eristic

25
It is,
the Twelfth of May again,
A day I never used to give a Fuck
about
But now at twenty five
Looks like I suddenly care

(eleventh of may, two thousand and five)

You
I thought of this / as I spoke
To my daughter / yet to be born
The one with / dark brown hair
And eyes / of the night time sky
The one who would be / if you now
Didn't just turn / and walk away

(twenty second of january, two thousand and five)

Panic
The days run away,
In panic from me,
What was a day ago,
Is now two, now three.

(ninth of january, two thousand and five)

Fluidity
Rain drops, on the windshield
Like words on a white sheet
Written furiously
In certain
Famished intensity
Coming together
Words, verses,
Fluidity

(tenth of january, two thousand and five)

the empty head
Did I tell you of the man who would clutch his head in absolute horror, terrified his thoughts would all slip away, that his memory would seep down the gutter of his nose, that he would, one day, have a head as empty as a mud pot just off the potter's wheel?

I Know
I know the smell of your skin
And the fervent beating of your heart
I have often
Glided
Over the curves of your back
And shivered
At the touch of your mouth
I'm still feeling
The pebbles wrapped in wet cloth
That are your nipples
And the fruit of a bounty
That's your breasts
I'm still kissing your neck
The silk of your hair in my mouth
Yes, i know,
I know you.

(sixth of april, two thousand and four)

Unmistakable
I can smell roses
Withering red roses.

Red roses,
Withering away to darkness,

Like just after a wedding,
Intermingled with the sweet breath of mogra

From flower curtains
And laughing gajras

I can smell them, yes,
Unmistakable.

(first of april, two thousand and four)

bowl
lips full,
like a prize,

red cherries and
luscious strawberries

nipples like
summer grapes,

breasts
fleshly apples

full rear
like a pear, ripe

your body,
a bowl of fruit,

sweet juicy fruit
sprinkled with spice.

(twenty first of april, two thousand and three)

curves
circles,
soft lines

eyes limpid
eyelashes, scythes

lips full,
like a prize

breasts,
erotic parabolas

areole,
aureole?

fingers long,
fingernails sharp, speckled

flawless back,
slow lazy curves

thighs and calves,
long verses

my woman,
in these love poems.

(twenty first of april, two thousand and three)

words
afraid.
afraid.
afraid.
to speak, talk and write
to see, move and act
of success,
hopeless,
dreadful,
full of dread?
restrained, shackled, bound, reticent
shackled,
afraid.

(ninth of april, two thousand and three)

like
i like you, yes,
but i like you like i would
like a story
a story i would
forget once i close the book

i like you, yes,
like i would like
a rose in bloom
a rose that would soon
whither away to nothingness

i like you, yes,
but that like is not
like love, it is more,
of a friendship, platonic,
that corrodes with distance and time

you will, however,
remain forever,
like the morals of stories
like whiffs of fragrance from whithered roses
like the friendships of good friends.

(ninth of april, two thousand and three)

crackle
in the dark jungle night
by the watering hole
where the tigers walk
soft measured steps
without a crackle, a whisper,
in silent thought
the floor covered
rotting leaves and moss
sliver of moonlight
sparkles the eyes
and glints off the gun stock
the air dead,
the wind naught
stare and startle
majestic head raised, questions
will fall down dead
doubts silenced, or not
ears cocked, keen, intense
wayward leaf, apostate
banished, falls,
drawn as if,
by the silent rock
settles crisply,
next to the careful foot
time, muscles, fingers, tightened
squeeze, now! now! now!
no, wait, aim, adjust,
crackle, noooo!!!
the hunted is lost,
gone
each with a story,
one to narrate,
one to boast.

(twenty seventh of march, two thousand and three)

romantic poems
rising and rising, slowly upward,
simmering in the warmth,
stretching like a lazy cat
on the sunlit patch
whistling in the cold
dark blustery nights
words of romantic poems
letters in the trash
eyes staring hard
looks averted in time
sometimes, sometimes not
dreams on soft, down filled beds
laid on the floor
crushed, trampled, destroyed
age in the race
breathing hard, far away
days of inclement weather
dark sad and gray
life and death
beating together
breathing together
in one breath one
in another, the other
always shy, always afraid
proud, single, lonely, alone
arrogant sonfabitch, wake up
wake up as yet,
sing a song, murmur, whisper, shout
or remain forever without
darkness remains, inside, and out
what if what if?
always the same refrain
what if what if indeed,
a heart torn apart
is better than one shrivelled, indeed!
vagrant looks, furtively seek,
here now and then there
nothing to be found, when,
hope itself is dead.

