Affidavits of Mystery

The temple bells are ringing slow,
In the precincts of this monolithic edifice,
Candescent flames of hope burning low,
A silent prayer for deliverance of laboratory mice

My father nudged on the arm of another person,
And asked him about my destiny’s decree,
He replied, if the conditions don’t worsen,
I shall be the ambassador of all who’re free

But as I walk across these corridors of pain,
I smell naphthalene balls and tinctures of iodine,
The battles fought by disinfectants in vain,
These germs have witnessed more than I’ve seen

And I feel as if the best days of my life,
Are now available on DVDs in stores,
Too many possibilities of perpetuation in strife,
Too many nights spent with temporary whores

What’s the lesson then, that’s not been learnt?
What explains these lingering notions odd?
The affidavits of this mystery have all been burnt,
And faithful hypocrites now believe in god.



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Must you die, nemesis?

Must you die, my nemesis?
Swallowing this capsule of regret,
Shoved down your blowhole,
By your nemesis, the me?

Must you die here, arch enemy?
In this blue lagoon, with my harpoon,
Slitting your four chambered heart into two,
For more than just an iota of my retributive satisfaction.

Shall I smile the smile of a hunter worth his while?
Or shall I lament the loss of a deserving adversary?
Shall I lick my thus-vindicated wounds?
With this tongue that longs no more for the taste of your blood.

Is the glare of the photographer’s smoldering flash,
Hurting your conjunctiva?
And does it bother you, when I dream,
Of your skeleton suspended from the roof of a museum?

Would you ride the zeppelin of my desires, dearest foe?
Now that yours has succumbed, to my obdurate will, but still,
It’s not as if you didn’t go down with honor,
Anarchist of the highs seas, you were mighty even in death.

Against whom shall I now draw,
Conspicuously meticulous and creative plans of destruction?
Who shall visit my blood-smeared dreams now?
The visions of whom shall now drape my sanity?

You left me without an offspring and intestate,
And my hatred incubator is empty once again,
But farewell, nemesis, may we meet in other dimensions,
Farewell and rest in peace.



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Harp lady

Joanna has such a surprisingly suffocating voice,
What is she not letting go of?
Is It her own mystically magical self?
Or something that I shouldn't know of?

Yes, she plays the harp with some skill,
Is that the agility of her fingers?
Or is it what happens in that infinitesimal moment,
In which her each thought lingers?

And I feel like the flower that blossoms,
When it’s touched by the dewdrops in her tears.
Is it in the fragile way she pierces into my soul?
Or is it just those peaches, plums and pears?



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The Spirit Welder

Thirteen pills of Babylon,
And yet I feel lost and alone,
I wish for raindrops to turn into bombs,
And I wish for these missiles to guide me home

Aurora licks my silver wounds,
With her silent rainbow lies - stoic and hollow,
If this Sisyphean trail’s end were in sight,
What’d I regurgitate and what would I swallow?

I often search for splinters of truth,
In the noir dreams of test-tube babies,
And I find myself casting sparkling reflections,
In the deserted eyes of coyotes with rabies

I fall in love with mannequins of wood,
And propound anachronistic theories of marriage,
And upon the death of my reasons to sing,
I blame my mother for her false miscarriage

So put your gas mask on, O spirit welder,
And disassemble me part-by-part,
I’m a clockwork automaton in this digital age,
No microchips are embedded in my unyielding heart.



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Dystopian Dilemma

-1-

The victory of forces of reason
over forces of kindness,
Brings us to a point, where,
Science spills it’s guts out,
And people relish it’s delicacies.
And Self-righteous morons,
Stand in perfect concordance,
With their electronic gods,
Curse them!
Curse them! For they shall eternally rot,
In the abysmal trenches,
Of their self-constructed oceanic hell.

-2-

Trust not these bible-thumping idiots,
The time is ours, and hope,
Shares the same bed as us,
And you must never allow,
The morally irrational incantations,
Of those who believe in the suppression-
Of the logical forces of reason,
To hold you captive in the prison of false faith,
And the rituals of superstition.
Absolution; is not an undertaking of god,
Nirvana is a cerebral function and only your neurons,
Can perpetuate the feeling of eternal bliss.


