last child,
and driver so worn,
and bided her time,
till well after dark.

she took a quick,
furtive look around,
stealthily rolled  
out of the yard.

once a safe distance away,
set her engine in gear,
and got right the hell
out of here.
right away.

flying down the open roads,
careening around every
sharp curve,
every bend.
tipped on her side,
tires right up off the ground.

shrieking like a madwoman

"it's a good day to die!
i'm finally free!"

"It's a good day to die! mother f-ers" she cried
as she sped down the road.

until,

HEY?
HEEEEYYY?
What's THAT in my way?

OH NO!
it's a BIG FAT BUS !
with a BIG FAT YELLOW BOOTAY!
and it's in MY WAY!

...brakes stomped through the floor with all her might,
smoking tires and squealing rubber, and skidding down the highway,
way out of control...

more to come ...Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay

A late night phone call awakes the teen.
The voice calling elicits sweeter dreams.
She's asking for a late night rendezvous.
She says she misses his eyes of blue.

The boy stealthily sneaks down the hall.
There was no way he would ignore the call.
He opens the door and feels the autumn chill.  
And he smiles thinking of the upcoming thrill.

He jumps on his bike to begin the journey.
Even the long ride can't ease his yearning.
As he pulls into the alley at the back of her place.
He sees a beautiful and innocent face.

They make some small talk to break the ice.
But her sweet perfume smells way too nice.
So he leans in closer to steal a passionate kiss.
And she accepts him and grants his wish.

Their breathing was heavy and hands explored.
There was a certain need that couldn't be ignored.  
But before the heat could engulf the night.
There was the sound of a door and suddenly a light.

He made for his bike like a lightning bolt.
And he peddled away like a run away colt.  
The last thing he heard was angry father's yell.
If I ever see you again I'll send you straight to hell.

He stealthily usurped his favourite poet's celebrated pen
Strove  hard to write  with a footing on the poet's ken.
In what resulted, others could only see an overriding  yen
recognized patently as his; in this shady  game he didn't win!

1-DESIRE:                                             4-UNCARE:
All of me now desires,be deep            Distracted ideals,a nature human                                                        
Wholly Inside of you,Pervade             Heavenly woven synergies broken                                      
Your mind, limbs, Heart, all pores      Power of pleasures mortal, killing magic                              
Soak in your salty sweat warm           Snapping wands,bonds dearly formed  
Mold dancing to a one united.             Sweet temptress transient, conquering care.

2-PASSION:                                                ­       5- DISILLUSION:
Bodies’ lithe now twined serpentine         We betrayed, cheated US, in neglect,
Straining desperate, for a merger             Holes in hearts bleeding precious Love,
Spiritual, souls both for unison striving    Admitting indifference cruel, ruining stealthily
Hearts two pumping as one to fuse.          Our paradise gained, won so easy, lost terribly.
Sacred is everything, this carnality too.     Chanced eternity wasted, destiny unmeant made.

3-LOVE:                                                   ­              6- REALITY:
Ensconced tight in warmth’s mutual,           Tempered in time space, 3-LOVE loyal savior sole,  
All is for sacrifice on our loves altar,              Enshrined indestructible, in being, memories relived.
Suspended thoughts, egos burnt ash            Pleasures now cynically felt, loves truly responded,
A Love Mindless meditating deep,                No dilemma human; I flow generous, as an epitaph,
In some state mystically enlightened.            Thanking destiny for this reclaim, my love,faring well.

I tiptoe across the wooden floor avoiding all the creaks.
Moonlight streaming through open windows of a silent summer night,
casting shadows over rumpled sheets of a well-used king size bed.
I hear the water running in the bathroom across the hall,
grabbing clothing strewed around the room I move with ninja speed.
Hunting for the elusive pair of ******* I just can’t seem to find.
Forget it, time is almost running out, I need to leave before that door opens.
Rushing now I grab my stash and head for the front door,
lightly hopping, stealthily propping as I pull on piece by piece.
Last, my shoes, I grab as I unlock the front door,
grab my keys, leave the note and run out barefoot.
“It was fun, I had to run, see you again someday,”
get in my car, start the engine, drive, drive away.

