Beautiful stranger...

Beautiful stranger,
That touched my follies with a laugh,
This head got drunk with love,
The rise of a secret world,
Now broken into fragments...

For frolic is this minds lust,
The prodigies that differ,
Nugatory smiles that rouse suspicion,
Sways to a glance,
Builds a castle with dust...

Love...

A casket crafted by life,
Containing the stones of passion,
A passion so fine,
Its finesse can create sweet infatuation...

When you caress supple skin,
You many feel an impulse,
A sense of arousal so thick and thin,
That my friend, is a stimulus of love!

These may be mundane streets,
Gathering moss as they are a witness to rolling time,
But these streets allow you to be free,
These streets hold you down when you cry...

I dream of starlit winds,
Leading me to a road of an unbiased emotion,
To light a dormant torch with the flare of passion,
To open my eyes to a fresh notion...

These are the people of a united village,
Bonding to stand together to face notorious times,
They'll bond in times of rage,
But they'll forget to bond over a sip of fine wine...

The flare of this is so rapid,
Heals with touch,
Dilutes all sins,
This passionate love...

Love at first sight is a phenomenon not proven,
Lust is mocked by holy men,
In the battle of the holy and unholy the victory is uncertain,
That is why the world was molded as a blend...

Picture from the net- ( sanetruth.com )

The Era of the Bitches...

The colour of wood,
Usurped dreams,
The drift of evil and good,
The ability to foresee...

You see, I'm not evil,
I'm just a blend,
Who lives by her will,
Who has a lost cause to mend...

Golden attire,
An deception of intelligence,
Draped in fire,
Living in the illusion of a dreams presence...

I'll dally if I may,
I am driven by a fantasy,
Trying to possess you by my seductive ways,
Like you've possessed me by ecstasy...

To dance to sound,
To embrace the vibration,
To usurp the crown,
To celebrate my creation...

Although this vessel is an enormous sphere,
There are only a few who cherish what they've got,
There are only a few who acknowledge fear,
There are only a few who believe they do not rot.

As you live in your little shell,
A microscopic shell on the shores of this mighty sea,
I believe glory is where you shall dwell,
But what about me?

As I live in my dazed island,
In a quest to see light,
This is time where the cacophonic surrender to the silent,
May the shell and island unite!

The era has begun,
The aftermath ain't a fair game,
The bitches have come,
They shall seduce your vain...

The painter...

On that canvas she paints,
paintings of a thousand souls,
one canvas,
the painting gets even more mesmerising with each stroke.

Paints, blended colours,
she and her canvas,
they're lovers.

She paints in the sunshine and rain,
she paints remorse,
vain, glee and shame,
her paintings can't be limited,
nor can her soul.

Paint all day long,
your painting's your song.

Picture from the net - ( : www.oilpaintingshop.com/leighton/ )

Woman of spice.

A narrow lane,
a lane with not much vain.
As you enter that lane you'll find a corner,
a eccentric corner,
your eyes would burn,
you'll blink more.

Crush, mix and blend some,
put in in a bottle,
their savour isn't forgotten.

She loves what she does,
she spends hours,
she's a simple woman,
no lust,
her spices,
so many are the colour of rust,
the corner's alive but lies in the dust.

Simple woman,
locks tied behind,
Kohl lined eyes,
her face lightens when she smiles.

She's a woman of spices,
hours she spends with them,
savour,
the aromas,
the varied colours,
they blend and make love then create something new,
she's a magician on her own terms.
her conversation with her spices,
from them she has so much to learn.

To spice,
devoted is her life,
to them she's a loving wife,
she's a woman of spice,
this woman of spice,
spice is her life.