Beautiful for you

I know I am beautiful.

Haven’t you ever looked at my profile picture?

You ignorant fool!

Haven’t you seen my beautiful eyes?

The curvy lashes blackened with mascara

and the blue lenses that hide the blackness in my eyes,

My powdered cheeks and my delicate nose

I just got it done up,

“a little push upwards would make it glamorous”

my doctor had said,

and the story of my rosy lips is famous all over the world

Can’t you see the natural pout I have got?

I am beautiful you know,

the most beautiful girl in the world.

And how is my body?

the silicon pride with which my breasts are puffed

Isn’t the cleavage grand?

I know you like looking at them

that is why I got them

and my nearing zero size hips

I have starved enough to get them,

and what about my tight, round ass

don’t you admire the curve?

when I move in my Zara pants

and my feet, well I haven’t done anything with my feet

I left them natural and the heels do the trick.

Then I have filtered all the imperfections left

thanks to the camera in my smartphone

to elevate my beauty, to make known

as I once knew, that I am beautiful

and I am beautiful now,

I am beautiful for you.








When a leaf drops dead

When a leaf in the winter night,

Pierces through the moonshine and the air,

And drops dead on the ground

Does it bear the cognizance of its death?


The sacred departure from this life

And if it does, does it hope for a beyond

A life after death,

Does it want another life?


And if it does,

What does it expect to be?

A man, a beast,

Or perhaps just another leaf on a tree;


I am dubious of what it thinks

When a dead leaf drops on the ground

Without a sigh or moan, in the winter night

Does it accept death as wise men do forever,

Or does it hope for a heaven, scripted yet unfound.


Then I imagine  the day I would drop dead

As a leaf does in the silence of the night

And I wonder if I would just accept death

Or beg for another life.


I find you

In the pause between my breaths

In the light that mirrors reflect

In the wind that swings my clothesline

In the very first sip of wine,

and the delusions that follow

I find you.

In the nails punched into these walls

the cracks that have appeared in the halls

In the veins of the wild leaves

In the horror of a banshee’s shrieks,

and in the secrets and stench of alleys narrow

I find you.

In the sails of a ship swaying

In the chuckles of a child playing,

In the breast of a Great Sage-Grouse

In the last heat of the candles doused,

and the adventures of Captain John Longfellow

I find you.

In the time between the new and old

In the difference between stone and coal

In the invisible line between right and wrong

In the times I feel I don’t belong,

and madness in these thoughts hollow

I find you.







As the sensual eyes of a passionate lover

Leave him no choice, but to see her face

The alluring shimmer of the summer moon

attracts me to hold its heavenly form in my mortal gaze


And shows me not just the light but the unlit part

As my senses transcend into a dreamy state

Where space grows bigger and all sounds become clear

As I stand hunched on the balcony

paying moon a hypnotic stare


And then all vanish in the blink of an eye

As does a magician’s trick coin

Accept the moon stays floating in the sky with

my soul swimming in its beam of light.





Fuck with Me

She holds Larry’s hands

And talks more to Barry,

It’s me she prefers to fuck


She eats her tiffin with Lily

And enjoys cocktails with Kelly,

But it’s me she loves to fuck with


She cries on Harry’s shoulders

And jokes with Carrie

But she chooses to fuck with me


She lives with her sisters

In a house that serves misters

But she loves to fuck with me.  

In disbelief

She accepted his refusal
It squeezed out all the passion from her heart
Sucked in all the life from her soul,
Now she roams zombie-like, undead
And the cold words of people don’t instil shiver in her form
The heat of jealousy doesn’t burn her gut,
Phrases of praise have lost their meaning to her
And now, she is as good as The Thinker
Who sits sculpted, contemplating a single moment
Of ache, loss, and grief
Unaware, of people, admirers and haters
She sits accepting his refusal
Like a statue of stone, in disbelief.

Situation called life

Every day I walk blinded
Thoughts like thick smog
Clad the light in my head,
And as the present turns into past
I lie in wait for the silence
To come and lay me to bed.

Every day pain comes
Like lightning crashes in the rain
Jolts me wide awake,
And as the day slowly transforms into night
I utter all false words of grace
Not for myself but for the world’s sake.

And then this situation called life

Repeats itself

Again, and again; and again.