A White blanket

 

A deep breath and it hurts my lungs
bleeds my lips, bites into my fingers
It looks beautiful, yet I hate it
the cold , the snow, the chilly wind

Reminiscent

From the shadow
Of a mind hiding a dark past
Surfaces a face, gentle, haunting, beautiful
Stirs up my mind, strumming my heart
Butterflies fluttering in the belly
Apart from this childish imagery of a teen falling for a girl
A thirst for her flesh
A lust for her love
Like a cannon ball
Shattering a wall of gentle rose petals
The lust too much to evade
The longing for her touch like a million needles
Piercing my skin, bleeding lust
The air thick, with the evil of this thought
Like a vice , tightening around my lungs
Killing me morally
Her existence, an embodiment of lust
I can only follow,shattered,lacking will.

I wish i lived back then.

 

Back then life had a meaning
a meaning as deep as the universe itself
Back in the times of Che,
To have ridden with him , to have spoken , heard him
his ideas , his thoughts
so much alike,
A ‘one man army’ of indefinite proportions
and the youth of today wear his face
in tattoos, on clothes
grin as if they know,
The revolution is dead Che
no more do they think of equality
its a lost art
I wish i had lived in your times
i wish I had died with you.

Reruns

 

Clear, the skies, beautiful evenings
As far as the eyes can see.
Blue, a tinge of red blending the setting sun
Gentle clouds hum a soothing song
Soothing, my heart has not known such a thing
Its been broken,
Shattered,
Scattered across
All over the gentle countryside.
What happened? you may ask
no offence shall be taken.

It exploded, filled too much
Too much of loneliness, it kept on filling

I stare into the setting
its going to be cold soon
loneliness shall gather no more though
The one heart that could gather it has gone
Short-lived as that thought is, i feel loneliness again
this time gnawing
gnawing at my soul
projecting your memories
in the evening mist
I can only smile at it, in despair
feel its omnipresence,
all i can do is wait,
only that, which shall cure me,
your voice or my death
such a flux of silliness
that you shall once be equated with death
I await.

Love making and a book reading

Feeling the warmth of her body on my skin
On my back, her breath on my heart, she and me
Lost in a world of make believe,
And the time just ticks softly by
those pages brush past by
Rustle,
She whispers,
are we making love
I look at her and smile. This is what love is
You and me in the sheets
Exchanging heat, in a world created
And the creator is long gone
Just to stare at each other and smile
This is what making love is

Grim

"Take me home, with you"
she was in tears, shattered,
"I don't want to be alone anymore"
I reached out, "there is room for everyone child, come"

A dark veil, covers my face,"Why are you so sad dear one"
" am without love, my heart feels cold. No one needs me" spoke she.
"Would you ask a stranger like me to take you away? so unafraid" I ask
"Afraid of what, if I shall be killed, You seem generous so I asked" says she.

"Child do you know who I am, my staff announces my coming,
The humanity fears my very sight, and you reach out to me"
" Would you know me? and if you do now would you still hold on to my hand?" I ask
"There is nothing besides my loneliness, that shall sing my saga." I wont she said.

My sythe, reaped her soul, I walk on
To another victim, another land, but I trun back at her stiff body once
For your will full submission I am afraid, there is nothing I could provide, I think and sigh
There is so much ground to cover. Being death is a busy job.