Should wedding bells chime in a dream you have, I pray the man,   miming affection     near the altar is not me. I am ragamuffin; a butcher with no cleaver     in his shadow,
instead a bouquet: Clenched in my silhouetted hand flowers turn into torch. I burn     as a filament in a bulb half-expired. I have smoked through my pocket money    in order
to scatter cremated angels from my throat.    I am cloaked by anguish      my grief    poorly sheathed   a tattered nerve. I have only learned        how to praise darkness.

Light is painful as it shimmers against frost: grass gleams in steady growth    discolored
scars healing. Here I am letting out a blood-letter addressed to you, wondering    if I send   a snip     of my own vein will it remind you how     one missing piece    from a whole            can forfeit the future. All any future is:      a motion into the next moment,  its pending indecision none can envision.      We can’t help but revise malleable pasts. Memories flux     rippling water and enough light changes it’s refraction with each new  ripple.        I cannot be a lover if love is not static    humming at least from its hymnal.  

I   write this letter in calligraphy mourning,    like most poets do – rending heart  rendering  this broken universe – with bone and feathered quill. This feather is from my wing, the pair fallible love clipped         the first chance you took to kiss my darkness.

I’m charting learning a path to winter in an opposite sky:
one only I can fly.

Have you ever wrote with a wrecked pen and shed all the smudge

Have you ever played a guitar with broken strings and bled your fingers

Have you ever tried to burn the moist leaves and got eyes insanely blind

Have you ever screamed so hard and got your throat smitten

Have you ever seen something so vicious and scarred your memory

Have you ever pondered of something so bad and lost wiring in your head

Have you ever hated someone so badly and ended up loving immensely

Have you ever been favoured by ethanol and temporarily erased her for a night

Have you ever left a flock in order to find the lost one

Have you ever let her go finally realising the sweet truth



Well!!! I have done it all to the brim and then a voice spoke deep within

The darkest nights have some stars too

There are the left,scorned and abandoned flock too

If not, the darkest night will have a shiny morning too

My maps are built
in the palms of my calloused hands
but I wouldn't know
to read them
because my eyes
have only learned to built
constellations of contorted stars.
As though blinking with a diminutive heartbeat.
The sky has a thousand hearts.
And he's almost alive,
he has known no edge to fall over,
no chasm to drown into.
And he wouldn't know when he shatters
because he's too old
to hold up on his brittle limbs.
He is beautiful,
born out of the blue every morning,
dying every night all over and
over and over.
When he's tired,
he cries and he screams
and he falls apart,
but we were taught
to call the rain nothing else than beautiful.
We were taught to draw away
from the thunderstorms and lightning,
because the sky is angry, they told us,
the sky will hurt you,
they said.
But who would know?
Who would know his agony?
Who would they ever know
how I survived this fall?

Sad eyed men, inebriated by pain, unshaven
eyes swollen, red faced, sleepless at night
loneliness perpetual  haunting them like
the ghosts of days dead, in single minded pursuit
perturbed by pains of every imaginable kind
in a devine trance one with dark frightening silence
pouring out their heart in blood dripping details,
tears mingle with words' firepower,molten lava gushes

A fiery woman, though,weak,meek and looks frail,
writes in a fierce frenzy,as if it's her life or death game
there are nail marks all over her emaciated body
as if a famished tiger has badly mauled her.
No trainer of beasts she ever was....
All the living witnesses, her suffering,festering wounds,
a derailed mind,her companion,once in insane anger gifted!

See weeping woman,men in anguish
in the fear of losing long cherished love,  
poring out the lava of fear,anguish and pain,
Wounded men and women with an orchestral precision
write seeking happiness,but in words couched in pain.
And then there is this one;eyes fixed at the  moon,
getting his fix for the day and the fuel for poetic pen!

All of them poets were in a world each of their own.
"Not sane or insane,wildly ecstatic, still in inescapable pain"
the caresses of poetry's fingers result in that,
And look those children running after butterflies!
poems, they would be thinking are colorful wings and feathers.
song,dance,mirth and celebration, alas! it isn't!

My memories deceive me, and my heart bleeds to thoughts of
      you, poisoned from the curse that runs deep within my veins.
      Do I halter and use the words that I can, to try with you,
      another chance?
    

      My memories deceive me, and my mind is headed to a paradox of
      life that doesn't bring happiness but only a subtle feeling
      of contentment. For in my memories you are with me in a
      final, never ending dance.
    