Rapidly writing
his ragged riddles
he giggles
and flips furiously
through his pad
Glad to be in his element
weaving his meanings
out of their words
hides dead drop spikes
and microfiche behind his verbs
Slice him open he bleeds
black and white
like ink and computer screens
The Enigma becomes a riddle to himself
lost in the context of his own twisted reality
he falls into his own textual mazes
and is enslaved, as a hologram,
a nightmare, or three,
the happy family
and the RaceCyst
Scarecrow stands silent
stealthily concealed behind a simile.
I observe
the Riddler weaving word nets
and lines of buried treasure truth
commandeered from the pits of shared despair
The Riddler knows what evil lurks in the deepest black,
even now he is giggling at the thought of it.

sneaks in stealthily
to palpable emptiness
takes a look around
ah, all the familiar sights
it's nice to see the old place

the stains on the walls
clean spaces once protected
shielded by portraits
decor of dust and cobwebs
the smell of yesteryear

peeling wallpaper
ageless soot on masonry
hearth tools left behind
creaking floors whispering names
echoes of her heritage

broken windows breathe
as she groans for visitors
she still has her charm
this old house out in the woods
this home built by rustic hands

Plagiarism stealthily goes on in all fields!
In research theses plagiarism is common;
In articles and novels they are caught soon!
In poetry a lot of production makes it rare
To find who has done what in any quarter!

Finding the impostors in poetry is finding
Diamond among broken glasses on sand!
So, impostors mingle with poets anywhere,
Become friends and take advantage of them!

Positive minds never think negatively here
And it becomes easy for the culprits to sway all
To indulge in their nefarious acts nonstop!

Plagiarist poets excel even bards and Browning
Consuming their brain as critics did to Coleridge!

Arresting artificial bloom from a  make believe garden,
Oh! magalomaniacal face of ill gotten glamour,
ribald queen of the kitsch, with endless variety in store,
age, cannot wither your, unmistakable garish taste-
or sadistic delights, each you do organize is outrageous,
than the one before, no doubt, how do you manage?
                  
I'll forget all those in an instance, but, that kiss, oh! that,
the one you gifted, to show you were pleased utmost,
stealthily away from the eyeshot of your posse of lovers,
other cannibals and party animals, under the darkened staircase,
was the last godforsaken straw;
 what a poor camel can do? if you so desire,
beggars, never were the choosers, you'd tell yourself,
in a self congratulatory note,
                      that much I am aware, my dear tormentor!

Brooke hit it off with Edric from the moment they met.

The dangerously ****, tattooed ex-SEAL and always a poet, Detective for the LAPD, remains as one of the best friends she’s ever had, the main star in her wildest fantasies.
When they met he did not see her that way. And she would have died of embarrassment if he found out she was still a ******. And he was about to stake his claim, struggling to keep his attraction to the beautiful, blond dancer a secret.
He was not good enough for her; that is what he thought. On a day when an attacker targeted Brooke, Edric’s protective instincts went into overdrive.
With the attraction between them burning like a torch flame, he would do whatever it took to protect her and tell her they were meant to be together.  
One evening, deciding to express her love for her, Edric waited outside the door, keeping watch over the woman he loved secretly. Then he saw her through the curtain, dressed in her black fur coat.
Not realizing that she was being watched, yet fantasizing about the man of her dreams, Brooke lowered her fur coat standing in front of her mirror.
Her soft ******* protruding out from her black lace bra, in her mind waiting for Edric’s hands to touch her love her, want her like she wanted him... As the coat slipped down her black lace skimpy ******* seemed so inviting. Her dreams of him were getting so vivid. She would imagine him standing over her, kneeling, as he slipped his hand under the cover, exploring her body, wanting her, making her desire so real. Seeing Brooke in her lingerie, he was awestruck by her beauty and wondered what to do next.
Hesitatingly, he moved towards the door and to his shock saw a shadow, moving slowly, stealthily, trying to pry the windows. Failing to open the window, he moved towards the door. He pulled out a bunch of keys trying out one by one. Edric’s first response was to call for backup. He called leading detective Donovan Mallow his partner. Then the shadow opened Brooke’s door and started creeping in, Edric wasting no time, Edric charged to stop him. Suddenly he heard a shot that rang out into the night. There was Brooke standing in her black lace bra and *******, holding a gun and the intruder lay dead on the floor.

