Dream-Waves

" A crumpled-perfection sung
  in the lakes of mirroes and realities inundating
  call upon the farside of the swan that cries
  for her feathers plucked are better dried

 Cooked to eat yet not to consume
doth thy mouth hunger for omnipotence?
A dream to a believer and non-believer

why art though fancying the unfated transcendence?

And though thy mortal plains expire

and alchemy only rings as it had wrought before

thy curse lade in the flowered-snake

blooming poison as it pollinates the waves." 

Fugitive

" The fruit bore no ill
 yet caters man and woman's guided still
it pokes only twice; it's intercourse is foreign

yet it mourns the believer of the passionate course.

Why, why, why - all these 'why's erupt?

In the thickening deadpan day
the voices all listlessly sing in singular

the type of robot that is man

Am I a fugitive?

One breathes to tell

No not man, not man
Yet, yet all is well in the hellish Eden-land."

The Mystique

" She is iriscent in completeness
  yet glows perfection beyond perfection
 No passion leaves as she evolves still

 in a coccoon of human beauties and immortal wants

  She is far than the butterfly
  a firefly calls her egg of light
  she cranes her neck in serenity

  as she the awesome cradle of absolution

  It is by miracle I have her as a companion
  true manna to hold her at heart

 walk beside the maiden of moon and sun

 as she smiles though knows not the planet inebriates..."

You

You cannot realize that difficulties

cannot be solved with altercations

you stiffle your own heart

because you were mean't to fall

It is an illustrous game of ending and folding

no more paradise to entertain

no more last gaunlets to adorn

Is it the same?

You cannot change because you think you are evolved

Live in your passion of open-endlessness

The Tempo In Stillness

" Complete wanderies coil down merrily
   in the ardent workshop of enigmas and shadows
   light is too opulent thus shunned; walls is all maryrs of the philosophies
   Craving, craving, a word too unibiquitous

   Yet, desire, desire, to tame means exodus and anhilition 
   Oh woe, fickle is that stemmed virtue
   who cannot come, only arrives when not wanted
   A visitor in rain-drenched macabre asking too much shelter for asking

   Believe in thy wants, my mantra stiff
  As heart is mine solitary illumination 
  A friend only needed for the last
  My stiffness, my tempo, my goodbye maybe all too much wanting..." 

You Left Your Journal Open...

" You left your journal open
   'Tis favourable for red-curiosity
    thus I saw barred symphonies
   of the heart carved by vices and other    symmetries

  If you caused this quest
  If thou wished intimate-unveiling
  You have done the right
  The blood can never dry down

 You left your journal open
 'Tis my eyes hypnotic in thy words
  Oh, the tenderness of betrayal
                                                                                     sought hard to capture you in thy world."

This piece is something I did in photosop CS. I want to be a artist but as I can't draw yet but I won't give up. This is an abstract art.

Rupture

A soundless vocal of mis-intent
captured in the raw labyrinth obscenities;
cowering, calling, an excuse is rare
for the torturous hand one enjoys to situate.

Could it be that the love had descended?
Decreased, increased in a multitudes of nets
fortified, only, when a tempo arouses the flesh.
A dance so luckless, leaves all the ladies of fortune in unrest.

Why are you so potentially dull, distorted and ambiguous?
Pray, tell me so - let your tongue becomes senseless from fleshed-dances.
Had you seen or where you always this infertile?
So, I gather you rupture, yourself, around you, it is the suicide of living that fascinates you.