-3-

This is all Bullshit!
Do you really believe in this?
The real logic always transcends,
Consciousness and all it’s cousins
And consciousness,
Can never be dictated.
It creates it’s own extremes,
It’s own laws, it’s own religion.
And the moment you subscribe,
To the theories of anything that,
Lies outside your consciousness,
Know, that you are no longer free.



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Apprehensive Giraffe

Long neck, approaching,
The airspace of the people’s republic of china,
Requesting permission to land,
On the cool green grass that grows
Around and under the palm trees in the distance

Hot air causes optical illusions
And hot air balloons
With their Technicolor exteriors
Cause collision in the sky

Mayday! Mayday!
But it’s July the eleventh, not may
Are we going to die?
I hope we are

The apprehensive giraffe watches in silence
As this metallic comet decides to descend
Ablaze and at great speeds
It takes a little time for the dust to settle

And when it does get calmer
I can hear large teeth chewing green grass
and sniffing my hair, perhaps
He wants to welcome me to Mongolia



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Daydreams of a fisherman’s wife

Subliminal reveries of the fisherman’s spouse
In a slithering, slippery, erogenous drowse
Find her floating in a pool of septic pus
And in the embrace of something unctuous

Vacuum cusps kissing her unsheathed softness
She lies in the company of the prisoner of Lochness
Who’s invertebrate and has tentacular appendages
And unwraps her from her emotional bandages

The hind walls are pierced with organic orifices
And someone behind them intermittently pisses
Her lover’s gelatinous arms slide on her slimy skin
And awaken the monster that dwells within

She quivers as it then infiltrates in a spur
Releases spermatophores and impregnates her
And then she, for just a microsecond gestates
Entrapped fluids escape from all her bodily gates

The maiden’s iliac now swells with heavenly pleasure
It’s an ecstatic saturnalia by every measure
Her spirits swim in celebration of liberation from their velour
A kafkaesque explosion and she's the cephalopod's paramour



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Escapism’s Adventure

Escapism finds it’s roots deep down
In shallow pools of materialistic fools
And the effort that it takes to mutate this frown
Cannot be measured in existential joules

Everyone wants an unreal adventure
But the economic boom and the fear of doom
Decapitating braces and evolutionary denture
All keep them tangled in necessity’s loom

On Saturdays my heart fills with pity
As mortals gather around oddly lit portals
And celebrate their blessed mediocrity,
As innocence weeps and libido chortles

Is their no release for us prisoners of life?
If I could resign from this day-job, I would
But being and conscience won’t call off this strife
I don’t want to live. But maybe I should.



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The Worth of a promise

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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Tautologies

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

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

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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Soon

In disparate quotes, my god emotes
Slowly I watch my destiny unfold
Perpetual journeys in sinking boats
No sunken treasure. No pirate gold.

Melancholia reigns, and anger remains
My eyes wrapped in celluloid dreams
My patience in it’s captivity drains
No retribution. Just a void that screams.

This lunacy’s spree, it sets me free
But freedom was never a goal contested
I prayed but just for the sight of thee
Ah! But my prayers were self-infested

This lycanthrope, once tied to a rope
Now freely howls under waxing moon
He asks with whom did his fortune elope?
And why the fuck did she leave so soon?



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Bubblegum Requiem

I am a man whom nobody loves
Because for a living I sell balloons
And make condoms out of surgical gloves
For her majesty’s urging platoons

Into me they push their pins
And I tie my mind in rubber bands
Am I not proud of these sins?
Must she grant all their demands?

They chew me and they spit me out
They’ll never write me a requiem
And I don’t have a fucking doubt
For I’m not a fucking bubblegum

I’m fed drips of melting plastic
I’m made to lick burning tires
And kismet’s motives are rarely scholastic
But I’ll live and learn till will expires



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The Laughing Tunnel

Run away and hide, girl,
Reality’s askew
And when you lost your pride, girl,
Trouble found you

Someday you‘ll reach Neptune, dear
Someday you’ll touch the stars
But what becomes of this usurped fear?
That lives beneath your scars

I’d like to see you on a laughing spree,
Mouth gaping like an open funnel
That’s when it will occur to me,
That it’s an evil, laughing tunnel



