deepundergroundpoetry.com
The donkey and the Empress
Asocial being
on social networking-
1. Vague
2. Hollow
3. Distant
with myriad scope
stumbled upon a face
angelic
telling
approached with apprehension
despite being a seasoned player
of psychology and eulogy
She talked
he spoke
he was the writer,
she was the subject
a-guinea-pig
distant
lovely
Sitting in her sprawling expanse
of expensive concrete, she blinked
while he sat on his throne
bought from a non-descript smuggler
at a profitable bargain
Two worlds
Two words
She picked and questioned
Two words gave birth to
a million more
Being a veteran player/
a habitual drifter/
a pseudo romantic
he acted like usual
She got carried away
(or maybe he did)
She smiled
and laughed
300 texts
and then she called him
(The electromagnetic signal
in between cellular phones
conveying the hope and urgency)
after he called her
Awkward silence
and euphoria
and then
1. Words tumbled
2. The joy knew no bounds
3. Tears flowed
4. Secrets were unraveled
5. Hearts were opened
6. Emotions poured
The clock ticked away
harmonized
ethereal
eternal
He was happy
She seemed happy
But the truth that floated above
them-drunk in bliss-screamed
The perfect life is never perfect
May be it was too loud
for them, to hear
and then they did
d
r
i
f
t
The discovery-
painful it was
And they told themselves-
Us-totally-wrong-for-each-other
The bitterness-
1. ate
2. corroded
3. maimed
She kept on drifting
Was she ever really there
in the first place?
Who will answer
and who will question
and why
Soul asylum is dark
and his soul is trapped
as she drifts beyond
the event horizon
sucked into the pulsar
of life-perfect and waiting
The idea of which
he could not understand
the prices being the variant
quoted on a square feet of concrete
that reflected so much
in the psyche
Is she gone
Is she here
Where
The deafness of silence
The darkness of brightness
Coexisting melancholy
with chemical euphoria
Life
Love
or the absence of both
Fulfilling emptiness.
on social networking-
1. Vague
2. Hollow
3. Distant
with myriad scope
stumbled upon a face
angelic
telling
approached with apprehension
despite being a seasoned player
of psychology and eulogy
She talked
he spoke
he was the writer,
she was the subject
a-guinea-pig
distant
lovely
Sitting in her sprawling expanse
of expensive concrete, she blinked
while he sat on his throne
bought from a non-descript smuggler
at a profitable bargain
Two worlds
Two words
She picked and questioned
Two words gave birth to
a million more
Being a veteran player/
a habitual drifter/
a pseudo romantic
he acted like usual
She got carried away
(or maybe he did)
She smiled
and laughed
300 texts
and then she called him
(The electromagnetic signal
in between cellular phones
conveying the hope and urgency)
after he called her
Awkward silence
and euphoria
and then
1. Words tumbled
2. The joy knew no bounds
3. Tears flowed
4. Secrets were unraveled
5. Hearts were opened
6. Emotions poured
The clock ticked away
harmonized
ethereal
eternal
He was happy
She seemed happy
But the truth that floated above
them-drunk in bliss-screamed
The perfect life is never perfect
May be it was too loud
for them, to hear
and then they did
d
r
i
f
t
The discovery-
painful it was
And they told themselves-
Us-totally-wrong-for-each-other
The bitterness-
1. ate
2. corroded
3. maimed
She kept on drifting
Was she ever really there
in the first place?
Who will answer
and who will question
and why
Soul asylum is dark
and his soul is trapped
as she drifts beyond
the event horizon
sucked into the pulsar
of life-perfect and waiting
The idea of which
he could not understand
the prices being the variant
quoted on a square feet of concrete
that reflected so much
in the psyche
Is she gone
Is she here
Where
The deafness of silence
The darkness of brightness
Coexisting melancholy
with chemical euphoria
Life
Love
or the absence of both
Fulfilling emptiness.
Published 1st Dec 2011
| Edited 23rd Jan 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 0
comments 2
reads 731
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
1st Dec 2011 11:33pm
again, naturally. As you have often spoken of, dear Sumeet, alone-ness for want of a better word, is our lot in life. Come we alone, go us alone...my people would say.
Good words, Pyaara.
Good words, Pyaara.
2nd Dec 2011 10:02pm
Grace,
'Alone again naturally'.
I have not heard it in
ages. You reminded me.:)
Yes, here also we say that
a lot.
We come alone, crying
while they stand,
overjoyed.
Live and dream in a way
when you go smiling,
a few stand and shed tears.
Thank you for the lovely comment.
Pyaara
'Alone again naturally'.
I have not heard it in
ages. You reminded me.:)
Yes, here also we say that
a lot.
We come alone, crying
while they stand,
overjoyed.
Live and dream in a way
when you go smiling,
a few stand and shed tears.
Thank you for the lovely comment.
Pyaara
