The dark hour

The girl who just grew up
they held her hand,
held her hand in scandal.
Nobody said a word
Shh...in this dark hour.

She laughed and smiled and dandled in joy
while his hands impelled,
her frown, Oh! the frown of the 5 year old.
Alas! the father never stopped
Shh...in this dark hour.

He threw the glass in inflame,
pulled her in with a warrant.
Smelling of stench revenge
he ravished his own woman
Shh...in this dark hour.

Then came the old woman,
her life sated
but the young blood lascivious,
not leaving no cow, no woman, no new, no old
Shh...in this dark hour.

And in this hour
no woman was left,
nor untouched neither unattended.
In this dark hour
black seemed the only light.

She was a mirage

Hopelessly entangled, she was a little disturbed inside. Often misled by those she loved and encouraged by the love less. She cared not of the not's in her life but she seeked acceptance universally. Her careless self beguiled her seldom, to be all gay and gallant of thoughts she did not wholly perceive, to smile incessantly and dwell miserably. Oh! but she had an enigmatical face to balk others, frustrate their wits leading to faults they all despised. She had a magical smile that bestowed her insolent wisdom over her sinless mistakes. She had courage that contradicted her endless laments. She was beautiful to look at but shed pain, pain they could not endure. So they stared and gazed and looked but never went close for she was wretched. To them she was a mirage. 

Parting Ways

They were ruined in their memories of togetherness,
grave were their hearts of this moment unjust
but smile they did in solitude,
smile they did in the past.
With a look of impudence
they walked on their paths
aggrieved and alarmed
but with a stubborn pride that lasts.
Their sorrows never subsided
they pressed it hard,
walking all alone on their respective paths
not looking back a bit, not a little
oh! so many emotions they slayed,
life and death
while parting ways. 

Love

Her eyes never blinked, nor pressed, nor squeezed
whether the rhythmic progression was smooth or ruffled
unlike a young maiden, she pretended not but shuffled,
neither did she carry a smile so sweet
nor did she laugh or moan or plead.
A rosy fragrance she possessed to lure the lover of her night,
each disclosed the prude, delicately untying her gite
but she was natural to gestures so soft
be it roses or rocks
or a gift more elite.
Oh! love
love wasn't what she need. 

Asylum

As she came out of that dingy room
the wind stroked her,
receiving her gladly into this new world.
Flower, happy faces, smiles
welcome! they all cried
it was huge,
they all grinned welcoming her.
She longed for this attention in another world.
Tip toes
felicitous dancing,
they all surrounded her
each contrarily cracked.
Something seemed so analogical,
it was a joyous day.
Asylum was not such a bad place after all.

Her desire to look beautiful

Oh! how much she'd change over the years
her body almost like a loose bag,
swollen and inflated with age.
Everyday she'd caress her snowy settled tresses,
mold them graciously with her ever shaky hands
and smile she did
exaggerating her faint farrowed face,
smile she did
looking at her unmatched shape.
Her laugh disclosed her devoid aperture,
the laugh men craved for years back
Alas! it became her unparagoned lack
but she was a woman of no reluctance,
It never really ended, remnant
her desire to look beautiful. 

Her idea of romance

He, who belonged to the cavalry,
she wasn't searching for
but for the one who's ways merged with her's.
A gallant prince she wasn't seeking
for rugged austere seemed more seductive.
Man, erudite enough appealed her
not a merchant with too many words.
A man's fancy possession she wasn't willing to be
but a woman of threat to his conscience.
A master reader she covet
to elate her idea of romance. 

Tell me when you need me

Tell me when you need me
for i'll walk a mile or two
to retain your trembling hands,
sweaty and dreadful.

Tell me when you need me
for i'll give you a look of impudence,
reflect your modesty through my eyes
carefully segregating the truths and the lies.

Tell me when you need me
for i'll catch you from falling
to levels of obscenity and self harm,
pick you up dusted and alarmed.

Tell me when you need me
for i'll bestow you with all my love
kiss you naked
let you explore.

But don't tell me when you love me
for vulnerability it breeds
time and again
tell me when you need me. 

Blank page

Two cups of hot coffee could not help him put his words down,
words were his power
but he lacked them just now.
Pen gifted by her still accurately placed on the blank page
he stared at it
as if it were giving him hints
then shifted his vision outside the window
gazing at her.
Something inspired him
pen finally in his hand,
he ended his poetic traverse by writing his initials at the end of the page.
He gifted her eternity, a blank page
words could not define his love for her. 