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Sleepwalker

Wake up, brave sleeper,
Thor’s hammer strikes the midnight’s gong,
Wake up, slave reaper,
And heed not the sleepy cradlesong

Wake up, destiny’s unlearnt mistake,
And in the milky moonlight bathe thy ebony hide,
Awaken! You fool! Your existence is fake,
Awaken, and follow the rising tide

Walk on the thread on which you let clothing dry,
Walk on the hollow construction girders,
Walk on, against your equilibrium’s cry,
Walk! I command you, And commit seven murders

Step over sanity’s restricting threshold,
Step over see-saws and step over swings,
Step over to this side, come now, be bold,
Step on the instincts your drowsy conscious brings

Saunter, across these ill illuminations,
Beyond these, there are great fields of corn,
Tread across the roads that join great nations,
Damnations! You should’ve heard that big truck’s horn!



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Mother

Didn’t I tell you I could fly?
Didn’t you call me Icarus’s son?
Mother, now watch me as I die -
And I’ll watch you as you come undone

Wasn’t it me you didn’t want to see?
Am I not the one you so abhor?
Catch a glimpse as I play with gravity
Mother, I just jumped from the twenty-first floor



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Friendship Rules

I remember back when I was young
The adulthood bells still hadn't rung
In the nation's capital we used to dwell
When life was peachy and all was well

Friends were neighbors and neighbors were friends
And a simple sorry made all the amends
In the breeze of summer nights and under the sun
Me and my friends would often play badminton

Gauri, Pooja, Shilpi, Suraj and Prateek
None of us were shy, none of us was meek
And blessed souls we were indeed
Always there in each other's need

Many a things my heart remembers
That secret club with seven great members
And all the festivities and all the celebrations
Some memories are lost in life's facilitations

But the winds of time blew much to soon
And we had to part with this joyous song's tune
And I remember that one sad goodbye
Oh! when I barely managed not to cry

We all moved on, and we let life progress
But we all missed each other, and this I confess
That I'd sell my soul to relive the glory
Of those golden days; of that old story

And we reunite now; in this virtual realm
We're doctors and lawyers and people at the helm
And let this be said to adulthood's bells
Our friendship RULZ! And nothing else.




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The Joker

It has begun
And it has a gun
Oh! What fun!
Oh! What fun!

With a tricky spin
And a sneaky grin
It has begun
To drown my sun




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Bloggers Against Censorship

To use this image in your own blog, please save it and upload it elsewhere (not on blogger servers), since people are using proxy "hacks" to view blogs, viewing the images is not possible in all cases. Especially if the images are hosted on blosgspot servers. As of this writing, images hosted outside (such as on googlepages) can be viewed. Thank you all for your co-operation.

Noumenon - 2

Titanium reinforced armor adorns my unrestrained wrath
I have slain every miracle that ran towards your aid
I refuse to carry this burden into oblivion
The burden of mistakes I have reluctantly made

Scimitars of demolition I chain to my hands
As this demonic hour passes through the night
For too long to my love I have owed this debt
I have no choice; unto death I shall fight

I await ragnarök with the sound of critters in my ears
And rattlers whisper to tell my sorry old tale
Of how your contagious insanities slaughtered my love
As the lord turned deaf at the sound of my wail

Like a madman I wandered in these infinite woods
For light years that stood afore our reunification
I had resolved to seek out vengeance divine
And allowed my impetus this minor modification

And now I am your greatest enemy
And now I am Noumenon’s death incarnate
I’ll tear through your flesh like you tore through my dreams
You’re driven by your fears; I’m driven by my hate

Inevitability stares with a death gaze at me
I’ve erased all borders between you and your rape
Summon your slain warriors and call all your beasts
Your fall is certain, there is no escape.




