deepundergroundpoetry.com
Love: Part 2
The endless ocean
with tides only falling-
stones sinking-
stars reflected in
their twinkling abandon
An impressionist view
an image-a mirage
A momentary lapse
of reason-rationality
or the hide and seek of
saneness and insanity
Or the truth and dare
between your ex-flames
and unholy fiends
who don’t budge from your being
Conclusion/ Confusion
Scenic/Lucid
Lurid/Ambiguous
Love-
the wetness
the aroma
the orgasm in the backseat
that kiss which lasted an hour
the long night
Or the shredded cocktail dress
hard bites or harder gazes
the suicide note
or the empty Pack of Heroin
Love-
an overdose of serotonin
in the brain
a famished beast
feeding on the lust
of chocolaty flesh
Is it the sex
Is it the trips of making out
the gathering of used latex
in the dirty pot
The tongues stuck together
for eternity
The blurring lines of Byron
the chills down the spine
the missionary pose
the chants of Enigma
or the gasps of the climax
The slit wrist
the slain poet
the old rum bottle
the half-burnt note
Or the cursive feminine lines on it
the tantalizing cleavage
the life-sustaining breast
The question-the answer
with tides only falling-
stones sinking-
stars reflected in
their twinkling abandon
An impressionist view
an image-a mirage
A momentary lapse
of reason-rationality
or the hide and seek of
saneness and insanity
Or the truth and dare
between your ex-flames
and unholy fiends
who don’t budge from your being
Conclusion/ Confusion
Scenic/Lucid
Lurid/Ambiguous
Love-
the wetness
the aroma
the orgasm in the backseat
that kiss which lasted an hour
the long night
Or the shredded cocktail dress
hard bites or harder gazes
the suicide note
or the empty Pack of Heroin
Love-
an overdose of serotonin
in the brain
a famished beast
feeding on the lust
of chocolaty flesh
Is it the sex
Is it the trips of making out
the gathering of used latex
in the dirty pot
The tongues stuck together
for eternity
The blurring lines of Byron
the chills down the spine
the missionary pose
the chants of Enigma
or the gasps of the climax
The slit wrist
the slain poet
the old rum bottle
the half-burnt note
Or the cursive feminine lines on it
the tantalizing cleavage
the life-sustaining breast
The question-the answer
Published 12th Nov 2011
| Edited 26th Jan 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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just love...a pledge made at the other side of Forever, sometimes ending at the banks of Jamuna.
Pyaara.
Pyaara.
12th Nov 2011 5:44pm
Grace,
Again you say something
that echoes within me
far and wide and stirs
as I traverse in hypersleep
Smiling my scars of happiness
Hoping you would say something
Again, till then travel well.
Pyara.:)
Again you say something
that echoes within me
far and wide and stirs
as I traverse in hypersleep
Smiling my scars of happiness
Hoping you would say something
Again, till then travel well.
Pyara.:)