“Brooke drop the gun, please Brooke drop the gun.” Brooke was shaking… “Brooke, sweetheart, drop the gun. “She looked at Edric and let the gun fall to the floor softly.  On the verge of tears, petrified out of her wits since she had never used a gun before,  and to **** a man, she shook violently. Edric walked over to her and picks her and covered her half naked body with his coat.
When Detective Donovan showed up, Edric held her close while the former checked  the body and called for the paramedics and further back up. When the police came, CIS took finger prints, investigating the crime scene.
Edric found Brooke some clothes and dressed her, escorting her to the precinct for recording of her statement. She was questioned and released.
With Edric’s story and Detective Donovan backing her up, she was released. Not wanting to disturb the crime scene, Edric escorted her to his home and put her in bed. Brooke, I need to tell you something, is what he said.
“I am listening”…Brooke was shivering after having gone through the trauma, yet attentive listening to the man that she had secretly admired. “I want you to know, I love you”.  “You love me? I love you too. I always have.” Brooke looked at Edric with an adulation emanating from her very soul.
As an instinctive response, shivering, she let her head lean on his shoulder. “Edric then please make love to me. I have yearned for you so long”.
As the sun slipped from its perch in the sky slowly, drawing well into the darkness, the shores where the waves would roll and sigh, Edric slowly undressed Brooke, one piece at a time. As he took off her blouse admiring her beautiful soft protruding ******* with each moment her ******* getting hard. Taking  off her pants and there were the black lace ******* he had seen from the window. Her firm and tight stomach and legs, she looked so delectably **** and beautiful. She was lying with a look of anticipation on her face. He enveloped her with his arms and kissed her softly, passionately. He didn’t want to scare her.
“Edric, I have to tell you.” Brooke whispered in his ear. “Later Brooke, you can tell me later.” He was so aroused and was getting so hard. “No, Edric now.. I have to tell you now.” Edric stopped and looked at her, “What is it darling?”
“Edric I am a ******. You are my first man. I have never been with another man.” Edric sat there and couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew then that he had to be gentle. A wrong step and he would scare Brooke. He held her hand and kissed it.
"I kind of suspected but am surprised. You always had a naïve gentleness and girlishness about you. You always seemed so vulnerable that I always wanted to protect. You always had affected me in a way that I couldn't explain; no other woman has ever done that to me.”

Saying that he helped her dress and holding her hand led her towards the ****** beach outside his cottage. Wrapping her in his arms, they watched the beautiful glow of the stars, eyes aglow with passion of locked hands. Edric spoke his favorite lyrics, into her mouth as he started kissing her.
What a poet was he!! Impatience getting the better of her, “Edric, please make love to me… Oh! how I want you.”
His kisses were soft but passionate; they started at her lips to the base of her neck sliding down to her *******. When they got to her stomach her breath trembled, yearning for more.
Electric shocks ran down her spine. She almost screamed. The winds gently swirled, dancing to their rhythm of their passion. A girl, morphed that sweet evening, as Edric make sweet passionate love to her and made her into a blossoming woman.
Guess, there is nothing in the world that matched the feeling of eclectic emotions that were born that night. When a tired sun finally arose as a grim reminder of the end of an ethereal night, it sighed endlessly, spreading a gentle caress across Brooke’s cheek, pledging that she was bound to Eric for eternity.

