Bitter-sweet

The steam from my cup fills my nose
Bearing the aroma of cream and ground tea
Raindrops splatter on my sill
As other “characters’ suddenly...grew...still

Peace stirs too filling and animating normal fingers, normal thoughts 'n' a busty heart
Raindrops splatter still to remind hearts of the newness and richness of flow
Slow-ly defining the reason for rain; washing aching shoulders, soothing congested thoughts, bathing feeble knees rocking... to... n...fro’

Chirping, crowing, quacking all heightened and aired as a choir
Gathering sounds of soul and culture fulfilling my moment’s desire

Surreal moments brew reminding me of ......
I’ve received your message, before the alarm screamed two!
SOMEONE shook my bed! But it was only my little sis’
Pondered on the word that somehow rhymed with...
Thought of a symphony and sealed with a....tinge of bitterness

A crack of light bent through my door
I squinted my eyes and your message touched the floor
i turned to assimilate other verses leaping to a clue
and rest...my washed soul...mouthing soft whispers of... “I’VE MISSED YOU TOO”

Liberty

My steps drew near the “form” locked, erect and focussed
Every staggering step reflected the shivers of a different soul
Cold, lazer penetrated, but certainly supported, magnetized,
monopolized by the air of difference
A different kind of difference; organised and purposeful

I pretended to ignore the realness, sever again severed strings, tug again at strands of pre- combed hair, scrub walls that linger the stain of pungent memory
Then to reality again, I moved... once again ...taking with me his silhouette
I wouldn’t forget....I promised myself...to record this moment
I wouldn’t ignore....I scolded myself, what contributes to my liberty

2010...

Fingers twiddling in awkward synchrony

Twist and turns in subtle epiphany
Moments escaping as fast as idle thoughts

A separate dimension, a separate world, a separate spoken word
Legs shift with lies
eyes peel with cries
Demise....an ellipsis for lengthy thinking
Fingers clutched, thoughts sinking

The moment comes but still a stone
I’m here but if you pound my toes you wouldn’t find a bone
Alone...and grinding against the ridges of too much sunshine no! too much rain
Maybe both...wishing for more in betweens and the smother of unusualness
Liking the scent of normalcy
but too much of one thing is good for the cemetery

Breaking point...

Quarter now but destined to rotate revealing once again
It’s cutting brightness, separating two worlds
But connecting them yet again on a level ...subliminal

Another verse, another poem
When would the madness end!!!!
Like the sun that rises in the east and sets in the west
My thoughts are renewed, my limbs are able and my clothing without intention but continues to root reason:
For question, for conversation, for explanation

I’m overwhelmed not by the things I wanted to be gullible about
Not for the plea of need “reflected” from your eyes
But why you never fought...for me...
Why!... ATLEAST the weave of friendship didn’t reflect ....and why “they” termed it “lies”
Cries...now screams transformed its volume silently

My chest palpitates rhythmlessly
My feet fit into “prints” that were held in perfect condition
Prints of past; I’m reliving a life to my own “detriment”
Anticipating my “death” to be risen from the ashes once again

My question is “how many times must I die...to you?”
What are you...if not my friend...?

Salon...!

The chill of the evening air circulates almost unconsciously
to commune the characters of the atmosphere

The moon is ideally in its premature phase but bids souls alike to be matured...in time, in memory, in harmony...
Characters in company, imbibe the rise n fall of moments in glee, short smirks, few frowns as the air fills my lungs!

My knee! touches the surfaces of a cushion demanding 3 bills!
1 for the fingers tugging my hair and 2 for the fingers wallowing near...

Consequently, growing numb ...i don't care where...the moon turns
or how the air thickens the follicles of my nostrils!

I'm imbibing now the corners of my own world

Biting my lips not to spilll worry
stretching my legs to relieve tension
closing my eyes to surrender....
the tubers of anger
and bud new colours of glee!!

the salon and me...

la musique

Saxophone, trumpet, drums....the 'Sombah'
The beat....builds and builds...sticks enclosing in their diameters on flat steel
The curtains are blown, with the minds of musicians, the souls of listeners
tap...their...feet..to...the...beat
spinning...smiling...clapping...rocking...enclosing....
Picture perfect
and memorable

Trumpets sound their rhythms, i kicked some bags.... grinning
as they switched... from classical to jazz
my thoughts are aloft competing with other 'soar climbers'
Piano....oooh.....my skirt spun in swing of rising excitement

Fingers, masculine...collage?.. the nape of my neck then travelled to meet with ripple nerves slithering, too, to the base of my torso
the moment's aglow, two...smothered in gusto
no clue....only spontaneous
the rhythm contain us, INSANE US, sweeping duss'
off the floor then the roof

The tempo rises to a sudden stop!......silence ........................................................
with it went my flare...mental flare...moment's fanfare
My shoes swayed with my knees, then shoulders...
puppeted, only, by memory
my eyes...communicated inexplicably!

I grinned, leaning my forehead on a familiar shoulder
now calm, in synchrony, truth ?...a monopoly

For after all, the world was 'forsaken' the music had taken....us
through a moment's..... dance......

RAGE

Pungent now, staining and infecting all surrounding
An entity of unresolved hate, unquenched thirst, and fire inextinguishable

Influenced but rejects for selfish gains
a 'fixation' subtle within a character that overshadows
not even mammary hands can mould it
she screams to compound, she pushes to bully, she withers at the mere release
of TRUTH

The truth hurts
"blood' flows and heats to meet with an irrational heart
sobbing to generate empathy
sobbing to attract mercy
and to its fortune, disembodied hearts melted and fed

These hearts, though relentless to past happenings , bears the fury of the repeated, the overly endulged, the bulge of discomfort, the 'lump' of a product selfish and pompous

my 'judgement' may be draconian
my palms moist of the 'unspoken'
my thoughts perhaps connected to the undisturbed, unbroken bloodline
but my intentions are contrary and passive-aggressive

until i'm weary, this shall it be !!
until i'm weary, this shall it be!!