THE BALLAD OF THE LITTLE BOY LOST- LINES WRITTEN UNDER MIGRAINE

It rained and it rained and it rained
After years of my long relationship with it anyhow
My soul had been so parched that its surface curled black
Like a dried tongue and exposed red bony gums of erosion
But now when the world had came to document its supposedly dry misery
It had apparently grown bored of being a desert
And decided to turn itself into a long shallow lick of lake
Land that once danced dry heaving with heat waves
Now sung with the deadly whine of mosquitoes
It grew small tidal waves and an infestation of frogs
Anything not big or strong enough to hold its head above the dirty water
Took in a lungful of liquid and died, ballooned and stinking
In the ditches and ravines where the corpse of the little boy lost floats
Many chickens and a odd small goat, surprised by so much unaccustomed filth
Ran away in apathy and disgust
Downstream from the brothels
The biblically dead earth of a heart that could not love anyone
Sprung green with a plague of luscious weeds
All day, day after day the gray clouds of unreason gathered force
With such gravity that they threatened to oppress the sun
Insects tumbled out of the sky, with wings crackling and prickly legs
The beetles shrilled, Dracula fanged and yellow green
The wind picked up and tossed the leaves of the mango tree to shreds
And there blew also her hair as she lay on the wind swept beach
Thinking of god only knows what
The dogs hid their ears under their paws and looked anxious
The crows amassed in their ramshackle nest
And shat piles of reeking white
And the wild birds fell silent
She laughed out loud , this “sweet child in time”
At this outrageous rhapsody
The clouds menaced and massed
Underneath lain in tomb of concrete solid earth
Sinking back into the silence of the mud
Was the little boy lost.

FAITH

FAITH
His head rests on my bosom
Eyes closed; My chin reclines on his scalp
Salt n’ pepper beard crowds his face
His hand stopped abruptly.
My breathe came in deep dense bursts
Sex was yet to creep in
But the eyes were bedewed with tears
He flared out “You had given yourself away to someone else”
I had nothing to say.
Bedroom or office; alleys or highways; or rundown teashops
Suspicions lurk in the city
In every breath- suspicion
My life has been spent too
Amongst Pyrrhonian poets
The seed of my anatomy was yet refused by all
All instincts of survival go into aestivation
Neither body wakes, nor poesy
And I couldn’t really articulate
The unspoken words
Take; preserve; not my anatomy
But a poet’s faith.

This is my first attempt to write something that's not in verse so prior apologies to everyone. I actually kinda envy the other bloggers who can write about randomly mundane things with so much panache . A thing that i am desperately trying but I have A premonition I will miserably fail in that. So I thoght I should pen down what I write about sort of a manifesto I guess I'm not sounding too political.So what do I write about 1.the conflicts of desire & possibility 2. and how does it sustain an illusionof timelessness 3. about unsatisfied impulses & heartbreaking losses 4. how passion seeks its living fulfillment 5. and how we trace & mourn defeat 6. and how as a result of it a path is broken into the psyche 6. and finally the fact that reality can never enter a text without mediation.

Wide Awake Now

My sleep is run over by locomotives
And my mornings seem to be bulldozed
The dreams all sell well
In the fairytale market of failures
All sights are branded by flyovers
And all sounds sound like infallible deliverance
Consumption is the enamel of hatred
Clothing to drape oneself with endless inhibitions
To live is to hibernate thinking of summer days
Fooling oneself under the firmament starry
It's all right i'm wide awake now.