Forever lost...

A slip between the cup and the lip,
Seemed to have a rather tragic end,
He dreamed of romance, looked in a sacred casket,
Within two peoples hearts,
She dreamed of love for the world and lust for the wooers....

There were men who loved a piece of chunky meat,
Dreamed of devouring her flesh black and blue,
There were men who thought of true love,
A desire for her in the deepest of nights and a speck of light in the break of dawn,
Then there was her who was numb to it all...

The mighty fall of love proved to rather melancholic after all,
A battle between instinct and acquired taste,
Swirling within the wind of hopes and dreams,
Which paints a rather perfect image,
Not too far from the truth not too close to impulsive perception...

This magic potion was cursed by the demons hands,
Saw it create love and wanted to tear it apart,
Used its broken pieces to wipe its tears,
Used its changing colors to soothe its needs,
Locked it away and denied its consumption to its creators...

The curse of lost love has diverged from its path,
Soon to find it again,
Shall find those who seek the burning ray of passion,
Shall shrike lovers just to created a void,
Of days lived many times over and lone nights...

Lopsided spectrum...

I saw the hollow of my soul,
Just when I drifted apart from the ghost of my past,
My instincts sensed the emergence of change,
Hence it created a void,
Which seemed like an endless tunnel lit by the light of minute change..

We now must depart from the world created by the gods,
Enter a universe radically inverted,
Devoid of space and time,
Straight laced as change,
As harsh as the truth..

Your comrades shall rise and fall as seasons change,
Succumb to fate,
Lose themselves to life,
Get resurrected in the fire of ice,
Too frozen to relive the former companionship...

My principles have now been deformed and kept in the corner,
Wept the silent cries of change,
Slid back into the closet,
Changed its attire,
Painted a mask on its face...

It has deceived my comrades,
Too frozen to detect lies,
Too brittle to walk hand in hand with the truth,
They now see their soulless hollow,
Saw their departed soul bound, being disciplined away from the spotlight...

The scars of the past have now faded,
I now carry my vices as a cloak of experience,  
Empathetic to sinners in numerous dimensions,
Still choose to hide, though we're one,
Fighting its own reflections...

Islands...

We have now chosen to forget,
Urges that made our blood boil once upon a time,
In an island, surrounded by the sea of disguise,
Masked by the profuse bleeding of vessels that cut against the flow,
Silently washed away and awaiting revival...

Alas, the torch of love had ceased,
As we chose to forget unresolved anger,
As we generated hatred from unrequited love,
As we chose to alter the verdict from crimes of passion,
As long lost lovers communicated by the winds of vain...

Not dead but long forgotten,
As we chose to visit the ghosts of the pasts,
Now dancing around the maddening fire that our secrets had created,
Swirling around what once defined our world,
Surrounded by the darkness  of time that passed...

As we dreamed to escape land,
We drifted into the sea of clutter,
Uncluttered by rich stimuli,
The erotica of life occured,
Just as we were whiling away our time...

Dogs of war...

A spontaneous harmony of thoughts within thoughts,

The clash of times in a different era,

Culmination of the inversion of bliss,

No way to ease the surging tempest…

A remembrance in all its dying light,
Sought a memory before it became the past,
Colored by our minds greatest illusions,
Entered a prism, and then was deviated by misinterpretations...

Affection was a way of luring,
An explorer  in the maze of cruelty,
Cruelty bred by the deception of love,
By the hunger for flesh and the purity of blood..

The dogs which bore madness,
Once guarded the streets from demons,
Hovered in all its strength,
Killed by a moments weakness...

 

Noir...

As her knight fades into the night,
A thousand questions begin to unfurl,
Dressed in deceit and debauchery,
Masked in the promises of love...

Sensuality was one with his blood,
Sowed his seeds like fierce arrows,
Arrows aimed at an innocent woman's heart,
In all her love and virginal faith...

As primitive as the Earth,
She wanted to sense the fertile fire within him,
Caressing the land which bore the soil of insolence,
She started her expedition to the heart of the motherland...

The motherland that thrived within its own ruins,
The Motherland where life began,
The Motherland that saw deep destruction,
The Motherland that bore cold, loveless children...

She dug deep within the Motherlands soul,
Only to be left wounded, empty and shattered,
Then she headed back,
She never took the dark road, wound within its own mysteries.. 

Penury...

The poverty of the market place is evident,
When he masks his goddess of prosperity, 
Deceiving her enough to believe, 
That she will see only merry times ahead... 

She is kept in a position of pride,
Above the carpet that pacifies her from the grime that lies beneath.
Carrying the sensuality of a woman within her, 
Natures finest work of art, embodied in flesh and blood... 

Their boundaries seemed to be the grievance of his existence, 
Shot his swimmers just as they were about to ascend, 
Yet his passion quivers after two decades of brutal mockery, 
Submissive to his whim of preserving his virtue and vanity...

He saw sex, bosoms and lies, 
Not even the trinity of vices could lure him, 
Not alluring enough to suit his taste,
Not convenient enough to hide his lies...

Then they unearthed secrets lost in time, 
Those that spoke of thousands of years ahead,
Deranged years that oscillate within the benefit of doubt,
Reduced to a scenario of illusions...

For we can't seem to trade our hard earned fortune for the value of flesh, 
What's written in the stars is reduced to ashes, 
Superficial remorse from rags to riches and riches to rags,
Moments of elevation have now been misjudged...

