The Geometric Progression Out Of Love

May 9, 2017

Tulip eyes, rose red ruddy rubber,

Band sticking out like that lock that she swallows,

In a bun like an old British clock tower,

Counting centuries rather than the prescribed hours, like

Kanpuri shoes, biting red betel nut dust,

Which tries to fly into her eyes shielded by sunglasses,

Colouring the earth like the pointed tip of a multicolour pen,

Scribbling some angry complaint aimed at those boring men,

While she is cooling herself under a banyan tree,

Cause it is uneconomical to get an AC in this part of the country

 

 

Write me a letter I will post it to myself,

A whispered magic ink letter where the words are jumbled

Without context, just ethereal feelings

With contractual beating and yearning that holds,

This part of the bountiful county of,

Reckless roaming desi cowboys so

Love me harshly, bitterly if you must,

I have been prescribed medication of such kind when I first saw you,

Make it harsher, deadlier so it may cure,

In its intense madness, the psychedelic musings

This madness of love  
 

 

 

So, let’s keep it simple,

Work it out via symbols,

A quick touch to the hand guiding,

Us to dark corners and other depressing romantic places,
 

 

Fiery angered river bed,

Reflecting the sun instead

Of soothing back water storyboards,

Touch me and my latitude,

Suspended on an imaginary plane,

Just like the real thing, never passing over you

Under sheets like funerals processions,

    Celebration to the passing of an era,

    Foreboding the decay of two bodies meetings,

    Quivering at the sight of each other’s vulnerability,

    And not the beauty of the naked brown mud sticks,

    Heaving, sieving a memory,

    Both will forget

 

 

Were we two parts of the same story?

Or two separate stories with one connecting line that by the error,

Of some stupid editor who was short on content,

Had to extent a three hundred word expertly crafted article,

Into a tiresome ten thousand-hundred-word essay to save white empty page,

From being accused of being left idle,

Pretty Sauvé nothing merryweather kettle.

                    Tea leaves shivering mirroring all the simmering tension,

                    M(g-a), we were lacking the joy division?

                    Love will tear us apart again,

                    Just like yesterday

 

 

Black raven, white girl, green haven, black raven,

Closed quadrilateral

Don't fly don't fly, yellow breasted, blue tailed,

Vodka scented livia,

Stay,

Captive in a captivating storage house,

Where the meat is kept warm by an afternoon sun,

And cages are held by expectations of return on investment

Cobwebs entering the windows,

The bedrooms keys missing locked and closed,

Hell is breaking water,

Autumn otters swimming,

Lost winter bleeding, breeding, breathing,

Coal fuelled sad song radios

 

 

Stay in motion static,

Our love is a hopeless cellophane man

Death is simply motion stop

Cut outs from this nation less,

Wordless symphony we all seem to know

Hymn me good night darling,

A look constituting that note,

We never sang yet we spoke,

Disjoint angry summer men,

Raining angry meditating,

On a figment of my soul

 

 

Hold fast Budapest is breaking up,

We are soviet casualties,

Freeing us, your redundant American soul,

Whisper wolves are coming close,

Death this moment we have chosen to look away my dear,

Myua!! C’est La Vie
 

Could it be that, we never understood what it was?

Caught in the streaks that erupt from our passionless love

 

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