Debbie Brooks 2014 -

How come your body of warmth
  Boulder of boldness and hope
    My limbs in vain, fold
      In and out of its hold

Smoothness and strength
  Making me hang stealthily below
    As the muscles in your arms
      More than tickle, grip, supporting my back

Frolicking, commanding every enclave
  Exploring this landscape with precise measure and expertise
    Cherishing every arch, every curve, every carving
      Like the greatest monument,
        You guard me against all elements

And every time you press this lips
  Cautioning against the unleashing of nirvana
    Tinkling with mere existence
      There's a launching of infinite catharsis

Even when this land becomes regimented and bound
  Enclosing every possible escape
    Encroaching, expelling the very efforts to liberate
      You pause in front and gaze into the power of my eyes
        Extracting every trace of repression and restraint

Canvasing, surveying the infinite value of this place
  The conqueror, the lord, the trustee of this land
    Has come to stop pondering the chase
      He's built the greatest monument, he never planned

We strike when it's dark,
And we will rip your neck.
We sneak in the shadow,
We will strangle you to death.

We are one, too much to handle,
We will mutilate you, armed with a blade and a sickle.
We are the wind that blows silently,
We are ninjas that kills stealthily.

You can run as far as you can,
We will shred you to pieces with our  shurikens.
Don't breathe too hard we can hear your heart beats,
Our katana will pierce through your heart till' it no longer beats.

We have the heart of an assassin,
We live shredding blood of those who are unworthy.
We cleanse the world of the cunning corruptionist,
**** one, save a thousand! We are sworn to **** as cold as can be.

Meet me there, you remember? The corner of Air Street, outside the bar that constantly changes its name. Remember? Where we drank margaritas - 2 for 1 - before heading to On Anon for half price champagne.

Ecstatic from happy hour, we needed no more fuel, we were all fired up for fun. We sauntered past restaurants offering every cuisine imaginable to bag ourselves an early table in Freedom Bar, before they introduced an entrance charge.

The sticky floor adhered to the bottom of our platform heels, the bar smelled like bubblegum. Drag Queens dared us to dance; we held onto poles, span and sang.

Slick with sweat, our own, and everyone else's as the place grew packed. We smelled like horses. Tossing our manes, we breathed hard, danced and danced, wild eyed, looking for a ride.

Remember? Before it all went wrong. Before you lost your job, your home, your mind. Before I had children, learned to love a different kind of fun. You kept losing.

Weeks went by, the phone stopped ringing. It was easy not to think of you, I was tired, you wouldn’t be interested in my boring life. You dropped away, silently, stealthily. Suddenly you weren’t there, you weren’t anywhere. Where are you now? How can I find you?

If I had thought I could lose you, I would have tried harder. I would have found you, I would have brought you home. I could have been you, I could have been the one to lose my way.

The colour of remorse is crimson; a flood of red despair. Your hair was slick with it, trailing the tub, tacky, like the dancefloor, where we didn’t care in a different way.

Meet me there, you remember? Come back, I’ll take you dancing, I’ll hold you up, we’ll laugh until we cry. Are you in Heaven? I’ll meet you there. Wait for me - I’m on my way.

