Fly Him Away!

Fly Him Away

Fly him away sweet love of his,

They have clipped his wings.

Heartless monsters prise his flesh apart,

Through which they manducate at his bones.

A rope have they set around his neck,

Limbs dismembered, mind entangled in their fingers,

He will soon breathe his last.

Fly him away on your angelic wings,

Wait not for the time,

When to colloquy, becomes loathsome,

When to love, becomes a crime.

Cogitation to breathe is quelled by dismalness.

Though he becomes a corse evanescible, 

His asseverations will echo in every inch of her veins,

Till in the next life their love is sublime.

That Drug! That High!

That Drug! That High!

He sees things they say aren't there,
He hear voices that are clearer than theirs.
Faces that do not belong near him,
Bodies that are unique.
They said its a condition.
He now call it a blessing!

He took the road of being high all day once,
To make the faces disappear,
To silence all the voices.
They wonder why he's  so quiet.
He still fight those voices, those faces.
And those demons too that trouble him.
They put ugliness to shame.
They gnarl and snare at his head,
They alter his thoughts with their sweet voices.

Not a drug had he left unattended.

He was named 'The Chimney',

"Boss, try this new one!"
 He did them like there was no tomorrow.
He would lay in ruins every night,
Burning his earnings in smoke.

Yes he quit it! All on his own.

Its all the mind, in that 'condition',

Its all in your will.

He has seen many faces,

Beautiful and angelic.

Yet when he sees her face,

She gives him that same high.

She is that drug he's been waiting for,

That eternal high he craves.
He looks at her and his eyes are crimsoned,
She rolls not only her eyes but a joint for him as well.

He sniffs her scent and it shoots to his mind,
Making him beg for more.
Will he be left wanting, craving?
Will she satiate his soul?
Will she come and take him away,
From these demons, from these voices,
To the place they are meant to be?
Or will she run away like they all did?

Wait!

Wait!

Every tick of the clock is an eternity,

In that eternity are many lifetimes.

And in every lifetime are countless moments,

That is what they feel without each other.

That is the extent if their love.

She has been faithful to him,

Waiting these eternities.

A line of suitors is a begging, 

Yet her love for him abides. 

His hands and feet are tied,

His mouth bound by his predicaments.

"Wait," he begs her.

"For the tides are still high."

She turns away, thinking he lies again.

For all he has given her are his words.

Words that she cannot build upon.

Yet these words are all he has.

They are pieces of his soul,

The soul that longs to be with her.

He struggles and battles his circumstances,

Hoping she will wait,

For true love knows no bounds,

Of time, of faithfulness. 

He Lives To Hear The Winds...

He Lives To Hear The Winds...

The winds howl from between the trees. The leaves play a drumroll before slapping his face. He sits alone on a desolate island. Lost to the world. Lost to his love, his Queen, the Queen of the world. Cleopatra would shy away from her beauty. 

She has travelled to a far land. A land that flows with milk and honey. She sits on her majestic throne, surrounded by her loyal subjects. There is an abundance of food and wine, of laughter and happiness. Yet her heart is weary, for it beats for a man not of her stature. A man who loves her passionately, yet cannot be with her. It is a test of his love she tells herself. And though she commands the world and it's gods, they do not bring tidings of him to her. The gods are enraged at him for not loving the Queen like he should, like the Queen deserves to be.

The island he is stranded at is at the edge of the world where all is in chaos. Many a times has he tried to escape it, but the tides throw him back onto it's beach. He even built a raft, but the god of lightning struck it, burning it to ashes.

He is clothed in the skins of the animals which tried to kill him. Creatures that he had never seen before. He fights a new monster every day with his bare hands. There was one with eyes all over, with many hands and horns. He killed it, plucking out its eyes one by one. In that battle, the creature wrapped it's poisonous tongues around his hands and feet, leaving them green and blue. The poison is creeping all over and soon it will be the end of him.

