The kiss of the gentleman

Once a while, I would die for a love that is never found,
a love that is totally off the grid and celestially unbound.
We all thrive and live for that sense of peace in heart
and we never know who gives it away from their soulful part.

Here again, I drench myself in the grace of men
here again, my hypocrite self longed for the same.
A night went down with showers over the asbestos sheet
and still staying up are two drunken men taking over the tropical breeze.

They welcomed me to their laid out space with an apple in hand,
an apple so sweet and rare like the love they would show to make me understand.
A bite was all it took to taste the nectar of gentle and careful upbringing
and the fruity juice skipped my heartbeat and felt like a dawn bird’s singing.

My warm and subtle smile crept right into their arid emotional emptiness,
one of the other guy walked up to me and asked all about my dreams and hopes.
As I let him see the unseen glories and stories of my past being near naked,
he let out a smile that overpowered mine with a confronting vibe.

He touched my hand and picked it up close to the air of his grey and dark moustache,
he placed a dry and fragile kiss on my unprepared right clinched fist,
and the smell of the rum covered each other’s shame like a queen hill concealed in mist.
My guilt of being a man took abode in the parched up holes of his lips.

Here again, I found myself loved from the eyes and heart of a stranger
I wish I never find the same love to make my existence feel a little bit stranger.

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Don’t cry

Oh. The rage and furious depth of your eyes
swallows the world and everything it bears.
The blood shot curtain of white and red
are remnants of dreams that fade and die.
Why do you let go off the clinging tears
that hide behind the echoing beats of your heart?
Is that who you are? Are you subtle and weak?
For all we see is the strength you built all these years.
Do not shed and do not dread,
burdens and doubts are not yours anymore.
Friend! Rest now and put your whirlwind soul to sleep.
Infinite lives you breeze through are alive, not dead.
Let your quintessential self dance inside the cage
let the weight of your sorrow fall loudly down.
For now is when your path can change
and you are destined to summit the heights with rage.

Dreams for sale

You count your days till weekend arrives
with numbers that mean nothing dead or alive.
Friday’s breath sulks with anonymous joy
till Monday, and then you plunge like a crooked toy.

Tantrums and papers that fill your days
complete your wallets in minimal ways.
You burn again in that cabin-cage
with nowhere to run and hide the rage.

You wish you could do something else
where your mind relaxes and your heart tells
“this is where you belong to now,
this is what you do and love”.

Supple and waving your thoughts have been
like winds of nature nowhere seen.
Your wings will not be pardoned then
if you quit to fly and stay in the den.

Your dreams are not for a conscious yard-sale
your dreams are not so blue and pale.
And you could conquer your world when you wake up now
still doing the things with a glow when you do with love.