360

The journey to the disillusioned centre,

Framelessly circling in that narrow drain,

Encircling the dilemma of the strange ,

Push it deep inside of your brain.

I cannot stop them to be around you,

It’s you that sets them free,

Why don’t we realise it’s only you,

The clouds and the churches, white and solid yet so empty,

Don’t force love out of your creed.

Remembrance , of you, of your thoughts,

Calling those old memories out and those moments we caught,

Resting in your eyes, hope the picture is mine,

Because I am the soul, my heart carries the image of you every time,

Dimly the flames bleed away,

Things carve out on that stone like a blaze,

Forget me, don’t punish, love is not gone, it’s just a phase,

Behave not like I was just another of yours doubtful craze.

Gush out, move out, just don’t freeze on me,

Active my imaginations for your passive thoughts,

Break in to the puzzles apart, disperse in the storm,

Explode into the darkness, and let me go home,

I am not a miser, It’s I don’t know how to control.

Professional Lust

From the first drop of the hot shower,

To the last sip of the wine,

She feels the senses in her body,

Chilling, running down the spine.

She runs down the hallway, wraps him in her arms,

They plunge in the darkness of their fire,

The divine kiss, spreads their wings,

Burnt every ounce of energy in the body, they breathe back.

Morning, and she wakes up alone,

Looks up, everywhere, only to find her clothes thrown,

Snorts up her last stuff,

And another day passes, waiting for another one to come.

Sinner Man

Sinner Man

Rush of the blood down the pipe,

Burns the guts of that sinned insane,

Smoked the full pot of weed,

The smokes reached his nose drain,

Dissolved every part of his flexible brain.

Star gazing, moon raking, heavens asking and eyes fixing,

Fixing his glares to those burning flares,

Which reach the fluids in his brains?

Stimulus shot and ran through the nerves and he couldn’t refrain,

Nice feeling hit his forehead his temple, sweet emotion.

Rinsed in his sweat, panic, shock stricken overdosed,

Drowned in his own piss, was a stage he couldn’t face his eyes,

Walked a long mile just to breathe,

High, stoned could see everyone around him bleed,

Scary trip,took him deep in that never ending long lasting abyss.

“It is not necessary how much you get high,

What is necessary is that if you get high or not?”

Black Magic

Frozen, fallen from that iceberg
he slipped into the cold blue river,
entering the deep abyss of that mystery,
was the never ending road that lead to the black glory.

He could hear the wolves howling out to the moon,
there weren't no witches around with their old brooms,
it was just the old man watching and sitting ,
with his eyes ever up rolled.

The match sticks were oil slicked,
their lustre was marked with the sparks of past,
and so were lost the silver lining moments,
filled with hollow dignity of that old man.

That old road he followed from a long time,
rusted and burned out that path led to nowhere,
several voices in his head lead him to the days,
days that were filled with the black magic of the woman.

Shifting, riveting and adjusting he mended his ways finally,
people called him a lunatic, but he only knew,
knew that this highway lead him to the antidote,
antidote, erased his longingness towards that magical blackness.............


"People say that love hurts...
love is just a delusional part of their character,
what hurts is their inability to love someone."
-Mohan(21/01/2011)