Innocuously unconscious...

The morning light was not enough to enlighten her,
The day the elements of my dream died,
Wearing a dead shroud of indifference over their tattered bodies and crushed spirits,
Using their newly acquired air of individuality to stop the infection from spreading...

There were days she used to bleed for them,
There were days she made a new world of stories with her tears,
There were days she questioned their unity and separation,
Now those days have broken with the break of my dreams and wake of my lids...

The lovers, with their deeper lust and intense attachment,
Feared as their fatal attraction ceased into a pitch black void,
The companions, who bore the other half of the dead souls and beautiful bonds,
Watched as once merry monotony was now a far fetched memory,
The nurturers with their fusion of life, care and separation,
Now watch as their creation enter another world...

She watched from another dimension of the skies,
Mourned in her sleep,
As she woke her tears were bone dry,
Psyched by the heavenly icy cold cold lullabies...

They waited for time to turn just so that they could reach out to her,
They showed her sights, sounds and seasons from her childhood,
A couple of decades ago but long lost in altered perception,
Even tried moments of breaking her into the past that never was,,,

She now ceased to believe that they were living beings imbibed with emotion and ambition,
More so mere characters in her dreams,
Bold and beautiful as well as dark and grimy,
Mere puppets of her unconscious side of the coin,
Who watched as she died many deaths,
Who wilted away as she was reborn with numerous lives...      

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...  

The midnight oil...

We walked amazed by haze,
Ready to win the battle we formerly lost,
Now as I unravel the real warrior,
The lie begins to show...

A pure mockery,
Harmony embraces acceptance,
Now lets cajole rigidity with intoxicating words,
I hereby unite with another gruesome story...

Is the flare hidden,
Or do we fail to glow?
But I assure you shall be illuminated,
After you clean the surface...

Now as the secrets are revealed,
We speak the unspoken ,
We burst the bubbles of our virtues,
Now the spirits have woken...

Now let your mind project,
The illusions of the burnt midnight oil,
The mirror shall always be a reflection of your horse-shoe smile,
Stirring of vacant laughter rings scornful bells...

For in a decade we thaw this frozen seduction,
You shall then hear the bustle of this sirens stilettos,
You shall feel the passion of her Aphrodian dreams,
So oblivious of that little slip...

For its just one right of passage,
That shields you from brutal crossroads,
So we can mock the shadows of loss,
Welcome the ghosts of a dead dream into the chambers of denial...

A numb veil,
Shall accompany me to the furnace of my identity,
Waiting to tantalise me to a different time,
There goes the otherwise tempestuous focus....

( Painting by Edward Munch)

The drift...

For all the hermits in the world,
Do you whirl in peace or penury ?
While I seek to know if you exist,
Of each strand of your hair that unites to create your soulful existence,
Of your illicit pain...
You're all a part of my ilk when we're on the same path,
When your heart is idle in the monastery of your mind,
In an idyll painting,
For you can't be too obdurate while avoiding the drift...

Inertia....

There is a place higher than the peak of the highest mountain,
Where you have hidden beauty,
When amidst a boundary you can't run,
Beauty exists everywhere it's just something you've got to see....

Face your target,
Get a contended pose,
For being a dreamer you're always going to be hit,
Is that why you favour dreaming with you doors closed?

A wicked smirk,
A masked judgement,
Dressed with obnoxious words,
Dreams broken into fragments...

There will be a time you'll cast your wits,
A quest has to be hand in hand with strength,
Why is a path aspired to be followed spectated by sceptics,
These obstacles fate has sent...

Your mind has been gifted with expressive mass,
Your body has been gifted with blood,
Your blood has been gifted with a heart,
You walk to see if you've been gifted with blissful luck....

Luck's a bitch when you believe it to be,
The sceptics are meant to be gagged with your ears,
Those wicked judgements can make you search fissures to find your dreams,
A challenge leaves you to accept your fears....

As you are accelerated along a whirling path,
Driven to the mysterious by a kaleidoscope,
The arcane tends to await your heart,
Your path will acquaint with gyroscopic inertia...

Your destiny depends on the momentum of your dreams,
Can the sceptics displace your inertia?
You'll have to be stronger than steel,
The last card is sweet euphoria...

Picture from the net- ( 4urpets.blogspot.com )

Steam...

A wisp of smoke in the starry night sky,
The shimmer of golden locks,
The curved surface where the focus of beams of light could never die,
The glint of bronze....

The stirring of water in a silver pail,
Where earth is met with the reflection of paprdise,
The glow of the sky's vain,
An effect of lost poise...

Boiling water converted to white steam,
A dormant body incarnated,
The image of a hazy dream,
Traces of lost dreams are awaited...

As you follow the footsteps of glory,
As you try to find the mystery of lost treasure,
You have followed the footsteps and created a story,
You have found deceiving pleasure...

Drops of sapphires were kept in mundane steel,
Lust was found in a mundane place,
Lust had sunk under the oceans of melodies,
You never kissed the face of fate...

You fell in the feet of luck,
You rose from the ground,
You left the fertile mud,
You just did yourself proud...

Ascended like vapor,
Sat on a deceptive throne,
Your prayer was answered,
Where do you call home?

As you sharpen your charcoal,
To engrave words on glowing stars,
Words that protrude from your soul,
The pleasure of power...

The longevity of a nebulous dream,
The illusion of lost proportion,
Lost thoughts being set free,
The sweet magic potion...

Picture from the net ( modernartimages.com )

Fertile dreams...

I feel my casket teemed with hope,
A holy augury,
Hope is better than all gem stones,
Hope is the most holy.

My feet in contact with the wet mud,
The rise of fertility,
My arms caressed by the dusk,
Souls in the state of lucidity.

The sky is my shield,
The sun is my lover,
The trees welcome me,
Aren't they the best cover?

Hope can be shattered,
But today I have my shield,
It's strength that will ultimately matter,
Can I maintain my fertile dreams?

Hope ain't dry,
Hope is a ripe fruit,
Hope makes the sky,
Hope is the distinct moon.

Picture from the net- ( centralbasin.org )