(twenty seventh of march, two thousand and three)

crossing
what place is this?
where just looking at you
is like
a sliver of light
in a dark room
like breeze
on a stuffy night
like the words
of pablo's sonnets
but its only here
and its only now
i cannot hold on to this
as it slips away
like a whiff
of soft, vanishing fragrance
you go to him
and i to my loneliness
like lines crossing
never to meet again

(sixth of march, two thousand and three)

defeat
crumbled to dust
burnt to ashes
their hopes of victory
their dreams of conquest

(seventh of february, two thousand and three)

done
now that i have,
written these four lines, this night
it's time to wrap up and go home,
my task in this dreary place is done

(third of december, two thousand and two)

lore
yesterday those
soaring the skies
today, litter the earth
now, fallen from grace

once they did
eclipse the sun
inspiring awe
in their wings of gold

i hear now
their mouths in hunger
and desperation
are filled with dust

it wasn't luck
it wasn't fate
it was what they did
and what they said

the path to glory
they paved with deceit
and with time was acquired
incredible conceit

it's funny though
forgot they did
there were others who could
play the game as well

in the end there is
a moral to the lore
when you stab someone in the back
remember to close the door

(eighth of december, two thousand and two)

this
some people don't sleep,
they wake up nights,
sit still, look around,
mope or cry or weep,
and sometimes,
as the night darkens,
they manage to look inside, deep,
sometimes they write,
and end up with,
this.

(first of november, two thousand and two)

pleasure
long walks and the thought of her lips
dimples in her cheeks
song in my head and the sway of her hips
pleasure is this
sharp nails and soft finger tips

(twentieth of october, two thousand and two)

difference
the difference between you and me
is of issues and snychrony
you write poetry, i rant
the point is you can, i can't

(around fifteenth of september, two thousand and two)

who needs sleep?
who needs sleep?
when i'm studying here
and am in sooooo deep

who needs sleep?
when i'm reading here
all nerdy and geek

who needs sleep?
in the quite of the night
with no one around to speak

who needs sleep?
when the soft music
almost makes me weep

who needs sleep?
as i turn slowly
into this funny freak

who needs sleep?

(seventh of september, two thousand and two)

finally
all that i have to say
all that i have to do
i'm waiting for the day
when i finally meet you

(twenty second of august, two thousand and two)

discreet
slim, petite
and very discreet
our love affair was nice
sugar, lemon and spice

(twenty second of august, two thousand and two)

breakfast
bread and tea
with lots of cream
but then i woke up
damn the dream!

(twenty second of august, two thousand and two)

trick
sweet verses on her tongue
it was a trap, well sprung
where i was composing prose
his trick was poetry and a rose

(twenty second of august, two thousand and two)

youth
flying high as i am
on the soaring wings of youth
later in the day it will be
just age, wisdom and truth

(twenty second of august, two thousand and two)

poem
this poet and his rhyme
must stand the test of time
and when facing the music
neither apologize nor repent

(twenty second of august, two thousand and two)

music
the sparrow and the lark
as they harrow in the dark
lend sweet music
to the summer song of my discontent

(twenty second of august, two thousand and two)

notmeant2b
she was fast
and i was slow
me and she
were like sun and snow

what she did
oft, became the stuff of lore
while i did invariably
end up three or four

in pointless things like art
she loved to paint
me, on the other hand
well, i was more musically inclined

but these are all
just reasons frivolous
for it is our heartbeats that
were pretty much asynchronous

(eighteenth of august, two thousand and two)

time
crumpled sheets
dimpled cheeks
the days are bright
the nights are deep
my head buried
in your hair as you sleep
slowly
my fingers caress your skin
and my ever inqusitive mouth
questions the lips

(fifth of august, two thousand and two)

crimson
she said no
with a crimson gaze
when i close my eyes
i see her face

(fifth of august, two thousand and two)

dark blue night
we kissed, we touched
and everything was right
we slept, we loved
in the dark blue night

(fourth of june, two thousand and two)

mist (ver1)
the music of her voice
a song in the dust
the feel of her skin
like fire in the mist

mist (ver2)
the music of her voice
a song in the dust
the touch of her skin
fire in the mist

mist (ver3)
the music of her voice
song in the dust
the feel of her skin
fire in the mist

(third of june, two thousand two)

memory
it was sweet, it was red
it was her lips, it was her breath
but all that remains of it now
is a forgotten wrinkle on the brow

(second of june, two thousand and two)

secrets
secrets we folded and kept
forgotten even in sleep
like pebbles on the bed
of some river deep

(second of june, two thousand and two)

footsteps
i stop, i stare
is it me? or is it the heat?
or did i really discern
the sound of her feet?