let's go back, you an me
dance with me, i'll twirl with the dust mop
and you'll laugh and pick dust out of my hair and say i'll never be old

let's go back, you an me
record me stealthily when i sing obscenely-loud songs in the shower
and play them over and over and over as i blush different shades of fire

let's go back, you an me
tickle me while i'm tryin' to play hopscotch
as i beg for mercy between gasps and giggles and threaten to wet my pants

let's go back, you an me
take me for never-ending piggy back rides, pretendin' i'm flyin'
then dump me on the dewy grass, make me laugh because you're laughing

let's go back, you an me
i'll push you in the fountain and you'll grin
and pull me in with you, we'll float on our backs
ignorin' the stares
and watch night fall in little pieces, here and here
except for in your eyes, which blind me

let's go back, you an me
paint sloppy, clumsy kisses on my cheeks
and make stupid looking necklaces out of sparkly plastic beads you know ill never wear

let's go back, you an me
whisper in my ear forever
so that now i can hear you in my head
and smile smiles that don't reach my eyes
and dance with the dust mop pretendin' that it's you

Winter, tricky entrapper,
cozy cuddler, night fiddler
nuzzler, tantalizer, whistler
sharp nailed cruel lover
seasonal unfailing seductress,
sprawling on the bed cloth of December,
rolling over a few months either side,
I would never take her for granted.

I see her peep through
the window curtains,
spying at the warm days eyeing me
and waiting for her to climb down the steps;
she is jealous, as she wants to linger
playfully riding on my back.

she seeped in to my blood stream,
like the narcotic effect of grass,
before I  know it happens
little by little to make me
forget my other loves completely
even without my permission.
Her wiliness is stealthily at work,
to monopolize me fully
separating me from others
yes, winter is cleverness clad in white.
Now, I am at her mercy, completely
my fingers, chest and lips strangely
enjoy the cold caresses, she gives each!

I realize, she has taken over-
my body and paints my mind's canvas,
with bubbling hallucinatory white,
she wants others tightly on her leash,
my other loves complain:
"you act just what is her will
you always wear her fragrance,
on you what an influence she wields!"
can I help when winter my darling,
brooks no excuses!

She exposes me before others
I look like a pusillanimous one,
cowering and cringing before her
none, even my true love, has
such absolute control over me
like she exerts, it's a secret
but true that I wriggle to get out,
of this white net she tenderly knitted-
for my comfort, which is,
pleasurable I think, to an extent,
yet difficult to accept at the same time.

Let us part before long, not to make
our relationship much complicated,
I'll wait, till the next season arrives
you are in my list of periodic partners,
I'll be ready with warmth in my heart,
for your eventful visit, that leaves
an impression far too long to ever forget.

1.
The old lady sits on the garden bench, a fixture,
from the days so far, colonial times to be precise,
thickly painted green, coat after coat,that covers up age,
after the incessant lashing of copious monsoon rains,this evening
the bench has a secret gleam, as if  it's age has been washed away for ever.
2.
Her hair, resplendent silver;the children playing on the sand bed
in the open space in front of  her bench, stand wondering:
far removed from realities familiar,she seemed,"Is she real?"
The old lady plays with a child that ran to her and embraced,
curious to touch her hair, happily it springs on to her lap,
her starched Sari gets crumpled,to it'smother
the old lady softly says"Don't bother children need space,
freedom and  care, love his smile, don't want to see it wither"
3.
She looks at the flowerbed and smiles to herself,
as if she remembered her own dreams a day too far.
The old garden bench, senses a magic,with a start it wakes up
from it's slumber and begins to prattle,"Yes, it's really her,
remember the passion filled kisses she exchanged  with her sweetheart,
when darkness came stealthily,like a crafty lover out to rob hearts,
right here on my lap, at a time love was a scent wafting low in the air
Where has he gone? I now wonder,a lot of monsoon clouds
burst up on me limitless quantities of water,after that"
4.
A wind so strong, like the hands of time ruffled
the leaves of the giant banyan tree,that stood sentinel,
leaves  started a cheerful dance, reminiscent of the play of life*
Perhaps the night the death waiting on the wings is little disappointed.

