Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Trippin'

I have this strange feeling
Like the world’s on a summersault,
Round and round like a Giant wheel
With me at the iris of the London eye.

It began when my toes followed my other heel,
Going in circles but never on a straight lane.
Every step seemed a giant leap,
With the road going wobbly, long and winding.

Mary Jane and her ecstatic cousin,
Her soporific niece with that dreamy son
Of an ancestor from the den;
Couldn’t compete with this perpetual concussion.

Perhaps, it’s much better than falling in love.
Often succumbed, only to perfect the fall.
Though it hurts, yes it does,
This pain doesn’t really last for long.

Just in case you're wondering,
What I've been rambling aloud,
I'm trippin' on my shoe lace,
Once again, here I go.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Contrary Climax

She sat straddled atop lust’s stem
Galloping on the green of yearning
With him behind her, vulnerably lain.

Gravity succumbed to reality;
Fiction seemed peculiar
To this feeling of ecstasy.

Elated she rode the jolt,
Her head stroked the clouds,
With hands raised, caressing the sky.

Their hearts thumped harder
Like the bellowing thunders
In tumultuous tandem;

In subtlety yet at light’s alacrity,
Pulses raced with the union
And it seemed to last an eon.

The zephyr from those tresses
Triggered a hurricane
Followed by a heavy downpour.

Sultry saline droplets trickled
From each body, like in off seasonal monsoon,
As the clouds clashed at the seventh heaven.

Locked in embrace, they lay;
A silver lining glistened
Over the sheath of wetness on their skin.

With smudges of crimson,
Love bites sprinkled, here and there
The pants and gasps cued their thirst for more.

On the verge to orgasm,
Stealthily she turned around,
As the phantasm of lust took her over.

A last kiss and a snap,
He was left beheaded and blinded forever in desire.
They reached climax yet they both were poles apart.

Wednesday, May 06, 2009

Victim Sesame

With a barrel of spices over its head,
In seclusion, it lies, away from the humankind.
None pays heed for this lonely seed,
Its wail is unheard. Or, treated
As the shepherd’s third cry for wolf.

The naked truth lies cloaked in deceit.
Justice stands blindfolded and forsaken
With eyes bleeding from within.
The demons’ haven of an ancient myth
Has truly turned beastly under a beast’s rule.

Once slaves, of an old Master,
Guests they became
And slowly turned to residents, over time.
Bonded with their kinfolk of archaic times;
And turned the desolate to be their destiny.

In times of yore, the Enlightened reigned;
Peace prevailed amongst the kith and kin.
Now the demons have returned
With an appetite for destruction
To prey upon the lone sesame.

PS: http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/4331986.cms

Saturday, May 02, 2009

I met Mahatma


I met old Mahatma today,
At the turning of a narrow lane.
Opposite a small corner shop
In the middle of the road he had taken a break,
Smiling, calm and poised was his face.


He looked grubby and withdrawn,
And out of place as he was from a different age;
Where he influenced peoples' lives, revolutions, struggles,
Conspiracies, scandals, greed and events monumental;
Like no other he had played a role, in each, indelible.



Together, we walked a lil further, down sepia pathway,
Reminisced and refreshed a few things, I had once read.
After which, I left him with a leather tramp.
Cos’ being selfish with this selfless being was pointless
As he still had to travel for long.



I sent Mahatma away,
At the bend of another lane.
He never did mind in whose company he stayed
Cos’ he didn’t judge them by their colour or race;
In a tattered ten rupee note, I met this world’s Mahatma today.