People clap their hands and await

For your lithe figure claim center stage.

I watched the lights caressed your face

As sure as darkness embraced mine.

Tell me how you find me at your core,

I’m drenched in amazement in a  state so pure.

Imagination melts in your feather voice

As reality congeals in your liquid stare

Out in the sea of faces drinking your grace,

They knew their way to me like loud murmurs.

You are Temptation incarnate holding that guitar,

Where my fire lit dreams are reborn.

You fondle those delicate strings

Like how lovers stroke a beloved’s hair.

You spoke of bashful sadness,

But your melody is a sweet whisper.

Did you steal the sad poetries I wrote,

And hid them in this joyful song?

Perhaps you noticed the cords of loneliness

I wear like embellishments around my neck.

You took some strands from them

And attached to that guitar of yours.

How you command happy chords from them,

Is the mystery to unravel in this music.

But every song got a destined last note

And sadly the answers escape with it.

All the more when you conclude this performance

With a furtive smile and a lingering gaze.

Is it fleeting fancy to play that melody again?

Or hear you sing those lines of endearment?

Never been to such place

Where agony and repose are entwined,

And time is both brief and eternal.

But are you as brave, out of that stage,

To draw out your fragile heart?

I already mastered the loveliness of pain,

So please teach me the beauty of joy.

Should be dead by now,

These thoughts

Shamed by the harsh light of the day.

But even the night is no haven,

For as I hide

There in the necropolis

of my broken dreams,

Your specter beckons

And impregnates me-

verse of gloom  given birth,

ghostly beat resurrected.

This bed should be the grave.

But even sleep you own-

Your name engraved

On the epitaph.

Reverie you claim-

Your story is the dismal chanting

on every corner.

And rising in the morning

Is like of a starved vampire.

No satiety is found,

For everyone walks now

Under the daylight

With cold hearts,

Including you.

Naughty imps on their eyes,

Cruel devils on their heads,

Cunning wizards on their lips.

Their violence I feel,

Harboring on silence.

World is a big necropolis,

In the guise of a glinting metropolis.

I wish to mourn,

Shed more tears,

But redemption never comes

To this warm heart

Molded it self to be filled by you.

For the way to the fire

It sought but never had,

Is bound down, down and down.

Devouring it like a quicksand

But never grants death nor life.

If time comes

That it turn to snowy pulse

Like those of the dead of the day,

Will your tears and the roses

Finally be offered mine?

You stood there,

On the cigarette smoke

Searching for

That distant fairy

You had and lost.

I sat here,

On the smoke of coffee

Reading the

Secretive warlock

That is you.

Entities of fairyland,

They stole your heart

And returned it to you shattered.

On empty wine you bottled up

The tears I traced in your eyes.

At all dimensions you conjure me,

Messages dressed on odd semantics,

So my heart sheds red river

Channeled through this pen, dried to dark blue

By the icy air around us- I lettered the thoughts.

Your bottled tears,

My lettered thoughts,

The potent spell

Binding us to this torment,

Let’s break it for once.

Nicotine on your lips,

Caffeine on mine,

Let’s speak the words of humans.

Abandon our depths and mysteries,

Demystify the things between.

Break the hush
Son of moon,
Lover of sun eternal.
Have you lost your cloth
When the night fell?                   
You let it be stolen
And the earth grieves
For what you has and had.

You finally dug the sunshine
From the heap of ancient rain.
But why does the sky weep again?
Both inner and outer shade of yours
Are frozen gray photos of each day.

Screaming whispers say
You have known your nakedness
Like a childhood story rediscovered.
Brought emancipation on to your mind’s stretch
And an exile to the magnitude of your senses.
The void gave bleeding to awareness
And knowledge to a deeper need.

It was long been admitted,
You search every pieces of his broken mirror
To each face, to every tale and to each morning.
And at night you call the letters he owns
But no one came as you become a living decay
Where everything grows as his reminder.

You know that sun lives in an ephemeral sky
On the ground where your pain is felt.
But it only exists as eternal to a latent corner
Of your head where joy is kept.
But if you trace it back to earth,
It is some faded forgotten painting,
Yet, a deeply etched detail on the other side.