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Showing posts from July, 2010

Towers of grey

Million rays have set On those isles of grey Half drowned towers Of clustered destiny. Once, even before prehistory As Apollo mated Oceana She soared up high As he drew her close Showering isles astray as morning dews In their celestial ecstasy. Beard kings, short and stout Walked the ramp Of those inland water ways Spread, a linen They dragged along Their potbelly gown Leaving tales of histories In those mighty royal highways Of gluttonous raptures. Chess board lords In their cross checked moves Wrecked one another And blew up blocks Black and white. They had queens Of glittering blaze Moving statues or Antique widows. Had daughters clad In Persian carpets Veiled and pinched To the balcony gaze Of somber stone towers. A souvenir regenerated For the annual harvest. Alms in decorum For the fertility gods. To this land of treasured pork and improper surnames Men came, sailing From the land of marred Albatross They brought with

Art of Faking

When the theme seems moving And the idea cunning You write a poem. Sell in kilos The flesh sliced off Garnished. Speak volumes Of love and loss Set on a grinding machine. Pen down From dawn to dusk Market scenes or Street end desires Write about labor pain Or frogs, in your nearby pond. Mom is a female You don’t write about When nights over run Days of boiled lust The lines speak of Hours lost to years In a mulberry bush Of infant foot steps Pasted letters bold Slip of the white sheet In tears imprinted Of ditching memories. The ink should ooze out To cover the drains Of your hollow self Writing is not an art It’s a foul play of moving dice Calculate your steps Count your tales Color your fakes Courier it in black and white Catch it, a red hot iron. Have it plain With no frills or frocks Wrap it over Your lipstick glitter Kiss your neighbor For birth rate high Hang it down The Vienna market Your poem is ready

Castrated Catharsis

The lava is thick and gluey. it seeps in to my pores and peels off my skin am blazing within I dived in to a near by sea but a shark spat me out Ran to the fish market to find ice cubes big for that shark but I saw its tail swinging in a prehistoric weighing machine I rushed to a way side hamlet it had twelve ponds and a canal. but the pool saint there taught me new lessons of life. still I managed to dash deep in to the tenth pond from west end I saw a crocodile preaching sermons on how to catch a monkey with a fullfledged heart. Ran for my life to the mountains of ice I saw a man crossed legged tall and straight muscle powered glamour guy He is hot as a pepper end said my prayer room scraps. He saw me burning and skated away, for fear of a deluge, to a nearby city of rivers where I too can plunge for a penance I did it too but under water saw disbelief, a planet, burning red I lept out and now as I rise in this rain I