dream is a vagabond

in the after noon, at around 2 PM ,
the slit of the out-of -order windowpane,
brought, heat, dust and a gasoline’s stench.
crossly exchanges in the street corner,
cawing crows on electric crisscrosses,
down the crass,weary sidewalks,
the far-off, old cross, slanting in silence
listening to jarring, blaring horns,
when busty women crossed the road,
in the aftermath of a past night’s rage.
a stagnant creek’s fishy reek hushing
the grinds of the squeaky old cot.
guilty blemishes finding lame excuses,
through your sweat, lust and melt.
the pangs of my despair,
defused by the fangs of your shameless desire;
the walls of the dim chambers, stained by
your graffiti , recklessly smeared
on the buried barricades of my bared vulnerability,
with a dogged vengeance.

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The wind took away the words,
leaving a lisp,
for me to work out from her lips.
her eyes close to mine veiled the sea,
the sun sinking to hide the bare shores,
the silken claws of night breached the deeps,
the waves slitting down the pensive heaves,
shrubs flowered in the nocturne,
drunk with a sensuous cologne,
clouds cloaked a meddling moon.
words this time clung like a moan,
making the roar of the raging sea,to drown.
the hills closed in,
and the skies fell over our remnants,
with a few shells on the rim.

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the blushing ceiling fan
gyrates and takes off
silken slips, gulping the moans;
time, spaced in its
consistent thrust,
unveiling all reflections
in the transparency
of the fleshly frissons below.

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day burned into black smoke,
over the ground-rot, where cicada
shrieked amid frothy dirt,
under ruined windows,
reeking of aged spirits.
unchaste curves
in the crook of the slippery plot,
swayed with licentious shades,
in the alley filled with arid desires.
trapped mirages made vicious love
in the cellar of my lurid dreams.
indolent murkiness passed on
the aftershocks of the naked rigidness,
penetrating unyielding fantasies;
I heard the sermons,
from beyond the closed doors,
bewailing sperms squandering
away the cool night’s serene silence.

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Stealth walked on your carpet,
tripped over threadbare deceits,
swept under.
thieving night light winked,
at you, wearing jaded genes.
wicked excitement beamed
through windows of decadence,
with indulgent mischief,
as sneaking pleasure got entrapped.

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parched terrains gazed
out of robed attics,
night dissolving to blend
the naked black horse,
with the scent of black colognes,
stirring stifled cravings,
with a coil’s sigh, muffling
the neighs, over the fences,
where stripping snakes unsheathed
in the gaps of deep, curvy, designs;
chaste and aching, feigning inertia,
in rough , stubby refrain,
arid grass biting its indifference,
in to the burning hollows
of freak bargains,
to celebrate a celibate’s ecstasy
in a forbidden fruition.

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a mutant moon’s sordid prying,
behind murky moist blinds,
bared ruptured penances .
bated breath dithered the flames,
with the sibilant coil's touch;
as lights went off brazen longings.
along the vacant lanes,
silhouetted ruins
of sinuous desires loitered,
near the pane, with parted
red tulips drenched in luscious dew
gnawing at dormant dreams.
dark, amorous facades
unfastened ,unleashing
whiffs of wistful vapors
burning, voluptuousness.
eldritch light deflected off
carnal shadows.
then the blue moon’s prudery
obscured itself into a starless sky,
to become an eclipsed mind.

“These people abstain, it is true: but the bitch Sensuality glares enviously out of all they do”.

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The cow’s indolent moo at 11 am
induce multiple yawns,
the time, when lac-reeking envelopes and postcards
arrive at the local post office in my village;
the tea time luckily coinciding with,
to wash down hints of erosive eroticism,
inciting nagging lassitude.
Sounds of music, football, tops and marbles
and moss reeking breeze from the pond,
salvaged the moment’s catch,
at the critical time of 11AM
on a dull holiday,
cached in the hypothalamus.

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I like the dust on window sills.
I like it more on the windows of an old church,
an abandoned one if there was one.
Dust, the pristine remoteness of its virginity
rests in it’s attribute of ‘untouchability’.
On the altar, the idol,
on the archaic staircases, photographs,
vessels,swords and truth,
a covert uniqueness,
a positive imagination sleeps
covered, and in waiting.

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The distant lights grayed enough to erase the silhouette of the vagabond. Day -blind owl’s hoots falling on deaf ears. One fifth of his freedom became deafness. The tangible went begging for choices when abstract kept itself seated on a bench, in a nook of the square. Creation loomed beards in indifferent chins while autonomous nerves stomped liberation’s blooms.Knowledge became ‘heartbeats and respirations’. Clang of coins leaving just enough tang on the tongue, winding like vines to fasten tightly around the apparent. Snakes stay put in the holes as fearless wretchedness became freedom’s synonym.
Then the moon came out to shine on the vagabond.

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