Submissions by mmsiraj
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
things are not what they seem nor are they otherwise. I really don't know what I mean by that.
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
25th Feb 2015 9:19am
25th Feb 2015 9:19am
the mother of all dreams
when i was sixteen years old my father bought the american dream home for dinner. he was a regal looking gent in a tux with a warm smile and a glint in his eye. my father said that the american dream was his partner and he would be staying with us. after that life was never the same. my father’s business grew in leaps and bounds. soon he was running a business empire with offices in most parts of india and the gulf. we moved into a huge mansion with many servants around to do your every bidding. life was one big party. my mother took to wearing fancy designer clothes and speaking english. she...
813 reads
3 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
25th Feb 2015 9:06am
25th Feb 2015 9:06am
Choices
She had made her choice, he was all that she despised, the lies, the forced laughter, the empty words, he stood for all that was wrong with the world, she had no place in it, she didn’t want no part of it, what came after, it didn’t matter, her mind was made up, find the courage she did, the gun wasn’t that easy, he stole away all that she had, the ravages on the body she could take, but the hole in her soul could never be filled, the pen in her hand slipped and the song died on her lips, but the gun felt strong in her hands as she stood by the door, waiting, it was time to get even ,break...
663 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
25th Feb 2015 00:23am
25th Feb 2015 00:23am
coming to america
one summer day i packed my bags and rode a bus to a place that was pure fiction – the united states of america, with the fond hope of being a writer in a place where words have no meaning. like liberty, which is a statue there. there were only two people in the bus apart from the driver. a young girl in a wedding dress and a sufi who was quietly bleeding to death. the girl lifted up her dress as i passed by her and i saw with disinterest that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. the bus driver was an old bluesman i knew from way back. he used to play a mean guitar but too much whiskey and...
860 reads
1 Comment
EROTIC POEM
Published
25th Feb 2015 00:17am
25th Feb 2015 00:17am
Porn
Well greased piston precisely positioned with the head held close to the cylinder bore, throw the switch, piston slides back and forth within the cylinder chamber. The objective is to release the load into the cylinder chamber.
Do a dry run. Ensure that the constant friction exerted on the piston causes expansion and proper clearance provided by the cylinder head for free piston movement in the cylinder chamber.
Excessive clearance, on the other hand, based on the over use of the cylinder chamber, may cause compression and slippage of the piston. Unused chambers may cause high...
Do a dry run. Ensure that the constant friction exerted on the piston causes expansion and proper clearance provided by the cylinder head for free piston movement in the cylinder chamber.
Excessive clearance, on the other hand, based on the over use of the cylinder chamber, may cause compression and slippage of the piston. Unused chambers may cause high...
992 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Feb 2015 1:06pm
24th Feb 2015 1:06pm
the old bluesman
the old bluesman could have been robert johnson. but he wasn’t. he could have been son house or leadbelly or john lee hooker. he played a mean guitar and he said that he had given old slowhand guitar lessons. but he wasn’t howlin’ wolf either. he was just the old bluesman and that suited me fine. he was born and raised in the cotton fields back home in louisiana. when he was a little biddy baby his mama used to rock him in the cradle in them old cotton fields back home. but all that hard labor in the cotton fields broke his mama’s back and the good lord took her back to the great cotton...
676 reads
2 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
24th Feb 2015 12:39pm
24th Feb 2015 12:39pm
take this cross
take this cross, i said
a twist of the knife
in the wound
food for the dead
left out in the wind
a cross, like a rose
on your lover’s hair
a crown of thorns on my head
a cross, flaunt it
this time around
drive it thru’ my heart
like a stake
a cross, no pain, no gain
a runaway train
a cross, set with precious stones
for the pope in purple robes
a cross for the dying
a cross for the starving
a cross to stop my mouth
a clutter of crosses
in my begging bowl
a cross, stuff it.
a twist of the knife
in the wound
food for the dead
left out in the wind
a cross, like a rose
on your lover’s hair
a crown of thorns on my head
a cross, flaunt it
this time around
drive it thru’ my heart
like a stake
a cross, no pain, no gain
a runaway train
a cross, set with precious stones
for the pope in purple robes
a cross for the dying
a cross for the starving
a cross to stop my mouth
a clutter of crosses
in my begging bowl
a cross, stuff it.
