Excreta

Silvery night
awestuck moon

gets out and coils
catharsis of being

darkness inside
gasses and molasses

here it comes, there it goes
rising of solar plexes
oblivian of pleasure, pain

perfumed with grace and talcummed
perfect symmetry of being
a chamber, a machine; it's by-product

it seeps into the ground
turning around
character and form
grain
juicy fruits
eating; getting in
shitting; getting out

silvery night
awestuck moon

Her

pensive probing peaceful eyes
seldom reveal their violent disguise
and when they reveal their pain, it captures
whomsoever sees them with rapture,

when they leave to not come again,
all the pain lies withering one insane,
to catch their beauty once again,
one has to come out being insane,

thoughts wander with a glazy surmise,
when you remember those pensive probing peaceful eyes.

Ship's tale

Ship struggles as the storm asks,
how long do you to plan to fight?
How far would you go,
how long ?..Before you drown in your own plight ?

My nature is to swim,replies the ship.
That which makes me grip,
the rising waves which intend to make me trip.

As I will go on and on
with all your efforts to stop me,
in vain,
at the end of my journey, o' monstrous storm,
what I'll have for you is nothing but disdain

Finding sanity in tumultous times

Finding sanity in tumultous times,
often snuggedly discloses the rhyme
when the times cannot be more violent,
as to see this sublte mime
to get the taste of sublime .

Yamuna's

The river was my life

lies it putrefied in my veins

now.

I tendered to its wants gloomy despair it reckons

how.

of filthy deeds of man's

blind creeds love sans

slowly as I watch the river die

I ask why

should I not be angry

for the very progeny engulfs the progenitor

senseless choices beguiled by vanity extreme

the river was my poetry

it's contours my prose

not will I watch this amiss too long

man will pay for the deeds done wrong

for I, the nature, will not spare those who inflict, conflict and destroy this prose.

Blender's Pride

On vision of revision

and transmogrification

dwells the true bliss

like maceration

which reveals its true nature

when the time delivers it justification

of one s strength, his character and doings

when in unison, reveals the true taste of ones conception,

to stand tall and strong

one should also be willing to go wrong

to be in the hands of corruption,

and this bliss is for those

who acknowledge one's inner deception

as with time's justification

the true taste would recieve its standing ovation.

Keeping the Devil alive

keeping the devil alive

green pastures allay your eyes

of the deeds promised, of becomings super size

true it does help to quench your thirst

at once in a while escapades

but it does not suffice

should you dwell in it at length

strength

is a balance between the corruption of the mind

and minds ability to find

the resistance to fight that very much defines

the essence of you which is good and bad

too much good is not good

and the same story for bad

its the fight to tame these forces

that defines the true lad

for it matters to be equally good as bad

and for the industrious mind to chart a plan,

to conquer this great crusade in this bee hive

for once it is essential, for the sake of good

in keeping the devil alive .