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Noumenon - 1

O! brazen lords of philosophy,
And dacoits of every single natural emotion,
You are the creators of conspiracy theorists,
You are the lust in the savant’s devotion

Illegitimate children of Nostredame you are,
And devil worshippers just don’t compare,
To the evil you hold within your souls,
To the grin behind these faces austere

No exodus can depict your arrival,
Neither will one denote your fall,
No evidence screams of your existence,
Nothing’s a proof, except my gall

Minions and slaves of your amphibious gods,
Tried to devour me in epochs past,
I chained them and hung them inverted from the sky,
And this time I’ll administer the rectal mast

“Noumenon!, Noumenon!” I hear your chant,
As you are Romanticizing your malevolent designs,
Fearless, my mind bestows upon me now,
Every deterrent my conscious consigns

Prepare for combat, you unworthy foes,
I want a war no less than you desire,
Let’s leave behind some stories of gore,
A history in blood, never fails to inspire.



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Imaginary Mistakes

All my friends are victims
Of profound psychological problems
Severe conditions, where generative genitals
Spray the walls of their minds with nymphomaniacal tendencies
In pink and blue and in a rainbow hue
And, termitic instincts to fuck viscerally crawl up
Dementia is soon a hostage in a Stockholm syndrome situation,
Jacob climbs the ladder as jack once did over a beanstalk
But it’s not all birds and bees, no,
It’s spiritual, transcendent, non-physical, meta-physical
And I relish the stories all my friends have to tell me
More than I enjoy their other aural smut
And for an infinitesimal moment in time
I am unable to extricate between the thus depicted products
Of my self-inflicted and illusionistic delusions
Time relapses as the cosmic boom in my mind
Implodes and turns into a ball of brushed sheet metal
And explodes again to unglue my eyelids
from the blotting paper of dreams
Which find their long lost focus in the intense glare of the evening sun
I ask mother what time it is.
It’s 6 in the evening. The sun behaves like my last lover
Begging me to let go of her arm, so she could go home
And like the common covetous Romeo, I,
Ask for but one last kiss; or here, at least a promise of dawn
And all my friends are gone now
I wipe my eyes clear of memories and other filth
Take one more quick glance at the sun and allow it’s departure
So that I may rhapsodize my enthusiasm to my friends again
And let them know - that I don’t believe
In their Imaginary existence;
To me they’re as real as love



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Three Tibetan Travellers

One Tibetan monk and one Tibetan monkey
Ride across Tibet on one Tibetan donkey
Across the valleys and o’er snow-capped crags
The weight of these simians their sorry ass drags

‘Tween monasteries and pagodas their wisdom they spread
The donkey eats shit while they feast on bread
And on sacred themes the primates debate
In psychobabble to which the donkey cannot relate

Through gulches and gullies and in every village
‘cross every prosperous and failing tillage
They forewarn against the good lord’s wrath
And insist on plodding of the middle path

Arguably they’re queried by many a peasant
The answer to these queries is seldom pleasant
Treading the middle path requires the kind of discipline
To which these lowlife heathens aren’t really akin

And this crystalline discipline reflects in their actions
For whenever the solution is apportioned in odd fractions
The middle one they will impetuously choose
And blame it on Buddha should their conscious refuse

Now it so happens, that they come afore a pass
This Himalayan foothill that's beset with tall grass
A decision now lies ‘tween them and their grails
For the path ahead diverges in three different trails

The right towards prosperity and the left towards doom
And the middle one to an avalanche that’ll sweep them like a broom
After much contemplation their decision stands bold:
To take the middle path just like Buddha had told

But the mule is frozen, he’s cold and afraid
He is no more a part of this fanaticism’s parade
When no amount of kicks and curses seem to work
The monkey finally calls him an ass and a jerk

And decides to endure the journey on foot
And the monk follows too; his intelligence kaput
The donkey now watches his two unkind friends
As they meet their horridly deserving ends

As onwards he marches towards the right way,
Where he hopes to find some of the finest hay
He wonders perhaps in reason’s abatement:
Why Buddhism is such a big fashion statement



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Suddenly

Suddenly your eyes; seem don’t seem as lewd
And your kisses taste like hospital food
Thought we came here to make love to each other -
But now all we’ve got is this fiery feud

What your mouth gives my mouth receives
Just your passive, pathetic, puked-up peeves
Suddenly the descant that played in my head -
Starts sounding like the sound of rustling leaves

I try to bury this hatchet of hate
And in jelly of patience let my love insulate
But suddenly your intentions of leaving are evident -
As are my intentions of blaming it all on fate

