Look Before You Love

Its more booful than the bestest flower
Sweeter than the sweetest sweet
Spreads fairer fragrance than the poshest perfume
And binds bonds better than any adhesive

It crafts creative geniuses from nowhere
And crass cacophony gives way to melody
The macho’s mean machine gives way to a pansy in its place
The bank balance too is not safe

Everywhere it’s a special face found
Somehow surroundings seem fresher than before
Perpetual emptiness leaves fulfillment
And joy drops from eyes as pearls

All conquering it drives conquerors to slaves
As self worth appears worthless
And suddenly a new dimension is discovered
To the geometry of life

Oh yes! I know this
For its my own life that its taken
So hark oh innocent victim
For all is not as it seems to be

Takes it more than it can ever give
Though joy it gives in giving
And responsibility it demands
For its someone else’s life you choose to keep

Sorrow stems too from it
More perennial than joy and worse
Wounds it leaves though beneath the surface
And its scratches are hard to heal

Play not oh denizen with this fire
For some plays can leave terrible impacts
And a burning desire if betrayed
May consume self and take you with it


But if play does you or someone with it
Remember reality’s just across the stage
And don’t let run away yourself
Into the quagmire of grief

Love

Like a thorn it enters
And secretes the joyous juice of bliss
The pain promptly vanishes
But the prick persists.

Blood runs hot and heavy
Veins swell up with it
But cork seals puncture
Traversing transient happiness

The minutest movement hurts;
And a stationary situation seems best, though to no avail.
Jerk jerks it out but jerked it is back in;
Blood sprouts out, then blocked;
But the puncture persists.

Open it is to one day
So i know, he says
but that day is far away...

Tomorrow, blood fills buckets.
Thorn vanishes, the puncture prominent remains.

No cork, no stopppage, pure flow
and flow it does.
So i knew, he says.
Yet sets off on a new ordeal,
search for new thorn.

It wont fit the hole,
but find it he must.
While the blood oozes.

No more thorn lasts long
yet more punctures appear
No more corks curb the tide
And the blood oozes.



Shivalik Hostel

The Loving Misdeed

I look at you, you look at me
Distances melt and time stands still
As hunger grows for your heart
Yet something forbids

You realize my starvation
And offer me the fruit
You disarm yourself
And stand in mock surrender

My weapon is ready
But I am hesitant to attack
You choose neither defence nor offence
For you do not understand the clash

For for you its worship
And an offering is all you make
But whether the deity accepts
You deem not yours to decide

Winds blow and blow and blow
The rain coms lashing down
There is thunder and lightning
But the sweet is not claimed

By now you are in pain
Maybe the offering wasn’t that good
And you fulfil my sweetest nightmare
As the flower is made ready to bear the fruit

When the storm blows over
The damage doe is seen
And the Gods themselves despair
For the loving misdeed

The Brick Wall

Why do swords always pierce my aromour
Why does steel turn to cloth within me
Why do my weapons melt and shatter
Why do my own devices betray me

Why does the balance never shift in my favour
Why do the fruits always get diseased
Why do my crops always fail
Why does the sun always go down when I want to make hay

I’ve had my share of cough syrup
And more by a few dozens
Will I ever taste the taste of honey
Or is my life going to be just a dreary desert

Let me too taste the strawberries
Let me feel the joy of a successful birth
Let me se my flowing fields
Don’t make my eyes accustomed to sad scenery

Or teach me the art of drinking down dregs
And learn me the ownership of sorrow and despair
For then may I smile if at naught
At least on the pathos of my worldly affair