To the good times

 

Drink away

To the merry times of the juvenile

Yore..

When the head was young

And heart not sore!

 

 

Man near say “fie”

Let demons die

And angels cry.

 

When the riley firebrand tames

Not a vestige

Not a garland to shame

To the loathing, of

The dioramic head!

Merry be ye;

Oh lonesome firebrand

A challis to your dreams

Cheers ! Me thinks...

Music For Me

I am a diffident fool
They say!
I cannot sing
For my voice is of a croaking mule.
I cannot in my memory rewind
The lyrics of the best sung songs

I care not..no more...
I want to remember lyrics no more..
for the wind that shakes the maize
is music in its ruffle,
for the sand that churns in the air..
And the ibis that flips...

to the screeching stillness of the
punctured tyres!
To the Cold wind that cuts across the ear
There is music..
which I hear...
too the lisping of the fishes in the sea

there is music in the harp..the lute and the cello
and also in the baritone mellow
that I see with the closing of my eyes
the silence and the stillness is music to me

The craving lullaby..or the blaring of the horns..
Are all the myriad music for thee..
Are music for Me.
 

random muses

If my words I could pen:

Cocooned in a Den,

Scribbled would I ...what?

for my mind he does thwart..

blessed is my wanton heart:

Tarries when I say Sart!!

wanton acts...do not sway...

Let me stray !!

His RED Pajamas

on a bright Tuesday morning
Sipping tea..
From my terrace i see
An octagenarian in his Red pajamas
bald spate!!

I smiled...
Red at Eighty

He brought his paper and bread!
crossed the road..and was dead..
a speeding truck did it!!

there he lay:
in his free-flowing Red
Him and his Red Pajamas

let us not

can we not cling:
to hope.
to light!
to addictions
to joy
a new light?

should we?
need we?
can we just be humans and not leeches

why cling:-
when u can
make:
a new day
a new life
a ray of hope
 yours!

and with every making
take sorrows,
joys anguish and love withal
a new story.
a new tale
all yours
for all!

THE MAN AND HIS MUSE

the poetry will remain incomplete without a Thank you, to a stranger I met at a bookshop... where we discussed: Neruda, Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Cooleridge, Southey...Da Vinci, Michealangelo...and so many to name, each had a muse, and each man including some despots we can name had a muse too! this poem is dedicated to all muses and amused..!

The Deep Sunlight

Cascaded...

Slanted

As the cat basked

Slovely Gloriously

                                          He was busy with his Chisel
                                          Admiring His cat
                                          his Muse...
                                          the Amused Sculptor smiled:
                                          Shy, Lovely,
                                          She Could Purr...
                                          Indeed:-
                                          Mused the sculptor!

Bastard!
She smiled
How many had he lain'
Could he keep count?
Could he remember ?
She Knew;
He was the candle..
She lavished
to Dance like a moth.
Like a mad frenzy, she must
Dance to his Chisel..
Bid..bidding..

                                        His eyes roved over Her;
                                        Drawing in every Breath...
                                        Nape to Toes...
                                        Nude  
                                        As the looks locked.
                                        Flushed innocence of a Muse.


"My Demi God"
The mused Amused...!
He had stilled her every where...
In the Mermaids hair,
In the Angels lilt,
In the cupids lift
In the demur eyes,
In the queens brow!
In a mysterious smile..
In a flashing Cherub
Across the seas...across the works
In every works a little more!
she basked...
Smiled ..
Slanted!

                   TIRED  the sculptor abandoned...
                       took her by his coarse hands...
                           The muse was his..
                                His rote to rant!

But Bloods are Dye

its a follow up to :
http://anemboldenedmystique.blogspot.in/2012/11/hurling-cusses.html

Cussess
&@#..@

feels lighter
Better
Like a whiff of smoke
Takein in slow...
Let..out... in circles

Like a Show
Rough
Coarse
Abuses..
Harsh
Raw
Abuses
Flavoured..
Savoured
Abuses

Wounding Deep

Why should I hear?
and not vent at all?
Let me vent the cussess
Hurled and hurdled deep
By the one who hurts
By the one who runs deeper
In the veins like blood
Like a kin
of a second skin.
But kin are blood
thicker than water.
Wine?