We’re trapped in this undertow of the falling tide
And all the forces against us, have staunchly allied
Suddenly I’m not the knight in shining armor -
And suddenly you’re not my benevolent bride

My visions of a flawless future stand re-arranged
As all your demands become discreet and deranged
And I realize this as you walk out my door -
How suddenly my whole life has changed



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The Irish Flute

This Irish flute of solitude,
Has played me too long with it’s illusory jest;
And when I blow my heart out into it;
It’s timbre vacillates my timber breast

Atop this meadow hill I stand;
Hold the flute of solitude in my hand;
I’ll Pump my soul in the wooden pipe;
So that all may hear my loneliness’ gripe

No trite song shall I play today;
For the song must summon my lover of old;
To her I shall surrender my destiny;
For I am hers; to shape; to mould;

So I commence; thence; put all my compunction aside;
She’s calling me from Elysium and I must abide;
But guilty seas lie in between / and / I don’t think I can sail through;
I have no ship and I have no sail; the wind’s my enemy and I have no crew;

But I shall persist; command and insist
Her to spare me this pointless privation;
And to return from those frozen lands
And be the cause of my joy and elation;

And all the while, this wooden flute;
Rendering all the other voices mute,
Whispers gently to the gentler air,
"She's gone / she's gone; she's never coming back;
she's gone forever; despair; despair"



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Victory

Victory drips from this resolute soul
The sweet taste of it fills my mouth
It’s not as sweet as your kisses could have been
But then, it almost gets me there; It’s -
The only compromise I could ever make
Swapping you with this victory
That slowly drips from this resolute soul
Perhaps because of this leaky resolution
That challenges fate to try to tempt me,
And renders it’s every attempt futile,
I can not stop sucking this sweet taste of victory
That tastes almost as sweet as your kisses
Could have been
So, let it leak forever from this resolution
This leaky resolution
That I’ll never ever love any other girl.
Ever
And allow me the sweet taste of victory. Forever.


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Postcards from the third world

To all my brothers and all my sisters
And to all the immoral and corrupt ministers
To every stalker of a better luck
Who’s stuck in this orgy and doesn’t want to fuck
To all I send these postcards and prayers
May god give you food and DVD players

To the woman who ate rice from the gutters
To the unemployed scientist who quietly mutters
To all those born with a silver spoon
To every gangster and every goon
For all these people I ask from god
To teach them fishing and teach them fraud

To the new bride in the abortion clinic
To the girl in her womb - already a cynic
To the doctor who knows, had it been a boy
She wouldn’t have ever paid him to destroy
To all those stuck behind me in this traffic
I wish they had the eyes of national geographic

To all who see culture in this disorder
To our neighbor - seemingly blind to the border
To insincerity’s cadaver and to poverty’s vulture
And to all those who see disorder in this culture
For every beast and every man
I wish I could say there’s a better plan

To all the people in the second world and first
To all who don’t know how to spell worst
To every celebrity who comes so often
Gets pictures taken and adopts an orphan
To all you people I send love and care
And would never wish for you to be here


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Russian Robot

In Russia was this robot made
It’s dilapidated and of the worst grade
In a post-communist era they constructed it
For a purpose unfathomable - perhaps to sit

But it’s vacuum tubes will glow and burn
And cogs and gears will start to turn
If only that something would happen
Which would make him drop this inaction’s weapon

His owner now, is completely perplexed
Sorrowed by a great loss - and utterly vexed
But the stupid piece of metal won’t even budge
And refuses to engage in his routine drudge

But his legs were perfect for bipedal motion
His hydraulic hinges need no magic potion
And if occurs the event, that’s long been due
He’ll go back to work - as good as new

And then one day all his logic concurred
For the long awaited event had finally occurred
When in the basement, where the robot lay
His violin, the owner‘s kid, began to play

And his eyes illuminated, lips forged a smile
For music was what he needed all this while
And the owner’s kid stood right there in awe
Confused and amazed by what he saw

And let this be a lesson to all you souls
With hearts as cold as immortal ghouls
For whenever your memory begins to rot
Remember how I revived the Russian robot.