      My memories deceive me, as the bewildering cries from within
      awaken the soul that has been bound by chains created from
      the sins of my past life, and are made stronger by the sins
      of which are my own.
    

      My memories deceive me, as the rumors of your betrail fade
      into the shadows but the calling from our hearts reach into
      the light, violently, yet no sound have they shown.
    

      My memories deceive me, trying to hold them back, all that
      accomplishes is bringing you into my senses once again, but I
      go forth to a different land with what could have and should
      have been.
    

      My memories deceive me, chased by an altered state of mind
      where nothing has gone wrong, no death, no pain, just the
      feeling of contentment once again.
    

      My memories, they deceive me and everyone around me, for I do
      not see faces, only souls that fade into surroundings. A
      paralytic view is what they show, of what should have, could
      have been you and me.
    

      My memories deceive me, but could they instead be the truth
      that I have been seeking as I try hard to sink them in
      deeply...

      My memories. My memories, immortal as they come, they open my
      eyes, though they burn like facing the sun, in this time I
      have begun, to realize my memories. They do not deceive, but
      only conceive the past that I have forgotten and shields me
      from...you.

When the only thing you've ever known breaks in front of you,
When your heart is grieving, so full of love, it hurts, it shatters,
There is no one to fault, no one to put the blame, just raw emotion,
There are no words, just tears of pain and anguish, not a life has been lost

With manly aggravations he strums-

Strums the rust and the anguish away from the strings.

I saw them, floating away from him; vibrating in midair

Those compositions from his melancholy days,

Echoing...

The notes have, somehow, reverberated through my cathedral soul-

I can feel them.

I could still locate the ringing at the ceiling of my skull.

And if I wish to
I could even feel the faint tremors in my heart-

And realize it's actually pulsating...

But surely, it's just an after shock from the sounds resonating

It would fade away.

Of course it will just fade away.

It would fade away the moment he
stops playing.

O Lord, Abba Father,
Forsake me not,
Hear my anguished cry!
How long will i wait?
Before You...
See the crater
      That is my heart?
Feel its jagged
       edged agony?
Taste the bitter bile?

Engulfed in depression,
Drenched in
     the Gulf of Grief,
I stare at the
     Abyss of Hopelessness,
Contemplating
    a Chasm of Sorrow
              too wide to cross.
My sleeplessness witnesses
      Moonless nights,
          Starless skies.
Scorching morns,
        Rainless noons,
              Song less days.

Deafened by the clamour,
Prayers and Praise
     elude me,
Silhouettes of Hope
      seem distant.
Soothe away
      my heart scars,
Seal my bleeding wounds
Send away this void!
Fill me with the
Balm of Your Grace,
Kiss of Your Mercy,
Gift of Your Peace,
Ecstasy of
       Your Presence!
Touch me!
Heal me!
Make me whole!

I'm floating in amnesia
I can't remember
the last time I took a breath.
I'm emptying my eyes
through these tears,
until they're hollow —
so hollow that you wouldn't know
that vacancy could ever feel so full;
so full of emptiness.
This ever growing mayhem
cannot be contained
within my brittle body.
My scars might break open
the next moment.
I'm not very sure if I know
where they came from.
I know I'm afraid —
I'm so afraid of letting them see
the void I carry within.
I can't let them see
that my lungs
are pale sheets of broken muscle,
my heart is a shattered mirror,
scattered and buried
in the seemingly bottomless black
of my broken body.
Sometimes I remember my memories,
the screams and the nightmares and —
you.
I see you through veiled fences,
laughing with crinkled eyes
shining in a new shade of blue;
glowing with another
bittersweet betrayal leaking out
in your unshed tears.
You hold my hand
when I'm about to fall into chasm,
your precarious grip faltering,
your careless eyes vivid
and abyss-deep.
And you remember to let go.
I remember you let go,
and turned away
and I know your strength
because you never looked back.
I know the skyless ocean
is your home because I've bee there,
floating in something
I can't quiet remember anymore.
But you tell me it's amnesia
and I can't remember your name,
I can't remember
to remember something
— someone who can have
the precise blue of your old old
old eyes,
almost as though
they're too young
but I can't remember the difference
between old and young
but you seem so young and so old and —
so beautifully, delicately human.
I can't remember you letting go,
it's as though I'm insane and I am.
I am insane but why do you tell me I'm not?
My delusions are wilder,
they make me see me if you let go.
But please, please don't let go.
I'm not weak and pathetic
and I promise to forget you
(because it's the only thing I'm good at)
but will you never go?