People go for Girlfriend
I chose to write
Folks use weapon for defence
I have a pen for fight

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Another heart shatters, in silence.
The crow gazes on, with madness.
An asphyxiating hush envelopes
The impecunious 'basti';
Yet, the sky is embroidered, with blood.

-

Will not you?
Won't you dare spare me
Some speckle of affection?
A morsel, of your regard,
Is all I mean to seek--
Not much, you see;
Just that diminutive blip.

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Tonight my heart

Wants to come out

From the veiled verses

Of my poetry,

But remain there wailing

In the folds of the

Crumpled photographs.

-

My sleep always dominates my desire
But my heart still believes in my pen;
What naivety is this!

-

Serve me desolations
In the midst of spring;
Let's test our abilities.

-

Lend my dear
few morsels of grain
from the shallow fields
and feed with it,
the hunger of
my bruised soul;
Maybe then,
the drop of love
will drip down a circle,
to radiate the muse
onto these parasites
in shades, once lost.

-

Try not to lull,
Oh the pretty ladies
The crazy consternations
Hanging in the aura of a poet,
Like the scents of annihilation
Dripping from the chill of summer.
The poet-- ugly and pretentious--
Will offer you nothing
But volumes of misery
Written with some faithless reeds
Soaked in his dried up blood.

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The obscene syllables
Of your parting shots,
That you pasted
On the endodermis of my memory
Like the stinking blood of dead vultures
Haunts my peace of mind
And keeps alive
The screeching of my pen.
I would otherwise have,
A long time ago,
Broken its timorous nib.

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MAD RAVINGS

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