I measure softly
tread gently
they are my blood-
I reason
My black soul laughs
Tells me:
they are'nt kins..
They clean not like water.
Cling hurt like dye.
Black-Red.
Cusses are Dye!

Hurling cusses

I am hurt,

and you people:
hurt me more
...



I am crying,
 deep inside
and you rake
you demand
your barbed words
wrench my heart.
I too retaliate!!

not thinking-
uncaring
for the
Consequences.



did you ever ask
why do I hurl
cussess,
use words to swear.



Behave : like a
rough-shod Pseudo man.


we be of one blood
ye and I: I am told
But bloods are dye...

Addiction

A whiff,




ooh Delight.



A Swig,



Tipsy Liberation!



An injected ministration-



A Raving hallucination



addiction



passion



totaling to:



A Six feet under:



a PALE halo of a body



Turned to a



Darkness,



Sheer Devils Delight...!!



.

Sleep

My restless livers...

Tired of measuring life?

You traveller

To sleep I lure you..

Come.

To comfort

To lull you

to rest,

Come.


(for some reason- I cannot give a physical description to the traveller, no matter how much I try)

Dream on

They say...


You are morose:

You put a wall around you.

You bolster when touched.

Deep within

Your clasped.

Your clasps:

you desire to break!

You cannot

You are trapped,

In your thoughts:

Deep raging desires!




To road You Stride

Road to dreams

Passions

Desires

To glory

set in Red.


Tarry:

The world may Shout

Stop, it may Beckon.

Rest it may Scream.



Tarry not!

Travel...Steady

Grim Ferocity

Bright Levity

Stop not till you Reach

And when You do

Smile:

For all the Rage

Shall be spent!

Dreams fulfilled.

Embrace loved!

Glorified Red.

Let me be instead

The Khamsin travels
far across
with the desert winds
swirling sand
swirling the gold...

The weary warrior travels...
Tired ...
Dying...
Fatigued....
No Mirage..
No green Love...
No Holy pastures lure....
No watery respite.
The Sun cruel like the sword
Strikes with its rays of light
Shades of gold-black,
scald the skin
Roughened weathered..
Beaten!

Relief:
She stands:-
Mocks
Lures,
Tempts.
Laughs in Derision!!

Death:
She smiles
Gentle as the lover's kiss

The traveller smiles:

The soul:
Stares..wanton...
dying to yearn
To the lover's arm.

Death beckons...
The lover smiles..
The traveller walks
Into the gentle arms...
Peace reigns
The khamsin rests

O! Traveller:
I envy Thee:
Take my life,
I give mine to Thee..


*Khamsin: Storm in the desert

Insomniac

Weary wide eyes
Tired wandering ..
coursing
through the desert,
The wanton soul
pleads rest,
the sore slippers:
weep as
they churn the sand.
the mirages:
Them dreams beckon!!

Alas!
The weary traveller
Travels
Travails
Seeks solace...
Underneath the swarovski
Studded sky!!!

Shuts his eyes to sleep!
She mocks:
She frolicks
She refuses
To give company-
She cruel:
She ....
The treacherous Sleep

FREE

Let the sky be the Dive Board:


To let me plunge into the sea.



Let me wear Blinkers:

So, the depth I cannot see.

...

Let my senses be numb:

so that, I cannot feel

The Abyss of the sea



Letme be there...

Amongst deep water..

so that

I may be FREE

A SLICE OF THE SKY

Vast Blue:
Large Expanse of a small view
Darkened in the sun
Brightened by the Moon.
Churning paint with every 
starry shift!


witness to pain
joy
And
'Morrow
Ageless, Nameless
Cloudless....Loveless Sky
Poor slave I:
Crave 
A slice of you!
O SKY!!