lined up...

that house,
with quaint windows beckons me
I peep inside.
wavering shadows hide something
outside sunshine enhances the depth of darkness inside
I rub the walls
the crumbled powder of blankness
engulfs me
I imagine a dog sitting at the door

"headhunters have placed the heads on the inners walls.
what ails them, I wonder?"

ransom

your green eyes beguile me
with a hint of a smile
vast sea behind you cannot diminish your aura

that mind stretches mine to limits
that voice pushes me beyond me
yet I only see that defined chin

my cerebral nature has turned verbal
intellectual into sensual
I seriously pretend to be casual

I pick up the sensitivity
gently hold it to me
let essence of senses take over me

"the mafia that is you holds me to ransom"

Let it grow big

with humility 
I watched in mirror
it was growing bigger by the minute
to contain my spilling brains
I wanted a bigger head

fill it with any amount of nonsense

sinning through the skin

totally relaxed, I cling to you

my arms creep around you

but you clutch me tight

knowing I need that aftermath

our heightened senses linger in the room

golden hue of fantasy has become a reality

I again touch your glistening skin

you steal away my shallow breath

"I stay alive breathing through your skin"

dead woman and her treasures

dead woman slept on a ground laden with read dust, abrasive to touch

abrasiveness smoothens her roughness, although she was least bothered

dead woman had a handful of belongings, one of which was a silken scarf

where did she pick it up, finely weaved silken shawl?

our dead woman, she lifted the stack of letters from the ancient chest

those letters collected over the years, none opened as yet.

dead woman opened one of those, letting lose those words

flying words had been goaled in the letter, wishing for freedom

dead woman threw some coins after the words, 

those coins which had weighed her down over the years

dead woman's loss was more than any could fathom

how does anyone know what a dead person's life is?

"a coin with no visage, I give to that dead woman, but where is she?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing like Dead Man's Poetry to make the poetic muse come alive....

uneven

In the cobbled stones

I let my dreams run riot
I think of flaky pastries
soft and melting 
may be a chocolate brownie too
sprinkled with nuts

is it paint that has coagulated

sticking to my shoes?
I prefer mud
which has your footprints
cemented in it

butter-papered biscuits

burnt in the oven

hardened to carbon

I am left with cobblestones

mortar to bind the

"if you want you can taste the ground"

tears of the sky fall to the ground

Photo Credits: Rey-Mundo

the sky was angry in the night
it fired onto me
it had the right
I had not asked to touch it
the space I took from the sky
it gave it back to me again
by cooling it with its tears
frozen though
I call it snow.
on the blade of one my branches,
some child will come
and pull at my hand
I will let it hold me
I will let him swing on me
tears of the sky will fall to the ground
mingling with the earth
and I will float to the sky
I patiently wait for that child 
and his friends in the orange light

"remote held by sky, I grind to ground"