19 till I die

Ragestorms on my Mindscape My Mindscape, a living breathing land, grows and sprouts ideas and emotions. In a dynamic balance Between three fiefs One of Peace The other of Pleasure The third where Putrescence thrives. They grow, they shrink At each others' cost. Ideas are born and emotions emerge Ideas disperse and emotions are buried Lurking incessantly like phantoms, Their aggregate is seldom lost. They grow in Peace  And animate Pleasure They subsume, consume and thrive on each other. In this indelicate balance remains An unstable ecosystem of my Mindscape. In bouts of extroversion, I split the skies or let it rain Then shut it all, in dark, dank pain. Summer came by and beamed. Once balmy, then sultry With sensuous, sunny, warm rain And a rainbow shone above. Pleasure flourished With crops of joy, With harvests of stupor In a happy haze,  Gushed complacent gutters. So, Putrescence too made gains, Wai...

A Venom of a different strength In breaths of different strengths, Light as I felt when she smiled, Heavy as she smiled at another, Knowing each time, who it was. The cycle rolls over, and over. I inhale every time. The stench was of love, That rotted like a bright picked apple The one apple which felt special Not knowing how many lay beside it Not in a crate for memories But a casket to elsewhere. I have loved blossoms, Each one of them, Buds that bloom, And please many. There she was, stumped by the other That other, a connoisseur of nectar There she sat, full in bloom Waiting, glistening, oozing, Perfusing her aura with glee with a secret wish to wilt. Whole patches like that one, Luring everyone that passes, Taken only by an imagined perfection. Whole patches have wilted, And I, have watched. There she was, Almost bearing fruit Her fragrance was once touching There was solace in her feel The solace ...

Dear You, I hope you don't mind being the recipient of a long email. Sort of felt like writing something. :) I just recently went on nice road trip. I needed to get away from things. It's amazing what kind of a degenerate, self cannibalizing rut people get themselves into. I did for sure. But anyway, I found, like many others have, driving is a wonderful way of getting your mind off things. Literally, your mind needs to be on, the, road. Anything less and that you'll be smusch in no time. America is a good continent to drive. You drive and drive and drive all day and not see the same scene again. That again, is subjective. You could drive and drive and drive all day and still be in the middle of nowhere Texas where everything is flat and dry and just like Oklahoma... or Arkansas or New Mexico. :D But then again, it's enough to make you stop thinking of what you thought would happen. The only transition I saw was when between Missouri and Illinois. The rain helped....

Venom In that room, that big room That big room with light and breeze Where bright minds strutted,babbled and cackled With the grace of ibises And agility of hawks The beauty of peacocks And seductive persuation of Koels I sat, in the back and breathed it all. They could say,  What they already know. That we do not know That we don't know it all. In stead they're grandiose Like their sires and mentors Convinced their half truths,  Are magnificent edicts, Edicts of an imagined reality A truth we pretend to clasp. Just so that we can say to next man, It is now in my grasp, And still not yours to have. I breathed the stench of pettiness Of an ailing noble endeavour, Its spirit pickled in vanity. The stench of a macabre dance On the slime of ignorance The semi dirt of half knowledge In a rain of pretense, A fetid play of power, The violation of truth In an obscene mist of joy. I imagined it different, My n...

Who do I tell about the moon now?

Venu s Embittered by the Moon I sit by myself and mope Not feeling love again Sitting here with no hope. I wanted a smile and warmth. Venus gave me that and more Her warmth caressed me in stupefied sadness, In the isolation of being away from home, The abject loneliness of being alone. Venus knows she has it all Many a poet have noticed. The artists won't stop, The sculptors' jaws drop, Stargazers remain fixated. She pervaded my thoughts, Nearly seeped into my heart. That seared some scars, That have been opened before. The Moon was like that, Glowing over many skies Glinting in admirers' eyes Turning stony resolve to dust. My eyes had glinted My soul was splinted Until I could trust no more. Venus, I don't blame you You tried and tired Never getting the trust you desired  And shot right off my sky. You'll shine your rubor And sink men in stupo...