Random Babble

Its been a long night. Not that I no longer love the dark companion in pain — it has its shades written all over on me — I just want to have a peek at a ray of light to distract myself to life, if there is some, that is.

But wishes wont do it I guess; I’ll have to find a bit of kerosene and a burning matchstick to flame this round mass of flesh that keeps writhing inside the cage of my ribs.

It wont be easy to bring glow to a charred existence; I’ll have to keep stoking me within to do some life.

Random Lamentation ..

To be honest, I staggered midway through this poem as to how to go about it or how to give it an ending which am not at all satisfied with what it has got but I had to finish it to feed my blog hence its being posted.

On another note, the theme of this poem may not be appropriate enough to complete my 200th post on this blog but its how it is; my life, my blog. Hope you’d tolerate my excessive outpour of pain and its dimensions.

No signs preceded the tempest;
the sky hid secrets
under the hoax of clear azure

before it split
to inflict a fierce pain-storm
upon me.

And wells swelled with every
step you took on your way
back in your sudden defection
from my chest.

The tides rose
to blur the dreams
of islands in my eyes.

Like a boat, severed
with torn up sails, I float

on the whims
of wild winds intent
on giving me the torture
of your loss
before sinking me deep
into obscurity.

Cherish, Not Consume

In obedience of a caprice
you tore apart the wrappings
(textured with dreams)
and got hold of the essence;
a red, throbbing, present
that I sent you
quivered with fear.

Your erstwhile slender fingers
(that often mingled with mine)
shaped into piercing claws
as they clenched my heart
and held it to the Vampirish teeth,
(smiling, symmetrical)
which sucked it in your gluttony.

The urge to feed on love
manipulates your lovely features
as you move from sanity to craze
and crave to devour more.

Gifts are to cherish, not consume
for the reservoir might run dry.
Preying on others’ emotions,
to satiate your self-inflicted hunger
may weaken you within
and I don’t want you to crumble.

Thanks For Not Loving Me …

Not getting
the reciprocal love
could also be
a blessing;

I can’t thank you much,
for, how would I’ve resisted
the pull of your quagmired
affection, had you shown some?
And I’d have lost
to you, all my worth;
the concern I owe
to a world dying
below the poverty line
of love.

Though its hard to tame
a fretful heart
craving to taste
what it gave.

Yet, the pain of
your separation
doesn’t kill, as such,
hence ..
I can’t thank you much …