To A Forsaken Glory

Look around, what do you see?
A forlorn glory reduced to lore and stories;
An East and West stained in Red, A North and South with power hungry Mouths;
A Center that is writhing in Its Painful Past;
A Crown that reflects Inhumanity Aghast;
But we do look ahead, towards Prosperity and Peace so serene;
Because there is a promise, a hope, somewhere in the Saffron, White, and Green.....

Despair

The light was thinning out, the doors closed upon me sooner than I could take my next breath. It wasn’t the usual feeling of despair, or that familiar weight on my chest I felt, which smothered me. Like a quagmire I was being sucked deeper into a blissful oblivion which promised peace and rest but I had this undying fear within me which persuaded me to escape it. A vision flashed in front of my eyes, was a familiar vision, of a child sitting in the cosmic lap of time and stretching its arm out at the stars. It was my representation of freedom, of a chest full of breath. How sadistic! What I need the most comes to my mind when I cannot have it.

It is a losing battle. I find no way I can escape this. However slow and tedious it may be, I feel light is escaping me very fast. You say I need to take it easy, it shall be alright soon, but you stand on the other side, where it is greener, where you don’t have to view the world through a tiny chink on a glorified wall. But you still ask me to calm down. I have trusted you, and shall keep doing so. Ironically, I have a smile on my face while I go down under, I have this assurance that even if I fall it shan’t be that painful, you are there to assuage my pain, placate my nerves that writhe in apprehension. Why are you so far away, where I can see you just as a memory lingering barely in the forgotten corners of my mind? Like a playful wraith I find you philandering with my suffering, pointing at me and laughing, clucking at my helplessness and watching the spectacle of me annihilating myself. Ever seen a spider spin a web around its prey? Graceful, isn’t it? I wonder how the prey feels, suffocated, afraid, hapless and hopeless, a being that has given up the will of being one? I try hard to feel that web around me, try to feel the pressure around me, but all I can see is your glorious, coruscant face slyly mitigating the seething pain. Do you want me to perish happily, with content and without remorse?  I shall do so, for you, for your happiness, for the trust you have in me, for the belief we entail. But tell me once, softly, that it wouldn’t hurt, I am afraid of pain, of blood, of darkness. Just tell me once that you’d be happy, that you’d like it. I know it wouldn’t hurt then.

Watch over me, while I fade away…

Providence

Often in your words I find peace, light, an irradiated awe so bright

Often in your words I find dismay, despair, a battered hope beyond repair...

Often in your eyes I find love, desire, an allaying fire

Often in your eyes I find listless, aching, howls from a soul shrieking...

Often in your heart I find a space, embellished, by sequins so cherished

Often in your heart I find end, of perseverance, dark beyond deliverance...

Eden

Prevalent in these, woods are some strange rituals;

of unknown deities, and unseen Daemons!

Tis where they, do not hack down fraternal prey;
tis where they, do not devour brethren in mindless affray!


Tis where you shan’t find, splattered entrails and crushed souls in a grind;
tis where you shan’t surmise, your own’s demise!


But in these woods there is a lingering disease;
of cloying love of a seething peace!


These woods stink of perfection and a silent abjuration;
of life of strife of a will to survive!


These woods are abstruse, of elation in wound of joy in bruise;
these woods are divine, of blindness in the brightest sunshine!


Here you may lose your way, letting your imagination astray;
here you may live a bit fine within a clockwork design!


Tis a wondrous world where you reside;
garnered by death darkness and a glorious divide!


Please visit it more often than not;
for here is where all ends is brought!!!

For Gandhi, The Mohandas

What end is there in my obstinacy, breaking the pliant with my insolence;


Lashing on the dead skin, there is no blood;

But there is a screech, a silent wail, in those wet eyes, in that brittle voice;

A trembling hand reaching out to a closure, though inhibited by a benign petulance;

Do not accuse me, I am an idol, an axiom, a providence, a prophet;

I am not hollow, but brimming forever, I am not dismal, but a frail fervor....

Fragile

Dazed was I, looking at the blinding aura of the black night sky, lying on my back tethered to a recluse, searching myself amongst the myriad those glittered.


Dazed was I, at the soporific halo that shone around my dreams, crashing yet one, subliminal like a wraith smiling at me from an intangible distance.

Dazed was I, from the beclouding of my eyes in the wake of the silent glory, brittle and simmering, in the tepid touch of the environing blaze.

Dazed was I, watching the immiscible spectral cavort of an invisible danseur, from cold to warm in a warping inanity of draping skin.

Dazed was I, praising my own frailty, collapsing onto my own volition, imbibed whole into my own softening singularity.


Dazed was I, at the egression, gloating onto a diminishing trail, a scent left floating in my withering dimension.

Congruo

There was a sea in the middle of my bosom, ebbing and tiding within my dead spaced blossom,



A sequined death to the glittering fate's denials, dividing life into mere conforming trials.........

Espoir

From the deafening screech of a catatonic mind,
Languid and livid from the verve left behind;



Death by a smile so virulently divine,
Ascension to the Sol in my aubade's design.....

Reverie

The upstate of my demented, passing away into the calmness unintended;
 

Catch those souls running by, that dove which could never fly;
 

Stoned am I to have you kiss me, opiated for those apparitions I see.....

Pythein

That ringing haze in my head, one place where nothing bred;

Desolation in the farm of the dead, quenched by something dull and red;

Tangling in my legs while I run, tearing through my skin, a little pleasure a little burn;

Holding tight onto the dangling skin, the torn limbs, the broken joint, galloping endlessly to where life aroint;

A place where the phantasms at rampart, bribing with blood and flesh my vanguard;

They are the vicissitudes of this visage, the lore of a glorious forage;

Enshrined within this epitaph are those undead dreams, raising from their graves they chew through the living seams;

Infect the sentience render a philandering bereavement, the joy, the felicity, a farce of my embalmment;

The virulence of the cloying amour, no ears for that putrid clamour;

Drag that torn limb over the barbed fate, no more soul left to claudicate;

Hack me again till I smile, a sheared skin was never servile;

Like juvenility playing in splashes, my frivolity livens in whip lashes;

And then the blood bespattering, colours of a monolithic simpering;

To rot for ever they lie, be born for end is nigh…