Tryst

Their eyes are glittering love
While their hearts drum the lover’s anthem.
When they get tired of spewing crassy sweetness
Their skins touch and rub each other tenderlyimagess5
In the popular lovers’ dance.
Battered by encouraged pleasure,
The sweet secret passion is climaxed
With his head resting on her breasts.
She’ll wriggle his ear with her finger,
Exorcising all pain and worries
Stashed under his flesh.

In small time though;
Flames to ashes the camp fire will die,
The moon and stars will be fading goodbye
And darkness will be giving space to light
Where these moments will be shrouded
In secrecy like the masks they put on
To hide their real faces from their lovers.

But night will liberate them
In the darkness again,
When they will empty the cages
Which hold their desires
And let their passion’s fires
Vie with that of their audience’ – the stars
As the kind moon tries to banish utter darkness.

Life After Love… (The Other Side II)

Have you ever loved someone
Who left you for another?
Have you ever had the idea
That someone loved you and it wasn’t so?
Have you ever been fed love deliberately
Just to poison your soul?
Have you ever been dizzied with an idiot’s ecstasy
And left by the sole provider?
Have you ever been hit by gentle bullets of tears?
Gentle bullets from your own eyes
Because love slammed a door at your life
With the fury of a thunderclap
And the powerful diabolism of an earthquake?

Well, I have
And it felt like the tease of the chilly fingers of death.

To everything there are two sides.
Amazingly, this is the side of the coin called love
Many neglect a look at.
So when you get that cheap but important gem,
Flip it and take a thorough glance
And might just come to see that;
Love is not so parallel to death.
Armed with the infinite power
To keep you buried as deep as forever
In the heartbreak cemetery,
You will become a living phantom.

I am,
And now I know what it feels like
To walk about with one’s soul in the grave

A Friend

… You want to know who I am….
I am a friend of yours back
In those shrinking days in your Alma matter…..
A friend who looked black but was white
A friend who didn’t fear the ridiculous eyes of the world he never really loved
A friend who was of the mouldering leaves of neglected shrubs
A friend who suffered a pleasant comrade deceit but for trust
A friend who thirsts for happiness
A friend who loves the soft flow of musical notes more than men
A friend whose heart still pumps the acidic past
A friend who reminisces those days of back stabbing and soul piercing laughter
A friend you made happy-sad
A friend whose happiness faded away with time just as beauty rusts with age
A friend who came to see farther beyond your masked smiles
A friend who suffered the potent arrow of your provincial clandestine
A friend….
…… Yes that is me – Williams