Be my Woman

Be my Mother woman,
Borne me in thy womb.
Hold me in thy tender
Bossom, help me pass
The troubled times.

Be my Sister woman,
Hold my tiny body
Above your head.Dance
With joy for the reason
That you have a brother.

Be my Wife woman,
Love me till the end
Of time.Bear me my
Progeny so that I can
Become a proud father.

Be my Forgiver woman,
Cause slay I would
In your foetus,given
Half the chance
For a scion of man.

The Book of my Life

My life's akin to a book,
With all its boundless emotions
That holds within its
Dainty pages. The memories of
A desolate past. The
Reminiscences of a vivid future.
Behold the book of my life!

Many were bestowed with it,
Comprehended and embraced by
Myriad of omnifarious inamoratas.
But thou is a luminary amongst
Those faithless souls. Who once
Lost never to return again into
My tender affections.

Hearken O Princess of my unadulterated
Dreams, with each passing of time
This Book has died many deaths, be
The elixir of life and breath thou
Indomitable spirits into myself. Be
My angel. Whose Wings I promised
To hold ones for evermore.

Many of those ambrosial verses
Had been lost and numerous were
Torn. Write them O Princess in thy
Patois of endless love, and let thy
Bond of love cohere the weathered
Memories. Be the manna of my life.
And own me O my Princess.

What would it be like

What would it be like to meet you once again. Long after the Grim Reaper had wielded its scythe, after the dreams have come apart at the seams. You and me, so near yet so far. What would it be like to behold those alluring eyes, and then touch the tears inside. What would it be like to live those harrowing nights, to see you writhe when the fracas goes on. And you die a slow painful death every night with your heart bleeding inside you.

My life for you R

dear R,

you would be surprised to know that i don't remember you...that term is strictly reserved for the dead, departed, bygones, belated, extincts and forgotten...but you still live in me...

i can still hear your voice floating through the air to touch my face...i can see your dreams dancing with joy and happiness...i can still feel your touch of warmth, care and love...i can still discern your countless emotions...and i can still feel your pain...the pain which you shared with me...the pain which made you a damsel in distress...

but i hate myself for not being able to be your knight in shining armor...

you have gifted me with a bouquet of vivid memories...i would be able to cherish it even after i would be remembered...but i was incapable of dispersing even a single moment of innumerable beatitude...but you still live in me...cause for a king, you were my Princess...

and just like the Trashcan Man said..."My life for you Cibola"...

Lonely, This Christmas

I want to fly high,
Far far away,
A bit more further from
The maddening crowd.


I want to dream,
Of an oblitered nest.
Where once I roosted, for the
Warmth of her shroud.


That was then, when
Her presence was strong, but
Now the nest lies. Speaking of
Her absence aloud.


I have not forgotten you
R, Cause you are not gone,
Those feelings remains, in
My memorie's cloud.