(second of june, two thousand and two)

the night
do you remember the night
when secrets were whispered
and laughter was light?

the one in which
the moon forgot to be bright

do you remember the night when
we met and slept
and did not care about
what was wrong
and what was right?

for i've been unable to
forget
that unforgettable night

(thirtieth of may, two thousand and two)

solitary confinement
crumpled sheets
stubled cheeks
missing the sound
of your silent feet

(twenty fifth of may, two thousand two)

Backdoor Key
I arrived upon it,
One ghostly evening night,
No light, no sound, no soul stirred,
And the front door was locked tight,

I reached back in time,
Trying to clear up the dust,
And there found in a corner somewhere,
The backdoor key, abondoned to rust,

As we stepped into the kitchen,
I heard my mother speak,
Telling me as she often did,
Sweetie, wash your hands it's time to eat,

In the dining room, the
Floorboards creaked underneath,
Used as they were these days,
To ghostly lighter feet,

And so I continued exploring,
The castle of which i'd been prince,
My father the king, my mother the queen,
But much has changed since,

The day that started it all,
Was this day today,
When so many years ago, the men of medicine said,
They'd found something in little Tim's brain,

It was very tough, I remember,
Watching my brother die,
My mother was twenty six, father thirty, me seven,
But by brother was only five,

But tougher still was,
Seeing my mother cry,
And my father tell her it would be okay,
Which his eyes betrayed to be a lie,

Never again was it the same,
In all we did ,
Before Timmy and after Timmy we said,
This was this and that was that,

Those events I often remember,
And try to forget,
But how can one ever,
Forget the way he lived his life?


(late october, two thousand and one)

wings (ver1)
with fire in her wings she soared
to burn the sky
with her there was no reason
se was there to do or to die

wings (ver2)
with fire in her wings
she soared to the skies
to burn the homes of the Gods
their heavens and their lies

(fourth of january, two thousand and one)

rain
i had, after so much pain
gathered myself
and all my dreams
together again
i left them out to dry
but they were taken away by the rain
what can i do my friend?
when it wasn't supposed to rain,
it wasn't supposed to rain!

(thirtieth of december, two thousand)

goodbye
sweet parting lips
never forget my name
remember the clouds, the mountains
the picture of us
in the pouring rain
for, love, we may,
never meet again

(twenty fourth of december, two thousand)

a prayer
i pray to God that he give me the strength
to smile in the face of adversity
with the assurance of coming victory
to face the humility of defeat
in light of having fought well
to accept unconquerable odds
with intentions to overcome them
to look at a treacherous friend
and forgive without a thought
to take the hurt
of unrequited love in my stride
and start anew, afresh
to lay down every night
with my bones tired from a hard day's work
to make promises
and keep them
to make commitments
and honor them
to smile on my deathbed
for having lived a satsifactory life

(third of october, two thousand)

the fires of spring
kindled deep
they burned within
in the fountains of youth
the fires of spring

(thirtieth of august, nineteen ninety nine)

sometimes
sometimes sorrow
wells up inside me
like a flower in spring
fills up its bud
and sometimes happiness
unexpected arrives
like summer rain
to light up my soul
there are times in between
of happy mornings
and of morose evenings
but what remains behind
are empty shells, memories
of events
of people and friends
of dreams
unfulfilled
and of mixed blessings
memories that open up the bud
and let the tears flow

(twenty fifth of july, nineteen ninety nine)

still waiting
i have been waiting for love,
to descend upon my heart,
and give it life, like,
the rain of bounty on parched earth

so that burst forth from my breast,
the flowers of happiness that love brings,
and the bitter sweet thorns that remind
there is as much to give as to receive

it is i'm told, the most beautiful
feeling the world has ever known
to lie in the arms of the only
woman that you have and will ever love

it should, if it has to, happen soon,
before i, like a lost soul in the desert
fumble into some mirage that consumes
my being with promises never to be fulfilled

O love!, then!, come hither to claim me
for i cannot go much further on
without the woman i that
God has destined to be mine

(seventh of march nineteen ninety nine)

rise
from our pettiness, let us rise above
so that we may
in our lives everyday
spread sweetness and love

with simple acts of kindness and faith
with words of wisdom and advice
and a few such things which seem so nice
we bring meaning to every breath

(fourteenth of february, nineteen ninety nine)

abyss
i have lost my way and stumbled,
into an abyss i'm falling,
there is darkness all around,
but i hear someone calling

the voice that i hear,
i guess it is mine,
for as i get near,
it seems more like a whine

all around me,
there is nothing but despair,
i guess i need help,
but no one seems to care

the moon has stopped smiling,
the sun has stopped shining,
the story of my life,
will have a sad ending.

(twenty seventh of january, nineteen ninety nine)

shells
shells like random thoughts
unclaimed, unacclaimed,
waiting in patient moments,
for a hand to touch them,
and give their dead beauty, life.

(seventeenth of april, nineteen ninety nine)

what the hell is going on here?