The train would leave in ten minutes
He came up to the window where I sat
And looked at me
With his hungry,
Longing eyes
And I at him
With a sudden rush of charity
And helplessness.
He must have been my age
Maybe younger!
With his eyes still seeing mine
He slowly bent down
And picked up his kettle
Which lay on the box full of glowing coal,
And he poured me a cup of tea
In an earthen cup.
He never asked if I wanted it;
Only stretched out his weak arm
Covered by an untidy rag
As if pleading me to take it
As if knowing that I would.
And all i could do was take it.
Then,
He stood there
Biting his lip
And staring at me
And my clothes
And the novel that lay on my seat
And the packet of biscuits beside it.
Catching his eye,
I offered him the biscuits.
First, his hands rose
But suddenly backed off.
He shook his head
And looked down.
Pride wounded.
I looked at the cup in my hand
And then at him
Thinking,"Did he make it himself?"
And then he smiled at me
As if saying "Yes!"
I felt a pain urging in me
And my throat was choked
I wanted to curse this heartless mob.
Wanted to do something,
Anything!
To help him.
I sat there wondering a thousand things
What did he eat everyday,
If he did manage to eat at all
Where did he live?
Did he have a family to look after and take care of?
Or worse..
Was he all by himself?
The engine's alarm brought me back
And I saw him
Still staring at me
Unmoved
Steady
With haunting eyes
That howled with pain
With pleads
And dreams..
And were yet, so hollow
Someone gave him a coin and whisked him away
Asking him to vanish
But he stood there
Staring blankly at me
We hadn't spoken a word
Yet he had become a friend
In just ten minutes
It seemed as if we had been pals forever
I smuggled out my wallet
Stealthily
As if I was committing a horror
And I stretched it out to him
Silently asking him to take it
He looked at it
And then back at me
I nodded
And he hesitantly accepted my gift
Who knows how much it was worth
Pocket money
Of a few months, perhaps
Then the train began to leave
He stood still there
Gaping at me with eerie eyes
A tear running down his thatced skin
His figure getting further as we moved
Moving away as the train carried me away with it
Standing on the platform
Where people came
Paused
Drank his tea
Threw some coins at him
Smashed his cup
And moved on
Banishing him into oblivion
'Drink it.. Or it will go cold'
My neighbour nudged me back to present reality
I looked out
There was no more of that station
Or him
Then I turned back to the man ans sighed
'I don't drink tea'

There’s nothing like the lovely rustic charm
Exuded by the far flung lush green country farm
Where trees in majesty sweep heaven with their crown
And birds with celestial music, the surrounding valley drown

Where the air, so pristine and sweet like the forest glade
And Heaven with rich profusion bless the country wide.
Where the rural folk in relentless toil, values and pride
With their simple, artless and modest life reside

My senses have ere long etched every sight n’ sound
Of that country side wherein my childhood inextricably bound
To those days of bliss, I would like to retreat
And splurge in memories that cascade down in surfeit.

On a beautiful day with the sun shining bright
And the white downy clouds lazily trailing west
We walked down to the creek to catch the silvery fish
And waited for them to come to the surface with a swish

On the rocky bank, breathless as we sat
Looking for the fish greedily nibbling at the bait
We felt the hook line suddenly going taut
With something from the other end pulling it tight

Of a sudden reflex as we lifted the rod upright
To our wild uproar, saw a fish dangling and twirling uptight.
“Angling in a brook on a bright sunny day
Is so much fun for the kids”, we heard someone say.

We went after dragon flies, by the side of the pond
And all through the fields and the pastures beyond
Meandering our way, chasing butterflies              
That, from flower to flower do nimbly flutter by,

We pace up and down, ever eager for the best catch
To carry home that winged thing with no other match
To shut it in a glass jar to survey it close
And watch it splay its wings in resplendent gloss.

Back from school when homework is done,
Quickly, gathering friends, we move as one
To the open ground beyond the clump of trees
To run and play in the evening breeze

As black birds wing their way across the sky
And the ruddy orb in the west is about to die,
When shadows slowly shrink and shrivel
And the dusky eve spreads a smoky veil,

Only then, demurring, we leave our play
Cursing the elements that Time doesn’t stay
****** and gritty, homeward as we plough our way
We promise once more, we would meet the next day.