Closure

Closure!
she did that to defend herself
for the world betrayed her,
in the presence of her very conscience
the veracity was sheathed with parallel fiction,
innocence was deceived
facts were altered.
She hated her knowledge for truth
escapism was the only route.
Those presumptuous truths made her vice
enclosed within her was matter
but all together she shunned away the truths and the lies.
Her vision was obscured
closure it was of her conscience.

They are just breasts

" They are just breasts" he said with a smirk, running his insolent fingers through his hair. " Meant to be attained and felt" he added with conscience.
The level of disgust and offence filled vexation in my eyes.

" Oh! they are just breasts that define and mark my femininity, uplift my morals and reverence at one point of time and then degraded and deduced to a level of aversion and loath by men like you. They are just objects of voluptuousness, sensualism , maybe luscious to some- but oh! they are just breasts and it's a pity you don't have any for the kind of swindled courtesy they possess is quite overwhelming. They are just breasts that breed lust, virility- a licentious craving; blamed are they for the arousal of the noble and blamed are they for the arousal of the unknown. Faulty and blemished, they are worthy of censure and condemnation for a subject of ecclesiastical conclusions they have been, no denying. But they are just upholding and sustaining perverted opprobrium. Sad, they are just breasts, so desired yet abused. Deceived of love they are grounded in fact. Alas! they are reckoned as " Just breasts". 

The coffee mug

The emptiness of the house echoed silence of many years,

the windows did their part

hope they captured

but demonic existence it had

an omen of the past.

Dust or dark, the house never shivered

and neither did the coffee mug

perfect shape of lips

red imprinted

raw than ever

like an untouched work of art.

Motionless it stood since the death of the house,

the half filled coffee mug just beside the couch.

Melodious verse of death

Have you ever heard those sweet sounds of the winds?
those that the winds carry solicitous?
The swirls and whirls from the east
or maybe the west.
The humming sounds
cajoling the mankind to slumber
and celebrating her existence in obscurity.
A lullaby to the world
cessation of life,
it carried withe it the deeds
a compassionate concord
love and lust.
That's when the nature solemnizes
the galliard of darkness
but enough light beyond, felicity.
Never have you heard those melodious verse of death ?

Cacophony lies

The voices were never heard
and never will be,
those shrill utterances
persistent to be.
Mysterious violations of her dignity
altered and modified
simply and wholly
but that faint voice still in the background
languid and fatigued a lot
and fainter it got with each passing day
can you hear that, Nay?
for those truthful sounds never really faded.
A vice
those voices were named cacophony lies.

Just a friend

My eyes betrayed me
and from the corner of it
a tear shamelessly fell in desperation.
"Love does that to people" he said, smiling.
And who was he ?
Oh! " just a friend".

Red

She grew up only to see that color
red was now her companion.
It followed her, drained her
but gave meaning to her existence.
At 12 she experienced blood gliding down
from the mean of her legs, red.
Scared, amazed, exited
At 18 she cuts her hand
heartbroken, blood, red.
At 23 she gets married
the color binds her now, red.
Red was no more her favorite color
it took away her innocence,
it took away her freedom.
Red was a restriction.

Story of a criminal

My thoughts were dark,
they were covered with loath
and a great amount of contempt.
They took away my capacity to perceive
I lived a little less,
more like a cipher
dejected, in fry
glory was a far cry.
In a moment of rut, I perpetrated a sin
ruthlessly  I plundered my meek victim
blood, anguish, clamor
and her feeble stammer
but I was deaden, barbarous.
A rapacious criminal,
a man not human.
I maliced her soul along with mine
forgiveness was just not fine.
I was a heartless lack
and now
with my dark thoughts I waited for my sack.

Stare

I walk alone
slowly and effortlessly
smiling with happy realization
left and right in sequence
hair blowing back
chilly wind kissing my skin
when suddenly I feel a stare
uneasiness reside in my heart.
Steps more careful
in panic I walk, my speed a little fast.
I dare not look back for things will be sure
unsurety keeps me at peace.
Slow run and then a fast walk
I feel the touch
cold and a pinch
my garment being stretched
causing me to flinch.
Courage in my soul, fear in my eyes
I finally look back banishing my lies.
Those pair of devil eyes
moving up and down
from my bosom to my thighs.
That was the stare I feared
resented in fact
that stare I couldn't handle
in his very presence
forcing me to mantle
but folding my hands
I gave a stare back
shunned away those lies
turning towards my track.

