No me. Know you.

with strokes of time,

masking the seemingly erased.

the brush overdoes,

the painting act.

so painted i was,

i couldn't catch my own glimpse.

so tainted i was,

i camouflaged with the criticism.

.......................................

same. yet not.

abrupt eruption of emotions,

painted by a handicapped mind,

on a canvas previously used.

And well.

...........

i BUMPED into GOLD tonight

lines that painted the pages of yesterday
in colours so blue, red and black.

of differences once known
of unlove once felt
of commoness once uncommon
of blues once reds
of blacks once invisible.

and then, a second of the past
leapt towards me.

held my unconsciousness by the neck
before strangling it hard and dead.

from the death of nothing
rose the living.

so mighty it scared the grey
manhandled insecurity
stifled the lifeless
stripped nothingness
and blurred the darkness.

my gold found me. Once again, forever.

...............................................

Two in one

those fingers serenade my being
every touch leaves a memory

with eyes that pierce my soul
he enters my mind with a silence, only i can hear

his skin reminds me of earth
dark, natural, sustaining

as he moved towards me
the earth bowed

as he came closer
closer i went to him

until an embrace found us
and our lips hugged

the world became a myth
life, mine alone

as we continued, lost
we found what we lacked.

........................

CANVAST

abrupt eruption of emotions
painted by a handicapped mind
on a canvas previously used
and well.

With strokes of time
masking the seemingly erased,
the brush overdoes
the painting act

so painted was I,
I couldn't catch my own glimpse
so tainted was I,
I camouflaged with the criticism

But a new passion was regained
like a new leaf
somewhat touched. somewhat pure.
I was stuck.

Stuck to redraw. Restart.

the brush picked me
fate became my painter
all negativity stood still
as belief poured all over me

now no grey shall intercept my colours...

Time is a myth. Every time.

The death is a man-made device.
Yet, out of control.

To this, the lord bears witness.
Ask him, and he shall tell, he never wanted the weak, the poor, the innocent, the unborn.

But the man inside us,
Does not stop.

It keeps killing.Beginning with self.
To an endless journey of brutal murders of,
Emotions, feelings, people and else.

With no formal decree issued against it.
Its sole saviour - conscience.
Also lays efficiently abandoned in the desert of life.

Sucked of love, searching death.
And then the soul dies.

But the man inside us lives on.
Unperturbed. Undisturbed. Unwanted.