As hot summer fades and dark clouds gather round,
When east wind scatters dry leaves from the ground,
When elders announce the arrival of an impending shower,
Stealthily we plan to go swimming in the nearby river.

On stormy nights as we lie, listening to the splatter of rain
Over tiled roof with the clatter of a speeding train
How swift, we drift involuntary to the castle of Slumber
To be lulled asleep by songs of magical tone and timbre!

Now, staying in the mad rush of a steaming city
With people surreptitiously chasing goals so petty
How I miss those yester years that are fled
And yearn for the sylvan paths once more to tread!!

Taking away your peace of mind
Hunting you down everywhere
Every move you make is mine
Stealthily moving in the shadows
Thoughts of tying you up linger
Allowing escalation of my heart beat
Looking for the right words
Killer instincts secretly penned
Even among the grey matter
Rationalizing fear, the brain is the stalker

in a fitting finale
i summon
the vanquisher of death
to end
this interminable cycle of transmigration

the ask....

a taste of ambrosia
stealthily hidden
in the tranquil crevice
between
a potpourri of thoughts

crescent bearing jewel
pure as jasmine
grant me
the nectar of immortality

©2019

The chill of winter bites into the skin
And the valley sleeps in muffled din
In the freezing blustery winter night
The shivering trees stay huddled and tight

Stars have lined up in the sky
With cotton clouds swiftly sailing by
The moon light seeping through the veil
Makes the foliage glisten in the dale

Sharp noises sounding eerie
Leave the valley a place so scary
These sounds parley in a tongue unknown
Of gory tales, to none ever known

Did some cannibal tribe once congregate
In this nether territory to live segregate
What midnight revels had they held
No one knows and history remains cold

Now, here amid thickets and thorny shrubs
Where darkness, like a Fiend proudly struts
And in leaf fringed corners and crevices wide
Serpents coil with poisonous fangs in hide
    
Look, the sly fox walking stealthily away
After feeding greedily on his hapless prey,
Through the ravine and down the furrow
How he sneaks into his covert burrow

The glassy brook that mirrored the skies
Now in dark, under a thick blanket lies
But the water rushing through pebbles and rocks
With sonorous music, the nightly calm breaks

Among the branches of towering trees
Birds have perched and roost in peace
Little birdies with downy feathers
Cuddle under their mothers splayed wings

From far off woods comes a shrieking howl
As frightening as the hoots of a night owl
Wind, rushing through needle pines
Sounds like a child when he, in pain whines

Now the valley sleeps in muffled din
Until the Sun for his daily ritual parades in
In day light this valley would be up and awake
And life for sure will a renewed turn take

My emotions towards you are aquatic.  They drip, slip, pulse
and flow to the path of most resistance.  Subtle beauties
stealthily scrapes my fear built walls to sudden stops.

These firing synapses, so intense that post spinal separation
I feel as if I have woke from a dream, fallen from the
beautiful skeleton winged bird carrying me.

The years I have spent hidden from eye’s view were attempts
at thwarting toothy rejections.  Hidden, you wouldn’t
notice me cautiously juggling salacious seven faces.

You see, if I were to over commit past the “we” to the “us”,
my fine, out of tune Life of Possibilities would rattle
down, fracture shut.  In a positive way of course!

I fear that if I gave you my crumbled, humbled heart you would
leave it somewhere, somewhere that the ravenous street
sweeper sharks might get their carnivore fins on it.

You knew all of this already, placing us back at level 1.
I tried my damndest, you can hardly see.  Sorry
my dear, this is the best my poems can do.

Lingering above this desert the first rains of winter,
streets greasy with oil/water/rubber cocktail.

Vegas spruces for the tourist onslaught,
bettors eager to lay their Superbowl favorite.

