The dance

On dark, lurid formless nights,
Spectres play under lightless lights,
And raincast, lonesome mornings
That accost self-inflicted longings,
In them- my all is lost, and all is pain,
In days and nights, hopes are lost again.

There isn't a light piercing the dark,
And this alone is my truth, stark.
There isn't a silver lining on any cloud,
There isn't a single voice I hear in the crowd.
And this is where I stand, where I stay,
Where I wait for shadows to wilt away.

You won't see me, I'm a phantom call,
If in time, my presence will move you at all,
I'm the dim wilted aroma that rose today
When your muddy conscience, affection did spray.
I'm the voice hidden in windy talks,
Edging through trees, brushes and stalks.

I'm the clarity on a fogless night,
Clear dark, semi transparent in sight.
I'm the taper of the rains in May,
The eager dances of droplets gay.
I'm the one you seek, and never will find,
From now, I'm only a figment of your mind.



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Tribute

Pitch dark smoke rises
Against grey tide,

Our gathering awaits,
Broken; moist eyed.

 

I no longer inhabit me,
Cursed and weak;

No longer is my spirit
Contained in me, meek.

 

I’ve shed these clothes
I’ve donned too long;

I’ve quit this world,
I’ve sung my song.

 

The last breath, borrowed
Called you to me.

The last words for now
Were echoes of nee.

 

I can sleep hereon under
Earth’s blanket warm,

I’ve been silenced now;
A quieter, unruly storm.

…

Leave

 

Leave like the birds in the morn,
Fleeing to a sunnier vistas,
Leave like winters that pry into
Warmer, steadier climes.

Leave the home, you made mine;
Make it empty yet again,
Empty- akin the promises made,
Empty, like my emotions now.
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Random-1

 

And now awake in thoughts, I see
Explained - a lead heart and a light head,
For while the hours shall console me
Awake, by her, alone on my bed.

…

Inhale

 

 

I had forgotten the grey,
The dark of rising smoke-
Light form, dark nature.

I had forgotten the fire,
The blaze at the lit tip-
Smoldering, sputtering.

I had forgotten the warmth,
The coal pot ignited within-
Expansive, compressed.

I had forgotten headiness,
Losing oneself to find escape-
Evasive, uncertain.

I had forgotten the first rush,
The strong vapor burning-
Rising, dragging.

I had forgotten the feel,
The clasp between two fingers-
Textured, wilting.

I had forgotten the bow,
The head, accepting fire on lips-
Breathless, inhaling.

I had forgotten death,
The goodbye at the end of this-
Fiery, waiting.

But now I remember,
And now I accept,
And now I inhale
And exhale each breath.

…

So..

 

So...

What of the brewing and bubbling,
And brimming over of affections
That so clearly have you searing them
With fiery distance now?

What about the scars you hid all day;
The scars that were kissed, and
Only seemed to heal in touch,
Are hidden again now?

What about the tears you shed
Quietly, in the unseen corners
Through distraught corners of eyes
Wiped clear now?

What about the shared fragrance
That titillates in your absence,
Shamelessly obtuse to my pain,
Only more now?

What of the bottle of lotion white,
Resting restless upon my shelf,
In parting of your touch and smear;
Another lotion now?

What about the strands of hair
That pillows held back as memoirs,
Or taunts, that taunt in my sleep,
Additional now?

What about the books that lie
Dog-eared, bookmarked - idly,
In wait of fingers that folded them
To unfold now?

So...?

…

Gangster

It wasn't the cold bullet
That pierced my heart,
Or the fact that you shot it;
It wasn't the motive,
The madness or the mart,
Whence you'd once bought it.

Many a blood drop had I spilled,
To see you spill but none.
Many a mean soul had I killed,
If fate cruelly had some fun.

It was none of these I died from,
None had potency, quite none ;
If only I'd heard the wise, some,
If only you weren't the one

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