Never Gone

Bardkobik

Tender caresses of pale sheets unseen, imagined

Scribe this poesy.

Scarce tears run down my counternance,

My heart is sparingly beating.

A funeral, tears;

A beautiful casket and wails in jagged unison.

The undertaker will inhume a source of joy,

I will be not at the inhumation,

I be not there at her piece of God’s acre,

I will be not present, wherefore;

If her orbs be lided,

Her teeth be liped

Or her visage be pale and tranquil,

I’d think it be wonted slumber,

And if her fingers be cold

I’d think it be chilly climes of the moment.

Thereunto, there shall be not the occassion

Of orisons for a retired soul then,

Nay not my tongue

As of the funeral priest

Or his mourning congregation dull clad.

I shall not descry or trust her exit;

That when I betake her abode

Her miseries and hopes will still be…

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Cleaved

My business was my own

And I took my strides alone.

On the dirty roads I walked and kicked stones

And my voice sang sweet and funny tones.

My intentions, innocent, hard and clear as diamond;

I sought no bond.

A small hand slipped into mine,

A small voice said my name; it was mine.

I thought it was love in disguise

But wasn’t sure what I saw in her eyes.

I felt I had found a haven to hide

And that understanding of me was wide.

The totem of our friendship dies

As I keep doing the moon walk dance

But I guess I did the best I could

And fed the friendship most of my heart’s sweet food.

Maybe I’m not the misunderstood but the one misunderstanding.

Hence, here and alone I’m standing.

Now I see it is not love in disguise,

It diminishes, I should know if I’m wise.

Love shapeshifts into antipathy

And I remember when our union’s progeny was healthy.

Maybe together we slit the progeny’s throat

But I remain marooned as you sail away in our boat.

I don’t know why I complain or worry

If our play has become tense and boring.

I had long seen in the book of revelation

The climax of my masturbation;

The engine of the train of friendship splutters and won’t work,

I must have finally shot myself in the leg.

Rage

Alexander,
Like the weather
Sometimes calm and steady
And sometimes rough and violent.
That thing fights him
With nature’s strength
And hurts the people he loves.
He fights it as a fiend,
But this fiend has been a friend from infancy.
Always making him cherish the illusion
That those he loves be dizzied with delusion.
It blurs his vision,
And paints his climax much gloomier.
If only tears; would be the precipitous
Effect of his overwhelming emotion
And rinse his pain at times.
If only the chagrin disposition were
Seen for what it is –
Ignorance.

Love Hurts – The Dialogue

WILLIAMS: Grandpa, the hurt of love maims

Any progressive thought in my mind.

I believe love is an incurable disease

Every human must strive to avoid,

Don’t you think?

GRANDPA: hmmm… convince me…

WILLIAMS: Ok, just you imagine you have a friend

Who knows not of your love for her.

She is your friend and you try to please her as one.

But… your heart doesn’t want her as such.

You try to love her less

But your heart wants to love her not so meagre.

And though your mind reigns,

You are barely sane and so you are hardly quiet.

And she comes to chronicle to you

The joys of her great love –

These are laps on the clock you desire of her she gives him.

How racking and maddening… but if only you could steal the clock.

Like Dorian Gray you employ a beastly wise

To hide your true face,

But there is that other soul in you

That longs to be seen,

To be able to share gentleness, kisses and touches,

To show her to a world she never knew or had…

But even the two inside of you can’t brighten the gloom

In the depths of solitude by their drama;

Hence quiet you shall keep so she’ll enjoy

Her bliss and you’ll enjoy your misery because you love her.

GRANDPA: Williams my boy,

That must have hurt whoever you speak of real bad.

Does love really hurt?

(He holds his chin and rolls his eyes thoughtfully)

WILLIAMS: You agree then… (He says eagerly)

GRANDPA: You’re are one wise lad so I’ll telll you this;

Love never hurt me; love killed me, love made me cry

Till I had nothing to cry as tears,

Love made me hurt till I lost my sense of perception,

Love put me down till… I felt immortal.

In the shine of my youth,

When I walked into the inevitable path of love,

It was renewing, refreshing, soothing and thoroughly magical.

Where else, in whom could I have known such wonder?

But in his world and in him – love.

My eyes and ears and all wit were taken

And an addict I became,

Because love was so strong and demanding,

So sweet and but turned sour

Just at the turn of a corner,

Just in the tick of a second.

