dangling on the edge of desire
tossing their breads in the flowing wishes stream
so much optimism i guess
expecting a large satisfying catch
of some in public intimacy
Their intellectual illiteracy
anchors to the depth
what an off the hook wreath!
My soul practicing its favorite habit
riding your stubborn stuck sighs
picking off your screams some lullabies
and of your mortal infinities its incarnation
migrating to your kingdoms of imagination
a refugee of love in flesh
without papers or feet
shaded in the green pathways of your heart beat
fishing for a sign in the mirage rivers you run
offering prayers to the shy moon and the bold sun
my soul is as stupid as me
and as eager
shall we mate?
make out to our own flirting fate?
you turn on all my hymns into love songs
and i wear your metaphors on in laces and thongs
i wanted to flee from the anticipating paws of waiting
so my every cell bled your yearning beaten
till life dried out on me
whining on its fertile vignette
calling for a prayer in its corners
i prepared my hungry inches to the seeds of your stare touches
took off all my scars for you
stripped to the bones of the lie and the true
spread my mind in shades of grey and blue
i bruised my soul, just for you...
Uncovered like the Tempest
Bewildered within the layers of velvet
as generous as our mind life monsoon
come to me, as late as soon
don't deny me your aromatic rains,
drip your pains
in my arid veins
Let your scented sighted fingers play
their melodious nectar of smoke
as they slowly hum in my burning of longing ears
take off those shells of fears,
off your mellow madness
invite your crankiness
Expose your lust of oneness
desert that hiding beneath the tiles of promises
sprinkle your tainted whispers upon my skin
we're still in the spring of the night
so tell me
how could the snow cover the erupting summits of want?
their fire whips mercilessly bleeding my patience roots
i get dismantled in the random thought shoots
and boredom is your satanic plant
you grow it in my heart of rising flames
are you still begging?
to the birth of that tomorrow?
with which the wondering Queries got deliberately pregnant?
don't you know it has been aborted
since the early days of this yearning...