For a weekend the nation marches to a singular drum,
hotels swelling with the faithful to this Neon City.

The Champion stealthily concealed behind the mirror
through which no tout, nor soothsayer may perceive.

The press have lain out every faceted interview,
now only the true believers need worry beads.

This poet shrugs: for him the game has little meaning,
he looks instead to the clouds overhanging the valley.

Bring on the sacks of Sunday, the pass of ******* objects,
there will be snow upon the Redrocks to chill that morn.

Judy Judy Kansas cutie / it starts in the heartland / Tornado = social change through manipulated crisis / Toto the only free agent / Dorothy struck on her head by the closing window of virtual possibility / She realizes that hope'n'change have reached the prairie / Alice in Wonderland Hollywood / Kansas as futurist narrative / Star Wars pre-dated / It's a Wonderful Mythic Life / Miss Gulch as Henry Potter / Witchery in bitchery: Hillary 2016 / Scarecrow as Celtic bog-sacrifice victim / Tinman as ****** therapy client / Did that hurt? No - it felt wonderful ! / Bible-belt Pentecostal subtexts: "the anointing" / obsolete leonine monarchies / Louis Quatorze the Sun King /  enlightenment through concussion / the tyrant must be resisted from the heartland / populist progressives plot stealthily to justify their rule through the wizardry of science / the tyrant utilizes tech to manipulate the credulous / green state fascism / journey out of ontic inevitability into the futurist nightmare / eco-mammon bailouts / infantile mental midgets ruled by witch-tyrants = One World Munchkinland / Dorothy as redeemer-Messiah / Dorothy as Mary Poppins / America exports populist prophecy to the greater world / Glinda the Matriarch-Goddess / Glinda as transcendent Wisdom / the Anti-witch antidote / Patriarchy creates "special effects" subterfuge / flying monkeys: shock-troops of the witch / simian social justice warriors / Obama as Witch of West AND Wizard simultaneously / flying monkeys: brown-shirt armies of new multi-culti order / George W. Bush was the the witch the house ("Hope & Change') fell on / Over the Rainbow: somewhere beyond ****** identity grievance-mongering / There's no place like the Restoration of All Things

quite stealthily,
the big fat yellow bootay
cruised
by the very intent,
young brave lad
so carefully
sharpening
his
blades,

oh,
so,
quietly.

oh,
so,
slowly....

a skill she had
perfected these many months
on the run.

and what fun months
they were.

she slid by
oh.
so,
very,
silently,

then a nice
distance away
she turned
her big fat yellow bootay
around.

and.......

When she opens the door partly
without any noise heard,outside
to let him in and close it again
the lovelorn moon gets jealous
a still cloud transforms in to an
eager ******, shameless and stares.

The smell of danger present in the air
heighten the thrill of them not being
just another regular pair of lovers
who could  easily meet,when they wish.
Such secretiveness adds a spicy flavour
to their forbidden love that stealthily moves,
to deceive the spying eyes everywhere.

When she opens the door to let him out,
a snow owl, startled, wakes up and hoot,
His way of saying,"Some things happen"
the moon, off color and tired of waiting,
let's out a sigh, like a breeze and acts coy.

People take ownership
of your words
your memories
and make them
theirs
  
Subtle shifts
in intonation
detail and substance
Not untrue
not really a lie
but not yours
Not anything that
has your essence in it
And they weave you
into them
through those fond
‘remembered’ words
and false
fabricated moments

Taking something
from you
labelling it
in their own hand
blotting the ink
dry with integrity
absent or not
they parade
that part of you
appropriated
Like a head on a stick
a scalp on a belt
or a heart on a sleeve
depending on their need

And you can’t reclaim
something stolen as softly
and stealthily as that
it would be churlish
it would be cruel
Perhaps their desire
to have you
as a jigsaw piece
of their making
in their sky
is the greatest compliment
and is worth
becoming part fiction
condoning a myth