There were days when she and I just…

Just loved, held each other close,

Kissed each other long, and our hands,

Lips, bodies and our hearts comingled into one.

But in one step, maybe a toss of a coin,

Possibly the start of a new breath,

At the lips of a car she disappeared

In her slow spreading blood

And I have been bleeding ever since.

Such pleasure I’ve roved

Through my years and can’t fathom or find.

Williams, love could hurt,

Love hurt me real bad but…

WILLIAMS: You concede then that love isn’t that flawless bliss

That the movies, songs, stories and poems

Make it out to be? (He interrupts)

GRANDPA: No!!!

You see, a day that never learns to break

Never learns to shine,

A child that never learns to crawl never learns to run.

It is funny how at times death will reborn you,

And how other times

The pain moulds you.

Now listen and listen rapt –

Love is never compromising but sometimes risky,

But living life and never loved to death is worse,

Is worse than laying your heart

To be trampled on by loves feet.

Love is so antique, a wisdom very unpredictable,

A maker misconstrued as a destroyer

Because of the mischief of kismet.

This makes one wonder if love even loves us.

But which science can figure that out?

And that is what makes love a magical flawless bliss.

Love could be bitter,

It could hurt you beyond repair,

But once you’ve encountered it you’d see

That it is sweeter than it is bitter;

That the sobs from your cries if you observe better,

Will realize they are disguised mirths – even the hurt is sweet.

Williams, (He looks him soft and long in the eyes)

Lose your heart son,

Just so you can find it.

Folly Of Men

I am sitting at my window pane,
People are running and not in pain

I am watching men revere rain
And forgetting the One with the rein

These men cherish the love of men
And growing the tree of sin and don’t learn.

But they still pray to be worthy of eternity.
God’s disappointment in this entity

Shall not trigger my surprise.
That I rue being a son of this race, not so wise

I wish I lived in erstwhile times
Like I wish eschewing living in these times

When the folly of men will pull down the world’s walls
In blizzards of wars,

Firestorms and sandstorms of dread
While men feed on kindred flesh as extinction faces bread.

In pale sheets, on the way to dust,
They will still covet perishable moments like of lust

Since eternity in their eyes is subservient to their fate as shadows
While herculean transgressions pile like an avalanche of meadows.

How It Turned Out

I beheld a flame in her twinkling eyes,

And this gave the sunrise.

Her shyness beckoned me

So the battle began in me

And enkindling my most feared of fears

By strengthening my hidden cares,

And making me relish freedom from solitude as the devil;

The reason for my prayers from dawn to dawn.

Now shall I call kismet the devil?

For from flame climes of joy pain is born.

Ere, my ice told, my heart lies.

Now I feel cold as ice.

If only the sun could melt the glacier I see,

And so I ask myself, “what did I see?”.

I Miss You

Suddenly I’m insuficient the man I used to be

And I’m not as ignorant as I used to be,

I miss this much;

I miss the way your raw naked voice attempts

To alter my mood when it is gloomy and stale.

I miss your ugly hand though unprofitable

Finding a way to fit my handsome hand.

I miss your sheen smile –

That which made me realize everytime you did

How dim the bulb is.

And AHHH!!! I miss the look-me-in-my-eyes endurance sport,

What a silly sport we played.

And I miss the feel of your skin at my fingertips,

A texture of wonder,

Unlike satin or anything I’ve known,

Just perfect it is.

I miss the inspiration born around you

That made my pen worble and speak volumes of poetry.

Only when you hug me is when I wish to be taller,

I miss that too.

I miss the instant collision of our eyeballs when I’m guard down,

Which gives a feel of gentle ripples in my spine

And sundry strange sensations caressing my innards.

And I miss that madening urge

To know the flavor of your lips

That could tempt even the blind.

I miss this way because I want to keep being the man I used to be.

But suddenly I’m not half the man I used to be

And I’m not half as ignorant as I used to be,

Because I miss you this much

But for the half days I spent with you in shadow.

Twain

As you my swain

And me your swain

We are two swains for one love.

Our heart beat one chorus,

Our minds think one thought

And our eyes see one love.

Skin to skin we’ll barnish every chill,

Hand in hand we’ll wade

Through the treacherous currents,

And beat to beat we’ll quietly enjoy

The pledge recital by the voices of our rejoicing hearts.

In the wild cadence of time

Through the surprising hypocrisy of this life

The torrent of our torrid love

Shall see us through.

For only as two can we

As one scare scare

And ease threats that will not be gone

Soon.