king of the hill

     
   

1.    
 offbeat rhapsodies in shades of b&w    
   
   
her tears roll down my back    
in archways of nonchalance    
that’s holding her, she    
wriggles directionless- a mess    
over a massive mess beneath    
in sobbed mumblings, hopes    
to be heard this time    
but    
the fuming summer at 40    
in a lethal cocktail    
with my    
hung over sleeplessness of ages    
deprives her of any chances    
kindles    
her little heart’s fury    
over the bed-side heated-up    
window sills- stammering    
in a butcher’s metallic bass  
mixed up in shrill glass strings, tossing    
my deafening fallenness    
into altitudes    
of nowhere… oh baby    
not again..had been lost    
time and again, not    
this time    
   
still knows the blank new pages    
that which is inserted by her    
disruptive notes    
had (en)lightened me beyond anything    
in flights of an unhidden glee    
but    
the glassine splinters of heart    
hooked in depths of a bled out    
mangled frame, crashes down    
this bruised bird in each rise    
   
   
2.    
amphibious existential crisis    
   
   
tormenting pyres, the pull    
and the push podium you    
have me in, silently wrestling    
your cyanic midnight holds    
   
it’s a mysterious alchemy    
of how you unfuckingly fuck me    
in the shredding in~out    
distant abrasiveness    
you maintain so nuanced, staring    
onto my daring depths    
in your invincible ways…I    
couldn’t help    
but    
remain in your engulfing radii    
in a still standstill    
this rigorous ritual you spell    
   
metamorphosing me...    
   
could hardly breathe in the freezing cramps  
and the sweeping in painbitten ascendance of your touch    
towards a drained off cranial flight  
 
eyes of widening fixations are paling blank screens
pulled up hair strands syringe skins in goosebumps
and that, your solidifying sun in the rise
trying to fit in my sudden budding abstractions
of a sunken vacuuming enormity    
   
   
enough is enough is enough, magic man    
   
frog-leapt yogic dimensions in deep dive    
transcends unto our collision    
   
hit-blooms in dews and fragrance    
of your eternal presence    
   
far yet so near    
   
the concept of ‘us’      
   
just the scent of your thought pollens    
swells an exuding crisis out of logjams    
   
   
   
 

 

Afraid you are not to say
A thing at all, just shy away.
Why so timid, mild and obedient,
I’m telling you not to be lenient.

Is our voice long lost, and taken,
something gone and now forsaken?
Rise up, say something, subjectively
at least to me, speak out objectively.

Rated R, or more as I fall, and reel;
I can’t believe all the people that don’t feel.
What is it that tells you to look away?
I only wish I could fix it here today.

This is why we all are dying;
you turn your back to leave me crying
in these exhausting and murderous days;
please, just stand up only to say:

A meek and lonely phrase,
is powerful enough to praise.
Others likely feel the same;
to say nothing is just a shame.