Her last man

As she lined her deep eyes with mascara
she heard voices,
voices that were accusing her of selling, prolicide and prostitution
and long back she chose to reject these.
She was young
only her puffed rosy cheeks made her look ripe.
She was given names that degraded her
but what were names for an unburdened soul.
She was accused of sleeping with men
and there was one waiting for her.
She checked herself one last time
it was a routine though
until she finally eloped with her last man. 

Harlot

She was like illusion
hallucinating the world with her presence
not so eminent.
That smile she carried
was rare and magic
it deceived her admirers.
The chivalry came with expensive gifts
Those handsome illustrious warriors
for prospect
each seeking her graces.
She was a show
sweet cadence, a muse
there was no cad just foppish admirers.
Calling her a harlot?
That would be wrong.

The broken window

It broke
though in an artistic way
with shape unknown.
The pane got disturbed and shivered slightly
it gave way to things
things that were not permitted before.
Though broken the window seemed alive.

Captive

She was contemplating using a sharper blade, her dainty wrist ready. Just then the door creaked open, the creaking made her shiver. The wind stroked her causing the sharp blade to fall from her hand- it was as if she had made an involuntary movement to hide herself. The same tall figure with dusted boots stood before her. She had seen him before, not wanting to be horrified she curled herself holding her legs with her hands and hiding her face morbid.  She could still hear the sound of the boots walking towards her, she kept on shifting backwards until her back hit the wall behind.
He held her hair and lifted her face up for another sour encounter. He looked into her eyes and smirked. Planning to kill yourself, are you ? he asked with a grin. Her failure to do the same caused a tear to fall from her eye. She wasn't scared anymore, she was numb. She couldn't feel the pain he gave her. Months of captivity, she was already lifeless.
You cannot choose to die in matters of trade he said.It was time for her to leave, again.

Did love pass me

She surely came from heaven's above
for her beauty benumbed me.
Black lined her sagacious eyes
with each blink she appeared more serene.
Her cheeks appeared to have done a trick
Clandestine
they got its color from the rose.
Roses florid from the gardens of God.
Her wet tangled hair disturbed her
long enough to cover her chest
I patiently watched
water passing from her neckline to seclusion.
My sluggish eyes captured her every movement
every detail.
With beauty of a nymph she crossed my way
did love pass me ?

Clatter and the Experiment

I could hear the clatter
she was on one of her experiments again
I was already fretful
Ah!
the clatter and the experiment never goes well.
Last time
the noodles were like worrels down my throat
And before that
I gulped the spaghetti until it entangled with my intestine.
This time i smelled cassava
though it smelled good the risk was totally mine.
My thoughts were disturbed
when she entered smiling with a beer and her cassava dish.
My stomach just refused to sacrifice
scared, I finally spoke
just the beer would suffice.

Dead Smile

He smiled at her, wide
fixing his gaze at a place she would never find out.
She smiled with innocence
frightful inside , she had a clue
every time he lured her with a different thing
then held her hand softly in private.
Sweet symphonies he used to sing.
Holding her hand
he made her walk to places undiscovered
until they reached their station
which was usually abandoned dark and covered.
His hands traveled through her body
blemishing parts she had not yet apprehended.
He uncovered himself too
making her forcefully explore his parts.
Scared she held her hand back
and he gazed into her eyes the barbaric way.
His hands scared her existence
misused and abused it.
With pleasure he played with her meekness
her cries reached ear's none other than his.
He took her back the same way
singing the same lullaby.
See you next summer holidays he said
she gave a dead smile. 

Possesed

Human am I ?
Then why not I feel a bit more ?
The demons that lie sacred
they peer through my being
inside my soul they sing an unholy song
they laugh at my meekness.
Inside me
they continue their colature.
Enormous sounds of fear
numb me, the pressed beatings of my heart
white, pale
my veins in disdain.
I see them turning me into a phantom
Slowly, a little more slowly
the sense gone
my demons won
I am a possessed man.

Insomnia

At 12 she closed her eyes
To cut off from the world
There was darkness but no peace
Uneasy, restless she hurled.
She opened her eyes
There was darkness but no peace
At 1 she was still between her parallel worlds. 

Moonlight

I lay on one side of my bed
Curled, wide awake.
As moonlight scatter my seemingly dark room
It gives an illusionary effect.
The light acts as a pretty passage to my dark thoughts.
A passage to my world as if trying to illuminate my private thoughts
Revealing them, giving them hope.
It helps me sleep in peace.
Everyday I wake with a smile
Wondering!
My thoughts not yet disclosed.