Valediction ...

The silhouettes of window panes
beckons the neon street lights,
The cacophony of noises outside
takes me back a long time
My city looks old today, etched …
in the annals of memories scatted.

Two men walking down warily
two men follow them wearily,
I look at the crowd behind the bar
congregating the shadows surround,
My city remembers me fondly ….
in the annals of weathered mortality.

The rains and thunder mapping galleries
hovering winds playing facetiously,
The lighthouse of the Peak distantly looks on
over my neighbourhood lying discordant,
My city enraptured in overwhelming ecstasy
in the annals of countless unfulfilled fantasy.

Bidding me farewell in the ostensive night
remembers me for my unforgettable romance,
Looks on through those fashion laden stores
walks on those innovated modern roads,
My city awaits dawn beyond the shadow of stars
in the annals of joy, culminating boulevard sapphire.

The first fall ....

We used to pretend
on every pretense ….
used to … of usual suspects ….
Through the wicker rocker roads
traveled … balanced ….
svelte miles ….
Before long …. we fell …
we fell badly along,
When realization of clouds
struck thunder benign
dignified silence preceded aligned,
In the driblet of feel …
enticed ... we held our breath
proceeded further …. a step a time,
Now waiting …..
oh! so long ….
unbearable silence
annihilating mind ….
No pretext required non so pretense
Lets shout once
Let it resonate
Let it hear ...
beyond those hills that lay …
at every corner around
Let it echo …..
Let it echo ….
with our solemn vows ...
harmonised today ...

Jurist ....

On a journey beyond and within ...
I need no backstay to cling,
On a sheath of bone … each single bone,
Science in nature has structured .....
Pride reflecting in subphylum stone.

Today ...

He himself will hold scrupulous doubts,
In his surety will reflect scruple calm ...
Will hold my head high, when he
Questions, inquires and judge …. yet again
Reflect on my intent, … whose propriety
I never question, .... let him … if he so intends.

Unfulfilled ......

I could almost sense, your
scent wafting through my room ...
In strive to slake my thirst
of noon, I sauntered through
unsuspected silence of the gloom.

I am almost always benumbed
of sensations and your touch ......
I summoned once to your presence
in my ever lasting naivety …..
a thousand roses .... with thorns.

The broken rainbow of milky opal
yearns for coeval pearly moonlit night ....
As I look out of my window today,
alas! I realise, unlike the red gold of a
sunstone, I always .... had failed to shine.

Feudalistic fate ...

thousand scenes of pillages
lay fallen, secured
in the hands of
marauding band ….

in the mirage of his
prospective dream,
the farmer hoes his field ….
in brandish glare of the sun.

Recoinage ....

I
With impudence I lived
always like a famished man, for
lashings of liquor, were routinely
emulsified in compulsive time, but …
with a hatchet in their words succinct
they acted as my tireless prohibitionists.

II
Experience does have a pseudonym in time
it passes on in the memories enshrined,
they have been telling me
the selections needed a change,
for everything that they could pass on
had long ago, been successfully ensconced.

I now have a few selections more
for I did finally change …
I changed my bookcase old.

Yearning ....

a single branch of hawthorn
gropes across the bushes ...
scouring for the miniate
summer sky above,

my eyes looked on indecently

awakened in the emblazoned pond
was a lonesome yellow lily .....
indiscreetly floating around.

Sinned .......

I
Disorganised confetti covers the floors, turgid voices
runs with the equine speed, distances are covered
in memories and leaps with serpentine ease,
my mind serves its purpose understood, and
keeps the silence in its anacoluthon speech.

My intentions lay willingly obtuse,
undiscerning in the neon light ….
numinous structures formed and dissolved,
coloured by discriminated opinions
of a mirror, with connoisseur’s eyes.

II
The voices grates inside my mind,
what logic applies to soul, when
heart has it own path, parallel in might
but, it seldom listens and always cries
irrespective of pleasures or sadness derived.

Inner shame has no audience to understand
serves the purpose of an obloquy for a lifetime,
in the illegitimate scuffle of two sounds
I tried a couple of times, but rather failed, as if destined ...
as if burdened by my own libel, therein assigned.

III

I must hasten to collect the pieces that lie, assemble
them one-by- one, and repent if I must, to survive,
seeking forgiveness is a foregone conclusion, but I have to try ....
if required for the umpteenth time, for tugged in the summer sheath
is my absolute sin and the carcass of my conscience, that hath died.

Breaking free ...

I
Unrestricted winds blew carelessly
unbarred, over his frivolous illusions,
demanding no space, giving none
ever so unaware, though he wanted some.

His eyes looked far, somewhere
for sustenance of his life, - solemn and wide
he looked on, beyond those visible nights.

II
Amidst carved clay of human conscience
diaphanous senses passed his perceptions,
clothed in black aura, he couldn't but realise
the impalpable irony of their evident mind.

Intellectual affections were always
far and between, a search unbothered
for someone had been there, before him.

Un-ornamenting allures of intonations, drew
him ever so precisely without intention,
draped in dusty chambers were sown
mollusk fossils of all his insinuations.

III
He had always lamented, ever more so now,
at structures that gave shapes, are now dying
for definitions that were always in place.

The felony of facts he had always thought
were imbibed in theology craving for naught,
his search was never edifying rationality
for in every reason’s structure, was a sense of morbidity.

In the far crevices of his brain, lurking somewhere
was the dark, welcomed always as unspecified, unhindered rains,
by barren lands turned into graves, by the sun’s unrelenting rage.

He shrugged his attired wishes, casually as ever
for he had always known, he had to accept it someday,
the reprehensible corners of his imaginations, will never
yearn for form, which will always remain, abstracted.

For You ....

I am the ambiguous twilight of the morning sun,
You are the personified glory of the scarlet dawn;

I am the onerous frustration of a sinned life,
You are the torch of solace, condoning my crimes;

I am the invertebrate demeanor of an inconclusive mind,
You are the cognition, evolved through the nemesis of time;

I am the reasons behind the up-roared nonsensical twaddle each time,
Your are the sense and significance behind reasons defined;

I am the recoiled torpor, amidst constant tiredness revived,
You are the blessing of concurrent inspiration to survive;

I am the uninitiated, unspoken silence of the night,
You are the grammar of my speech ever so refined;

I am the dead, buried in soil, waiting for my judgment denied,
You are the epitaph, commemorating my reasons for existence sufficed;

It hasn’t been always, that I had told you enough, but I hope you know,
You brought meaning to my life, long before it could be proclaimed sine die.