Sunday, 23 December 2012

Continuance 2



The thing about life is that it is always revolving 
When I last heard human voice I cannot tell 
But there is a sense in rebelling, forgetting every modern value 
Looking back at my pure self, wondering where I had begun 
My lips, my tongue and genitals, the wherefrom I'm alive, 
The solitudinal marks over my sequestered body doesn't seem to remind 
Of the days gone by, the nights in dark alleys and water borne vectors 
Infesting the mind with colourful plaster of never-ending myriad of thoughts 
And endless longings for you and me 

Walking down the neighbour's fence I recalled you had loved me once 
In the dark night we copulated until the sky turned white with jism 
Faltering once I had tripped on your love 
Acquitted of guilt and remorse I now walk the roads of Delhi and New York 
Would there be food at my table tonight? 
Would the dark angels play sporty dance under my calibrated network? 
I fear longing of words, the keyboard coming to life 
Inviting me to a sadist feast of nouns and tears 
World coming to my table, knocking at my door 
Walking in uninvited, disrupting my solace, my space. 

The kisses and forlorn foreplays, never ending bullshit over breakfast on Tuesdays 
How easy it is for us to complain 
To say it was not our fault, blame it on time 
Laugh, cry, express emotions, this faulty devotion, 
Where, why, when, how? These never ending questions in commotion 
Did it break your heart to watch them die? 
Delve deep and remain happy, unanswered but it's a journey...