He now limps around the island, eating the leaves and berries if they allow him to. For they are controlled by the gods. These gods do not kill him, nor do they let him off the island. Death, they say, will be a relief for him.

It either rains hail on the island, battering and bruising his body, or the sun scorches down, making smoke rise from his skin.

They gods do wonder though, why he doesn't end his life. Every day he attempts to flee the island and fails. His health and strength deteriorates with each step, every battle. Yet he is unnerved.

What the gods do not realise in their anger, is his love for the Queen. He lives for the winds to bring her tidings, a word to strengthen him, to tell him of her love. But the winds only bring her tempestuous words, which tell him of how fatigued and spent she is of waiting, of what she thinks are his lies.

He hears the winds, for atleast they bring her voice to him, though furious and displeased it may be. The sole purpose of his existence, of him battling the gods, the elements and monsters is, to hear her voice. He lives to hear the winds...

A Beautiful Angel!

A Beautiful Angel!

A Beautiful Angel crosses my path.
With tresses black, kissing her fair skin,
She eyes me over and over.
I wish not for her attention to end.
Though in my heart I know,
She is royalty!
And I a pauper.
Is she not fitting for all the riches in the world?
Yet these riches do not interest her.
Does she not put all beauties to shame?
Still her humility is boundless.
I would gladly serve her till my last breath,
And be by her side forever.
She has kept crossing my path since,
Igniting a love for her which abounds.
I do not wish to tell her of my turmoils,
For she should only know happiness.
My heart wants to hold her hand,
Till the pulsation in our hands screams,
Deafens us with the profession of our love,
And that is all we hear till infinity.
In a state of disappointment is she,
Her wings have become heavy with pain,
Receiving not the love she has merited.
How shall I explain to her, my beloved,
That I am hers till the end.
Rest assured O Beautiful Angel,
Soon the thirst of your heart shall be drenched.
Rest assured O Beautiful Angel,
I shall come to take you one day,
When I have built our chateau!

Come To Me!

Another mistake have I made,

Yet again have I faltered!
A rudderless ship I sail,
With a stormier sea than before!
A scent do I breathe,
That fragrance do I so well know.
Through the splashing of the waves,
The thunder and lightning,
The drumroll of the rain,
I hear a voice I have long known,
Its melody does invigorate me.
"Come to me," he said says!
I look around and see him,
Flying high above the dark clouds.
His wings larger, his light brighter!
He guides me through the storm,
Battling endlessly with the hail and the wind,
He beckons to me.
"Have I not taught you my son,
My God is bigger than all storms?
Do you not remember you are my son, a fighter?
These storms ate me not, and neither will they you!
Fear not for I am with you!
You are my child, my fruit.
My God will protect you, wherever you go.
My light will guide you, my voice will lead you!
Be not dismayed, for I am with you until,
You too receive that coveted crown,
And join me here in His Paradise!"
He flies away through the clouds,
Making them separate.
The warmth of the sun rests,
On my drenched body.
My Lord, my Liege,
I thank you!
I see the shore,
My home, for now my Paradise!

Soon It Will Be Mother's Day!

Soon It Will Be Mother's Day!

Yes that day of the year,

Surely comes to us near.

Where accolades and salutations,

Are showered with resolutions.

To honour the most important woman,

God has bestowed in our humble lives.

She may be strict and scolding at times,

Yet bore you she in her womb for nine!

Imagine then the pains of labour,

The life which grew inside her,

Comes out now with anger.

She nurses, nurtures and cuddles,

Her child, her world, her all.

She cooks and cleans and earns,

Yet only a day she is given.

And not a dime for being a mother,

The toughest ask on this earth!

Wait not for that day my fellows, 

For everyday she deserves love and honour.

Everyday should be her day, 

Lest the rest of your days be,

An aftermath of pains, sorrows and regrets!

And remember this my friends, 

No act of yours will repay all that she has done,

Not in a hundred lifetimes.

I pray may you not find yourself asking,

What if I had done this.... for her?