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The Alchemist and the Reverse Engineer

You, the believer in alkahest
And the vivacious lover of base metals
You show them visions of an elixir
Then pugnaciously crush them with rose petals

Me, the believer in a higher quest
Me, the author of this intricate code
I’m the person you once destroyed
Who’s outsides burn and insides corrode

You practice the catastrophic alchemy
Of inhaling mercuric fumes of love
And as you slip into insanity’s refuge
I am slipping into closure’s glove

You, the cunning, conniving pseudo scientist
Me, the deceivingly innocent imbecile
I might have had some bugs in my cipher
But there are no hard feelings, there is no bile

I lie now amidst the rubble and debris
Of the contrivance I took apart to understand
That every word you said to me
Was a loyal accomplice in your plan so grand

You’re now addicted to universal solvents
And I sip coffee of the finest brew
I wish I had some thing to thank for
To you, the Nazi, and you, the Jew

But doesn’t it seem absurd to you?
Because to me it seems so queer
As I was once the alchemist,
And you, the reverse engineer



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Inconsequence is Immortal

I hear now the imaginary ocean
In all it’s glory and with all its devotion
Stretching herself around the infirmary bed
Where I lay almost dead and devoid of motion

Electronic contraptions, inventions of man
Busily buzz and whirr and beep
Injecting into me their electrical tentacles
And sucking away my blood and sleep

The nurse on the night shift today
Sits besides me on this craft
That I’ve made above the hospital linen
And which resembles a mighty wooden raft

As time approaches of my furlough
I fight lonesome, long and overwhelming battles
Against the inconsequence bent to devour me
Whilst my time like a sidewinder rattles

And suddenly then; the night shift nurse
Soaking wet in my remorse and slur
Morphs into an equally gorgeous -
Incarnation of Lucifer

She kisses my paralyzed self
And runs her pale hands thorough my black hair
Whispers in my ear, “inconsequence is immortal”
I whisper into hers, “I don’t fucking care”



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Patterns of Self Destruction

When your masturbatory fantasies start getting bizzare
And doubt raises it's hideous head
You ask yourself who you really are
And can't remember what your father said

When truth is locked in the dungeon of silence
When little girls cease to play with dolls
And all the words of the prophet of doom
Are written all over the subway walls

When quietness was raped by stockbrokers
And tranquility has been dead for an eon
When kindness has completely closed it's door
And children sleep in the eerie glow of neon

When fluorescent chemicals flow in our rivers
And stinginess flows through human hearts
And the only time people actually listen
Is when you burp and your dog farts

When evangelists are hell bent on preaching
That right among us Jesus walks
But the lovely brunette drops her hair for bleaching
Because sex sells and money talks

When the virtues of rationality and morality
Find each other in an everlasting ruction
Then the only good news is that you're absolutely free
To witness these patterns of self destruction



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Nothing New

I have bled crimson - and
I have bled blue
But I have Bled the most
When thoughts of you
Come around swirling
Snaking and twirling
Leave me fucked up and what's more
It is nothing new

This torture is mutual
And if it is not
Then I must be the biggest
Fool in this lot
I wish you would end this
I wish I could too
But we're fucked up and what's more
It is nothing new

Come back my poison
I don't want to die
By the hands of life
Unfulfilled and dry
Come back and kill me daily
Like the way you used to
But you're fucked up and what's more
It is nothing new



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The Seamstress’s Daughter

She’s unrepentant and doesn’t deny
There’s more to her than meets the eye
Never an admirer of automation of chores
Feels right at home, among dykes and whores

She’s pretty averse to the idea of clothes
Children of all kinds she loathes
Not quite the rebel for a virgin cause
Counting down the days to her menopause

Spits out feminist anthems full of spite
From behind the anonymity of her website
Mortally dislikes all human contact
Considers love to be something abstract

With her blood she would like to paint
And she spits on you if you call her quaint
Doesn’t like to drink, and she don’t do drugs
Watches television lying naked on the rugs

Neo-pagan rituals she performs with a chalice
Even though her heart be ripe with malice
Dreams of the day when she'd live with witches
As continually in her basement her mother stitches



