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Ami

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Missing You

I passed by our favorite cafĂ© today morning  the place where food was uninspiring and the ever-smiling steward was Intimidating while nice, wanting us to leave as soon as we were done our strategy was different, however we couldn’t leave In a conversation vacuum
that place had an art gallery although the art on display was to an extent, incorrigible and dark, kind of clumsy or many a times, superficial the art gallery is still there so is the steward the only thing missing is you and me, talking over the same uninspiring food your voice was invigorating nevertheless
I used to watch you eat, while talking continuously those infectious voices loom large in my clever emotive mind the sounds of cutlery, the cafe music, the winter afternoons, your presence all of it certainly, in the complete histrionics Is what the heart transpired in all its innuendos all of the last month and more Your voice in all its trajectory leads me on to our freaking friendly banter
In the noises of outwardly di…

Gloom

Blueberries gaping out of a black and white mug
chiseled scraped clouds
dissemination of a halo
Gloom!

Persecution of a perspective
Shallow intercepts of void
the eyes don't pop up on wit
Gloom!

Smile or a facade?
promiscuous promises
no more churlish fantasies
Gloom!

With a bang of sorts
exuberance of a victim
vivid experiences of certainties
Gloom!

No voice that sounds like the ocean
a vacuum in reason
a virtuous moral man
Gloom!



Momentarily

Smoked eyes
gargoyle water
philistine slanderous thoughts
how clandestine things can be
how candid my mind should be travelogue shining out the senses
muddy decorum
shady deals of illicit dreams
desolate perfumed senses
overtly burnishing the arousal
on a dark by-lane of concupiscence my thoughts transforms you
from reality to an thingamajig
how powerful the need
crisscrossing from a overpowering lust
to a listless, emotive dissonance are you still lingering
you need to sift hunger from
a narrative of a daydream
and you will traverse
into rapturous being
momentarily

Is it love of a decadent kind?

The fact that deep down within me is a desire to be a philosopher doesn’t go down so well with what I feel as down and out human and I am in that mold now as I stop for a while and think of her
She makes me appear as a lover when we cuddle up our emotions together and in the hazy shades of the day when she needs to drowse the fires of her insecurities I become her mother I don’t think I interchange the roles by choice every moment is undisclosed and beautiful even though chaotic
When I dream of her we lose our inhibitions in the wildest of ways in the morning when I talk to her, I become her friend, again
And, I do not touch her but we bare our soul, as naked as it can be and just after that emulsification of minds I become her soul-mate never to be apart in a non-worldly sense Surely there is an attraction Sometimes sublime and immaculate sometimes too boldly honest Sometimes a sinful construct
When I am done donning all roles I am trolled as a mentor and a teacher but I don’t argue as every role gets me entwined in this all …

Greatness

At the moment
It was us
And the boardroom was quiet and quaint
Sober and somber
the quarterly results
well, what can one say?
And it thundered outside
the first rain of the season
as if seeking attention
from the people in best suits and manicured tongues
who speak their best, all the time
Suddenly, the chair got up (not the leather bound mahogany one)
and opened the blinds
the all glass room looked
as if it was surrounded by the beautiful shades of grey
dark, light, extra light, extra dark
and the lightning roared as if there was no tomorrow
and it rained with gusto all over
and there was a murmur of more hot coffee and fritters
the lady who opened the blinds smiled at all
the rains had the upper hand over the quarterly results
and they all went out and got wholesome wet

When we made love all afternoon

Innocently you had put the curtains on but you liked the Sunlight trespassing the monolith wall of your living room you had other plans to light a dim fluorescent light which made you look a lesser shade of pink or was it your boldness painted by a blush?
When i touched your cheeks to verify the pink your lips opened voluntarily not concealing your vulnerability and we kissed in reality or was that a metaphor hitting on my hallucination?
We probed each other and there was no diagnosis and no remedy