Promises made and promises broken
Promises that are so often forgotten
But promises kept are affection’s token
And promises broken suck dirty rotten
Some are made in the blink of an eye
And some are born out of obligation
Some are just parts of a big fat lie
And some promises cause constipation
But the real worth of a promise, then
Lies in the moment in which it’s made
Because words spoken can hurt badly when
The tongue works like a razor blade
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The Worth of a promise
by - suraj sharma on Saturday, September 30, 2006 2 comments
Tautologies
by - suraj sharma on Friday, September 22, 2006 3 comments
Carry me, my love, she said,
And I carried her to bed.
Numerous lies were told her there,
To catastrophe she was led.
Tautologies I recited in her ears,
I had nothing else to offer.
Unwearyingly she learnt to live,
In this empty king’s empty coffer.
But I was up to evil again,
I slaughtered her unborn children of hope.
Blinded her with recursive silence,
And bound her with a fantasy rope.
Every fiber of her being, then,
Was held prisoner in my breath.
Carry me, my love, she said,
And I carried her to death.
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Rasputin’s Revolver
by - suraj sharma on Wednesday, September 06, 2006 2 comments
Flare and smoke and a pointy copper shell,
Your own personal rocket on a staircase to hell
Rasputin’s revolver and it’s front loading muzzle
A dash of my ire and there goes this puzzle
A promptly squeezed trigger causes inanimate combustion
Claustrophobic mind opens up to the congestion
Like molten lava escaping from a lubricated vent
There’s nothing you can do then, nothing but repent
There always lies a way to put an end to this dissension
When you get too old and barely eke out a pension
And life becomes a bitch and the only way to dissolve her
Is a fucked up mind and this Rasputin’s revolver
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Dreams
by - suraj sharma on Sunday, September 03, 2006 7 comments
And thus I,
Remain uncoiled,
Between the sheets
My drawers are soiled
And you remain, desecrated,
In my sorry soul,
Engulfed in your own mélange
Enveloped by your camisole,
I relapse,
As I collapse,
Is this for certain?
I’m unsure. Perhaps.
But Strange,
as it seems,
But we never get as close
As we do in dreams.
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