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Circles Of Desire

It is not my duty
And no woman of earthly beauty
-Could convince me to stop-
Within these circles of desire
Or rest in a shallow quagmire

There is no obligation
Forced upon me by any sensation
-Curiosity, hunger or simply lust -
To stay within these circles of desire
I’m on a journey and can’t retire

I’m high above such petty distractions
Motivation smiles behind all my actions
-Oh but it wasn’t always the same-
I was once trapped in a circle of desire
A soap bubble cage that was set on fire

Inevitably bubble burst
I came out devoid of all thirst
-Learnt an excruciatingly painful lesson-
Erased all the circles of my desire
Sold all my dreams to the next buyer

And though my heart now is dark and sooty
But she was a woman of unearthly beauty
-I know it might never be the same again-
But I will never stop in the circles of my desire
To prove to her that I’m not a liar


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In Eternia

The splendour and the charm
The summer breeze so warm
What could possibly be the harm?
Of living in eternia

Everyone's healthy but no one's fit
Irrational thinking is mistaken for wit
Everything else is just bullshit
Here in eternia

Infinity streches towards both ends
Possibilities exist that no one comprehends
And fate it's helping hand lends
To a chosen few in eternia

Each other's blood our intentions have sucked
Brutually the strings of my heart get plucked
Eternity is eternally fucked
Right here in eternia

Demons and angels liplocked in a kiss
Perpetual ignorance, perpetual bliss
Insanity looms in doom's abyss
Beneath the ground in eternia



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Tetrahydrocannabinol

There’s a kaleidoscopic spectrum
Composed of every psychedelic hue
And whenever I’m faced by this spectre so rum
Then I think of you, and Scooby doo

Beyond this fleeting phantasmagoria
Lies the garden of Adam and Eve
Wherein you’ll find that perfect euphoria
Something you’d have to feel to believe

The subtle gyrations of the cogs that belong
To my father’s old grandfather clocks
Will generate nothing but apathy so strong
So unwind, my friend, and take off your socks

And let the ghosts of your past slide
In the evanescent traces of memories in smoke
Respite, and in yourself confide
It’s been so long since your heart last broke

Pink electrons suspended in ether above
Hypnotically serenading your senses
Until every shoe fits like a glove
And you have destroyed all your defenses

Pity the ones who scowl on your addiction
To these neurotoxins of nature
They’ll forever suffer in time’s friction
To hell with their law and legislature



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Schmopyrights Reserved

All schmopyrights are reserved,
This poem is not your own,
So do not copy from this poem,
It is mine and mine alone

Schmopyrights are pretty neat,
They protect ineffectual property,
That belongs to ineffectual people,
Like me and you, you see

There are lots of plagiarists around,
They like to steal from others,
It seems that they never learnt,
Anything good from their mothers

So if you lift this work of mine,
You’ll be hunted down by a vicious bird,
And then it’ll kill you for certain,
Because all schmopyrights are reserved.



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Frostbite

I can feel you snowy fangs,
Burying themselves in my warm heart
Can you feel my swift pangs?
Aching reminders of a fatal start

These walls of snow that you build around
Your impregnable fortress of ice
To keep you safe from love's hound
Have frozen all my courage more than twice

But the stories that I hear
In the silence that you keep
Are dismal whispers to my fear
As up these walls again I creep

Somewhere I know I'm destined to fall
But my heart refutes the fact
That none can survive beneath this pall
That covers yourself with so much tact

So I will try, till I can try no more
To breach this fortification of lies
Until my balmy brown skin is sore
Until my frostbitten heart dies.



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Building the Numb

Chaos is the monster
Who lives under my bed
And conspires my fall
While I suck on my thumb

Wicked abominations
Tangled in cobwebs of doom
Are eyeing my greedily
As I'm building the numb

Vampires of time sucking
Blood from my fucking veins
Bleeding me to afterlife
And I'm feeling sort of dumb

Slowly I'll wake and
Slowly they'll sleep
No time to weep
As I'm building the numb

Black widow spiders, slaves of regret
Crawling on my chest and
Drooling blood on my sweat
But to my demons I cannot succumb

O! devine lord of chance
Render thyself visible
And rescue me from this happenstance
For I'm Bulding the Numb.



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