569 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
24th Feb 2015 1:15am
24th Feb 2015 1:15am
love: variations 1
you have your being in a house of flesh and blood that looms large like a dream in the dark landscapes of my mind where the coyote calls and reckless phantom riders thunder through the night in pursuit of unicorns, whitman dreams and wild mescaline visions, a house like no other where nymphets frolic in enchanted gardens and troubadours sing of chivalry and the coming of spring, with all your latticed windows and passionate doors that lead to chambers cast in ethereal light on wine soaked nights with stolen kisses under heavenly stairways, but in the morning light your house crumbles to the...
602 reads
2 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
24th Feb 2015 1:12am
24th Feb 2015 1:12am
dubai
fool’s paradise, desert of the soul, empty headed emiratis, glitterati’s, drive around aimlessly around streets that go around in circles, mosques at every corner, you can only hear the call of the mall, the routine of mindless prayer, see that man in a white sheet, idiot grin pasted on his face, he has got a mobile stuck in his ear, a can of coke in his hand and a russian wench hanging on to his dick, see that man perched atop the high rise building, sweating his balls off, he just might slip and fall down and splatter the sidewalks with his bad intentions, see that housemaid working her...
861 reads
2 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
23rd Feb 2015 2:03pm
23rd Feb 2015 2:03pm
the god monologue
maybe mr.dawkins was right, maybe i don’t exist. maybe i am a figment of someone’s imagination, a collective delusion. of late, i have been losing it, i am not too sure anymore. there was a time of fire and brimstone, the wrath of god and such but memory fails, do you still do all those things in my name? i mean, rape and pillage, plucked tongues and lead down the throat, blood spilled on the streets, the cries of the children, the dead and the dying, planes flying, the lies and the tales of my power and glory as you stand washed in the blood of the lamb, or made bold and unyielding by...
667 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
23rd Feb 2015 1:55pm
23rd Feb 2015 1:55pm
Absinthe
It is an acquired taste, not for the squeamish, if you don’t have the balls for it, leave, be of strong will, so the surrender is so much sweeter, take it in slow sips, feel the tingling in your spine, there is something creeping up my leg, a vine, tulips, no my imagination is not that wilde, swirl it in your mouth, feel the drumbeat of your heart, let it burn your tongue, green fairies in the buff dance in the head to the tune of a different drummer, here the music of the spheres, give in, absinthe, it will be the death of me, can’t live without it.
591 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
23rd Feb 2015 4:54am
23rd Feb 2015 4:54am
for william boroughs
night after night, with the stillness of death,
dreams flashing on the screen of the mind,
rasping breath going of like minute bombs
thru’ the constant o of the mouth,
groping hands giving off carbonic fumes,
sculpturing odoriferous forms,
abstract eyes stacked on the face,
glowing with blue metal fires,
phallic obscenity of the nose
exploding with orgasmic bliss,
dream shuddering in white washed dawn light,
pneumatic body sucked of life,
tingling and pulsing with sex phantoms,
scalded dream flesh,
patched and doused with the...
dreams flashing on the screen of the mind,
rasping breath going of like minute bombs
thru’ the constant o of the mouth,
groping hands giving off carbonic fumes,
sculpturing odoriferous forms,
abstract eyes stacked on the face,
glowing with blue metal fires,
phallic obscenity of the nose
exploding with orgasmic bliss,
dream shuddering in white washed dawn light,
pneumatic body sucked of life,
tingling and pulsing with sex phantoms,
scalded dream flesh,
patched and doused with the...
599 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
23rd Feb 2015 4:49am
23rd Feb 2015 4:49am
remembering bukowski
there sits bukowski
frayed at the edges
well thumped
dog eared
tossed around
caressed
held up
with duct tape
among the hide bound
strait jacketed stiffs
crackling with indignation.
frayed at the edges
well thumped
dog eared
tossed around
caressed
held up
with duct tape
among the hide bound
strait jacketed stiffs
crackling with indignation.
#CharlesBukowski
#memorial
788 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by mmsiraj