He never fell pray to his inner demons, 
Though he fell pray to society's rigidity, 
Crafted by a despicable code of conduct,
He should have listened to the ghosts of the past instead...  

Classic Transperancy...

The sinister nights of war, 
When our regiment was equipped with artillery far from capable,
When our sense of well- being wept in agony,
Waiting to surrender to impending doom...

My fellow men begin to make peace with their gruesome destiny,
They begin to curse their inability to foresee, 
Every inch of their body accepting their vanquished controlled,
The subtle martyr has walked even further into the checkered shell...

We now wash our dirty lingerie,
In the muddy waters of solitude,
The residue speaks of grimy white lies,
Embodied with the spirit to rejuvenate the truth...

The infinitesimal transition withing limbo,
When we're suspended mid-air amidst other falling bodies,
Yet numerous turbulent times have gone by,
They now seem like events of another lifetime..

The persona which gloats is now silent with defeat,
Bonding with other mortals who bond with the end of an era,
The burden of trauma hovers within the pores of luck,
Harnessing the strength hidden within every catastrophic occurring...  

Unravaled to be left in shambles

The antagonistic foster siblings of escapism has never quite unveiled itself,

Claiming to be a part of the unconventional cosmos of appeal,

The futility of ridicule is a subtle legacy,

The unrequited vengeance of my identity...

The mojo of an Earthling is still mortal after all,

Borne with colloquial charm.

The surge of a fantasy,

Embroils and acquaints itself with strangers far from being strange...

The morbidity of a taboo,

Is known to evoke an unspoken desire,

Self mutilates a metaphysical possession,

Surges within but still lampooning its virtuousness...

The freedom of the mind,

Is now familiar with the trans-morphism of the world,

Still nurturing idiocracy,

With silence that provokes uncredited revolutionary thought...

Our words have now surpassed even the best of the connoisseurs,

Still acquainted with the naivety of former possession,

Possession that has now diverged,

But has still chosen a similar kind of groove...

The coquettish reveries,

Expects to acquaint with procrastination,

Unleashes the bonafide wrath,

With the arbitrary ambiguity...

 

The last laugh...

The martyrs have weaken their stance, 

Subconsciously intimidated by the days of only wounds ahead,

Only moments to go until the march to glory,

The provinces of gold had intoxicated  them to the point of the sleep of reclusion...

The breeds of higher order have now not a reason to opine,

They begin their day with the solace of futility,

Commence to a voice of bigotry,

Until a different kind of transition...

For letters written in blood,

Have been defeated by the words inscribed in bonds,

Seldom acquainted with the world of gossip,

Placidly waiting in the numerous post offices of decay...

The time had begun for the fancy air of romance,

I will gift you a kiss if you please,

Embodied with the spirit of youth and glamour,

Made to suit carnal whims and mundane woes...

I shall wait for the end of your crude fantasy,

Which shall be made to sleep upon my arrival,

Awakened when I am away,

Which shall continue to torment you as you twitch and turn in your grave,

But not for too long...

Let me feed you copper candy,

So very fierce and inedible,

Let me occupy your senses with the scent of my love,

Superficial enough to slip away...

No impact has been as great,

As great as my non- existent significant other,

Who took me back to the rustic air of childhood,

As I grew many steps away from naivety...

Very few roots of passion have traced back,

The rest have faded away with the night,

Trampled on with time,

Burdened by mortality,

Just to suit the flow to the last laugh...

Old Sparky...

You can't exert your will in no man's land,
When your only pursuit is survival,
Deranged poetic notes is a fight no one could withstand,
Death is no more an unholy rival.
When the fetish chamber contradicted the gruesome dungeon,
After all these generations you failed to pass an non stereotyped judgement...

Draped in a garish choice of words,
Lust fornicated the wrong town,
Your follies still mock your emptiness after all these years,
The walls of all bricks of good terms have been broken down.
Your threshold of pain has worn out by dusk,
A great deal of misfortune did not strike you only because you thought it must...

We're vexed with treachery,
Sick of damage,
Waiting for alchemy,
Formulated by the daily greats.
Bankruptcy has has fought the halo of no holy man,
Somewhere within the world of pain was an inkling of your own plan...

There has been no truce of that blatant kind of chaos,
A self thought angel to end their sufferings,
Wallowing has been know to mock the morrows ethos,
The exaggerated mystic pain that glamorises the starlings.
So though I feel demented it's actually because I'm dull,
For this is the very passage when the frolic does not swirl...

Let the impulses of love fill my heart,
Hormones of rational judgement be one with my bloodstream,
Let a normal state of mind vanquish any kind of shock,
A skit of black magic leave my dreams.
May the enzymes of good fortune rain upon us from paradise,
Punish them whose life was designed for a sacrilege union they wanted to jeopardise...

Wild berrries...

Lying in the mud,
an unknown colour,
an unknown flavour,
they were never discovered,
a few did try,
it was a lethal experience.

Never felt the love,
never tamed,
never named.

In the most remote corner,
in the most remote of places,
are extraordinary,
probably have ordinary faces.

The fruit,
the essence,
no one tried to extract,
it was just made for this track.

The living souls,
the un-living beings,
these types are wild,
these types are lethal,
they are the wild berries.

Picture from the net - ( http://www.writingupastorm.com/.a/6a01156fd16a08970c0120a5d5a139970b-800wi )