Mornings

Every morning
is a sadistic thing;

the sacred mystique
of a dream
is stripped naked
by the sharp claws
of the sunbeams.

Every morning
is an incarnation
of a human being
into a primitive beast
as the stories bark out
of our tv screens.

Mornings don’t keep
the night’s promise;
they are the worst shoulders
to cry on.

Mornings exploit the dark
knowing not
the tables
are soon going to turn,

come dusk.

In Love For The Night

Slumber in the shades
of your locks is naivete
hence I walk deep in
to the core of your soul
to heal my dreams away
from the piercing claws
of the sunbeams.

Night, o’ night,
why can’t you fight
that big, burning beast
who gnaws at your dark self
bit by bit, reducing you
to nothing.

Unlike you, I won’t
expose you to the perils
of the day; come dwell
in my craving chest
till you gain enough might
to wipe the false purity of white
off the face of the earth.

Vanished Romance

When the moon feeds
on the residue
of a dying fireball,

I replenish my thoughts
with the wicks of a zillion candles–
extending from the canopy
of a dark night

before the moon is blindfolded
by the beams of a rising sun,

and my dreams, crumble
in the working hours,
snuffed by heavy feet,
rushing to make ends meet.

Candle-Life

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Eager to erase
the gloom, I share
my wick with
a flaming match-stick,
and a fire engulfs
my very being.

The ordeal eats
me bit by bit as
I shed silent tears,
yet I’ve no fears
of the devilish dark,
for I can last till
the onset of dawn.

People will bask in
the light, come morn,
oblivious to my
ashen self.
A martyr who fought
obscurity will remain
obscure, unmourned.

Photo Courtesy http://www.flickr.com

An encounter

Last night I saw a full moon

embellished in the jewelery of gold,

upfront in a backdrop; black,

as it poured its beams

which it deemed right

to negate the dark.

Intent on hiding the truth

an evil cloud threw a curtain

of gloom over the face of the moon.

It wasn’t yet doom

as I could see some resolute

silvery patches resurfacing

the murky scene

every now and then,

before burying deep by the

vastly obscure skies.

The clouds laughed a malicious thunder,

while someone shed tears of sympathy.