The Kiss of Transcendental Bliss

The Sun. A Phenomenon.
A Solitary Ray
My Brave Burning Eyes
Are Watching Lights Astray.

The Prism. Cataclysm.
A Rainbow Disarray
I See Running Colours
And The Residual Grey.

The White Hot. Sun Spot.
I'm Having a Trippy Day
Closing My Eyes In a Trance
Forever Longing To Stay.

Golden Beer. Crystal Clear.
It Makes My Day
Hypocrites, All of You
Get Out of My Way.

Smoke Swirls. And Curls.
My Wispy Thoughts Fray
The Sand Inbetween My Toes
And The Cool Summer Spray.

Sea Breeze. The Palm Trees.
I'm Watching Them Sway
The Footprints In The Sand
Are Getting Washed Away.

I now pronounce you Husband and Whale

The clock strikes nine, and I’m doing fine,
But I feel chills, running down my spine

Things happened so soon, Damn the stupid moon,
Yes, you may eat my ass. Here’s a spoon.

I must confess, I didn’t think she’d say yes,
And now everything’s a bloody mess.

She’s a beast, and she’s waiting to feast,
Oh, why didn’t I just become a priest?

This really isn’t my thing, because I just wanted a fling
And if I try hard, I can almost hear them sing,

“Here comes the bride, 50 inches wide,
She didn’t fit down the aisle, so she came along the side.”

To the window I hop, it’s a 20-foot drop,
And while I search for some rope, I just stop.

We made love by the pool. She was really cool,
Oh, why do I falter? “It’s love you fool!”

I live ahead a few years, I realise my worst fears,
A 10-pound baby, constantly in tears

Oh no! I jump, and land on my rump,
I think I fell on a small wooden stump

I guess things turned out fair, I can still smell her hair,
As I carry her across the threshold, on my wheelchair.

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All written text is copyright of the writer/owner - © Arvind

Mighty Falafel

Half past 11, overtime,
I'm overworked, underpaid
"Why doesn't the clock strike sooner?"
I constantly whine

The most exciting part of my day
Is racing across the street
And grabbing that last falafel
Before the cart speeds away.

The elevator bell
I can't believe it still works
I must be earlier than usual
Oh, glorious falafel.

An empty park bench!
Why do I feel so lucky?
I check my soles for gum
A sticky mass I wrench.

Who is this woman? Why the haste?
I see through her clothes
And feel like a pervert
My eyes down her waist.

Unknown to the self, a tale is made
She's a part time hooker
Part time day, part time night
At least someone's getting laid.

I wake up from a sordid slumber
Did I imagine it all?
Who dares awaken me?
The mighty sound of thunder.

I stare from where I stand
Watching the midnight lights
On a murky lake
I see the shadows expand.

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Now playing: Poets Of The Fall - Carnival Of Rust
via FoxyTunes ----------------

All written text is copyright of the writer/owner - © Arvind

Goodnight, Tonight, Goodbye

Goodnight, Tonight, Goodbye

I hear crickets,
The crackling wood,
Clinking glasses,
I don't know if I should.

Unclear intentions,
Loving you more or less,
Il Fantasma Tra Noi,
He haunts my senses.

I laugh at your bad jokes,
In shameless pretense,
Pledging words,
That make no sense.

I know it, but you don't,
As we waltz on the floor,
That I already have,
My foot out the door.

I think I love you,
I should probably try,
But I want out,
And I don't even know why.

I search for the right time,
In between sips of wine,
Words, they spill out,
"My dear Clementine..."

I got what I wanted (I think...),
I even turn down your embrace,
I don't ever want to see,
Your ashen face.

I storm out,
Welcoming the rain with respite.
And silly crayons,
They paint your face white.

I broke your heart tonight,
And I'm acting coy,
Even though I want to scream,
Intoxicated with joy...

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NOTE:
- 'Fantasma Tra Noi' is the name of a beautiful song by Lacuna Coil.
In Italian, it means "The Ghost Between Us".
- The title of this post is an excerpt from the lyrics of "Apollo I: The Writing Writer" by Coheed & Cambria.
- This poem is pure fiction. Capiche?

All written text is copyright of the writer/owner - © Arvind

Anarchy! - A poetic rendition of George Orwell's '1984'

ANARCHY

The once great nation portraying a guise,
Under the incessant rain of revolting lies.

"FOR YOUR GOOD" - They said, they watched every room,
They funneled the rise of a voyeuristic doom.

- The philanthropic intention -
- Of a fatalist federation -

The left hand - Chaos, the streets it ripped,
With a good hand they wielded a formidable grip.

Their words - They bore a modicum of truth.
Promising infinite freedom for the degenerate youth.

- For regional rile -
- And the cities it defiled -

"Within these walls, you shall find,
The desinence of all mankind".

With those last words, escaped, his breath,
The pragmatist died a bloody death.

- We drowned him in a sea -
- Of calamity -

Fight fire with fire. And brick. And stone.
Let them realise we are not alone.

March the walls with courage and strife,
We will rewrite the chapters of our right to life.

- The puppets we played -
- On threads, Frayed -


- Arvind Ramesh
(2nd Januray, 2008)

All written text is copyright of the writer/owner - © Arvind

A Haiku Story...

I don't know if I'm allowed to (mis)use Haiku to write whatever the heck I want, but who's judging?!?


Hey! Stop judging!

Cigars, highs and everything nice

I see clouds of smoke
Smooth leather, mahogany
A burning finger.


The expensive suits,
Thirteen cars and eight chauffeurs
Money can't buy love


Strawberries & cream
Tender lips and two warm hearts
Just a wistful dream


The scotch is over,
The seconds hand is too loud
I am all alone


The glass has fallen,
The clock has struck it's last hour
Befriending silence.

All written text is copyright of the writer/owner - © Arvind

The Unfortunate Spider

There was once a spider that lived in a porcelain home.
Safe and secure in a big white dome.

Spinning his web, placidly did he sit.
T'was a pity I didn't foresee my emergency visit.

The deed had to be done, but I didn't want him to perish.
The dance of the spider, a futile fight to the finish.

I nervously withheld my breath, was he foe or friend?
I was already grinning, for the ordeal was about to end.

He held on to his ever-strong web, he was going to live today.
And I gulped as I absentmindedly flushed him away.

A sad day for all spiders, an insignificant funeral.
But that's the story of how the spider died in a Public Urinal.

All written text is copyright of the writer/owner - © Arvind