Oneirism

It was the secret in her eyes that I could never derive.
Derided and disregarded.
But I couldn't twitch a brow.
I was a mute watcher.
As I saw her and everything else burn to flames.

But was I juvenile?
For I didn't see it coming,
until it charred everything.

She trembled, she got swayed
"It's not the right way forward", I said.
But as usual, she did what her heart told her
As she dragged me along.
"The bus will be here shortly
hop in, never look back", said she.

"You will come with me won't you?" I asked.
Her silence couldn't keep the tears from cheating her eyes.
"My heart lies with you!" protested I,
"And the world is too big right now.
let me grow my feet a bit here.
I'll go away when my time would be near."

"Don't let emotions fool you", she said
"There isn't much to do now,
your work is done here.
Pack your memories,
and tuck them neatly somewhere inside your head".

"Run away from this house of burning ire
Because it is bound to fall soon.
Forget me like you've forgotten all your estranged lovers.
And hope we meet some other day,
in some other world.
Where there won't be a house,
or a name,
and a responsibility of keeping it".

Rape Nation

Yet again the Phallus has risen

In bestial proportions

To reclaim the throne

And to remind its benefactors

The oath that led to an understanding

Between The Instrument 

and the one who inherits it-

The oath to rule the Virgin Hole;

The oath to skew clarity of many.

For the key to unholy secrets

Dangles between fingers and legs

of those who write the future, present and past

for the rest of the lot.

Through millennia of mind control

the Phallus and his inheritors

have bind her with the decree of ownership

of the Virgin Hole

for she is a chaste soul; 

the one who strayed; slaved;

she is the virgin; the temptress;

she could be corrupted;

yet she could corrupt.

she is the charmer;

face that launched a thousand ships;

adulteress; the one who turned to stone;

she-devil; witch; slut; whore; 

she who gives into temptations easily; the immoral bitch!

she must be forced to believe and give in

to the existence of the decree 

of the rightful ownership by Phallus 

of the Virgin Hole, as the final law 

that exist anywhere over the land of the earth.

if she resist,let she be conditioned until she becomes righteous again

if she resist still;
she must be ostracised from the fold

and if she resist Still;
she must be sent back into land from where she came once

with others like her, whose unholy blood still reeks from all of our hands.

For this is the everlasting truth;

truth that have been the same since the birth of civilisation;

truth that doesn’t seem to change.

and here I stand at the cusp of human capability

the so called modern man; the king of the earth

ever so persistently exploring the universe

the most intelligent organism yet known;

yet my hands reek of cold blood

yet the Phallus controls me

So am I really who I think of myself to be-

Civilised and Free?

The Black Lodge

Under the sycamore tree
Where the music never stops
I met a little man and a giant
not long ago from today.
Their faces were made of masks,
the masks lied on the floor.
The floor was a molten chessboard,
Smudged by the perpetual heat
which the infernal floor breathes

Somewhere now afar,
The woods whispered a song,

In the voice of my estranged lover

And the red curtains fall

When the lights are drawn
The music continues playing
And the show goes on.

The men spoke at length,
In an incoherent tongue

The dwarf jiggled while they spoke

on the sound of music that played

From a place that seem far away.

And with him, the walls of red doth swayed
As nonchalantly as the little man in the little red tuxedo.

Perpetuity was actuality

And music was as much repetitious

As the gyrations of the little man.

A woman,
dressed in darkness of a moonless night

Came from behind the walls that swayed.

She whispered in my ear,

'There's a killer on the loose

He resides within these walls of red.
We are all his prisoners;

Trophies of his loot,

We can't leave, we can't breathe The air,

beyond this Black Lodge of nightmare.
He eagerly awaits your audience
And the one who brought you here.'

So I walked through the floating red wall-

Into oblivion

where the Master Puppeteer dwells.

Here, in this land of eternal sleepers,

the music stops, at last.

When the creatures from the end of time 

ascend from abysmal low
to take away my shadow

leaving me behind, lone;
ready to be served
to the Master of Souls.

Inspired from the last episode of David Lynch's Twin Peaks.

Strangers of the Night

We walk through time,

as night descend under our eyes

We see the world from a place afar. 

this is where horizon blurs, you told me once.

this is where I found you once.

we chase the greys away,

two strangers of the night.

as we swim together through time's fabric

reminiscing stories old and new.

the world, in utero of oblivion-

of the strange alchemy of words;

of desires; of uncharted wishes;

of the ocean of memories that we visit.

two pilgrims on a path astray

waiting for the rebirth of night

waiting to be lost and 

to be found, once again.