Sweet Enemy

 

Though your enemy, I am sweet!

My neck thus deserves a softer treat!

The Whisper

 

The mighty lord whispers in a soft voice,

‘My son grow thou strong

and sire chances for those without any choice!’

A Brief Love-grip

 

Love loops around on an early winter day,

In the heart, endless things to say,

Shines a gently warm, bright ray,

Before the icy winters shout, and chuck it all out,

Enjoy and make hay!

The Feminizing Man

 

Fragrance scented and colours prismatic,

Flowers seduce with surrendering softness

and intoxicating aesthetics,

This alluring, sweet poison slays many,

Parasitically it creeps into

the hibernating, sleepy male vitality,

And the red, gushing blood of sense and sanity

turns into silly swirls of bluish oblivion.

Foolish torrents of bewitching beauty follow,--

A marvellous decolourisation of

flesh, vision and potency!

 

The woman does the same with the man,--

Her moves lie under the surface,

Letting loose amorous tremors,

The tamed beast clinging to feeble, unmanly chains:

the emotions, cooings and the mellowed stone,

Then she slaughters the prey most manly,

Bravo! Salutes to the femininity:

the hardest heart under the shield softest.

 

Weakness has its strength in vulnerability,

Don’t mistake power by the steel in muscles,

Soft flowers and seductive women

thrive on the dew shower of temptations,

Eyes thirsty, pining senses;--

The altars of the insected, infatuated masculinity,

More the offerings on the altar,

more the Goddess thrives,

So many wither to bloom a smile

in her sly eyes.

 

But her demands from the worshipper

are never satiated,--

Greedy Goddess!

She thus hunts around,

But greed can never make one complete,

So she just remains a fraction,

Men cut themselves to the same

to complete her missing portion,

The happy Goddess then

laughs at the follies of the maimed.

 

Black bee, man sacrifice to

prove the worth of an ounce of femininity,

Rivers eat mountains, while the stones

surrender to the fluidity of the majestic masseur,

The woman meanders to fragment the man,

Making round, harmless, cuddly pebbles.

 

As the feminine dreams web around,

The ensnared caterpillar hums the songs of love,

The spider salivates and chuckles,

The trap of seduction,

The cobwebs of death,

The river thus triumphantly

rolls on with mighty boulders,

The song of macabre swirling

among the torrential giggle and frightening moan.

 

Femininity wins through its weakness,

The flowers smile and bloom on showers of tears,

The woman makes the man a means to her end,

Travels on his strong back

to reach her destination

and find the purpose of her life.

Oh God, that Hollowness!

 

Oof that soul entombed in misery!

The ragamuffin, the beggar,

Great potter’s potsherd he was,

Those decaying, yellow teeth

splashed and sprayed this world

with misery and incurable jaundice.

 

His trifle weight could outweigh

the fattest people in the street,

And eyes ever so colourless

could gobble down springs all.

 

The ears like the deepest gorges,

could accommodate a billion sympathies

and countless words soft,

The tongue would talk to millions,

if the opportunity arose,

Alas, the milling humanity around

pretended not to be visible at all,

People scampered past with the

careful eyes of a cautious thief;--

saving both their conscience and money.

 

His emotions lay buried deep

in his famished breast,

This was his treasure trove,

He kept it safe,

Afraid to take them out,

lest they slaughter these as well,

His bleeding heart would have

painted this planet in gloomy red.

 

A dog, cat poop, wrappers, dust, snoot, phlegm,

And he just another addition to these,

Almost indiscernible in his insect kingdom,--

Dusting, rottening,  petty and cast-out.

 

The accusing emptiness,

And the hallowed universe around,

Holding his mocking lighthouse,

Throwing feeble, exposing light over the

fallacies lolloping under the abounding waves

of the booming sea of hilarity and well-being.

The Coin

 

My story is strange, 
To understand it, you need less brains

and more open of a heart, 
I was a coin with lots of shine, 
Then I passed through hundreds of hands

one after the other,--

The moulding darkness gave me fearful creep, 
And I was lying at the top of the mint’s heap, 
Somehow I was given to a young guy, 
Who tossed me in air and made me fly, 
Then I was given to an old lady,
She kept in a place that was very shady, 
I noticed I had lost my shine, 
And I didn't look young and fine. 
That is because I had grown old, 
Now, I know my life's story is told,
There are endless scars

and imprints on my soul.

I have lost my value in my own esteem,

But they still haggle over me sometime.

The Last Prayer

 

It has been months since

I last lit my faith's lamp,

So many days have passed since

prayers chimed in my dark den's air damp,

My meditating self,

Now gives atheistic yelp.

Lost my faith!

Lost my prayer!

Lost my rituals!

Lost my meditative trance!