Thursday, August 12, 2010

The Seventy-second Matrimony

She was standing waiting there in the dark
Beside the mute and indistinct lamp-post
The one she has called her own
But tonight he was very late

With cinematic sobriety she has painted her flesh
Her profusely powdered face with surprised lips
Blemished in animated maroon to hide those scars
Like pure white snow soaked in cola
Her hands armed with a wifely satire
Her clothing undaunted and wild
Like secrets polished on a carnival
Perhaps proclaiming a desperate fancy
For a random man who pleases to unravel her

By now she has found a vocation
Leaning by the stunted bewildered lamp-post
Like a daughter lingering on the arms of the frail father
Waiting to leave with the bargain groom

Tonight will be her seventy-second matrimony
As she awaits in silence with her feeble father who
Offers her a faint silhouette on the broken pavement
It’s all this father can gather for her nocturnal dowry

The night passes by with its insane autographs,
She observes a gust of air waking the stray bitch
The count of the newborns from the night before didn’t match
The mere thought of the loosened ones coming under a bus
Speared her for a second, her shadow rippled

Squeaking street-rats fighting for sorry crumbs is routine
Tonight they reminded her of the siblings –
Consuming her world with their eyes
A constant adversary till she was seventeen and free

The second window on the right of the balcony suddenly lit up
Two hands picking a tumbler lingered for a moment and vanished
She detected a tidy figure behind the balcony curtains
A face, faintly discernible, was observing her stillness
The outline was unmoving silent and secluded, like men,
Her nightly patrons who leave silver-linings at the end
She couldn’t stare back or pierce through his gaze
He disappeared into reality leaving behind the same darkness

The abnormal night in all its acumen played on
The shabby father she leant on was run over
By an endless army of silly diligent ants
She moved her posture and eyeballed this army
She chose an ant that was speeding down just like her
Kissing every other night on her way down

She greeted the rest of the night with a lonely sob or two
And walked into the dawn listless and uncertain
Perhaps her seventy-second was God himself
Consummating those vows deep within

Copyright BluEJoKe (2010)

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Ever Unconsoled

The joke ended tonight with a statement
So gory unrelenting and sordid that
It stole the last vestige of hope
From the ugly clowns soul

The farce had a girl and her life was painted
The audience and the fool knew the end
But he still wanted to dream a dummy passion
So real that he would talk to her eyes when delusional

The satire was enmeshed with sunshine
And perhaps with an incredible intoxication which
He sought in her eyes and which resembled a love
That never ringed a silence in her prison walls

To sin is necessary, to pray is vile
An agreement to love is disastrous
Like brokered fate and lyrical tyranny
A rattlesnake inhabits his emptiness now

Copyright BluEJoKe (2010)

Friday, February 5, 2010

Come Home

I drifted along the row of crocodile mud

In there lay hidden basking little crocs

Growing green by the minute 

Then they leave for some dismal illusion 

For faraway shores seeking lazy waters, 

Golden streams and cradled meanders, 

Riverbeds of diamond rocks and stray lilacs

They seldom come back to their moist roots

The ones which are wilting and concerned

Whose ripples hardly reach those dreamlands

To call the loosened to come home

To live our old muddy waterbeds again

Where you were brought up till you barely trot

Copyright BluEJoKe (2010)

Monday, January 11, 2010

The Kiss in Time

Piercing the life out of the glass window pane

The bottom-left of the skeletal four-square
It flew right in from the smoky outside

With a lazy swish and the music of broken glass

The ravaged wreck of a home shivered once more 

As the world outside, in all its astute wisdom, danced

The bloody foxtrot melted hearts and reared 

A final fall from an infatuation called peace

That which came in in mighty ferocity

Could well have been a sorry crumb

Painting life on hunger inside these usurped walls

But crumbs these days are hardly passed on

Lost in the crossfire of the life and death of power

What came inside was an uncharted splinter that

Kissed the year-old toddler in a fluky frivolous frenzy

The mother, already lifeless, hung on the couch

Her eyes, annoyed and unmoved, ogled the bed

The weeping infant was awake with hunger, 

And alarmed at her furious gaze he thanked the splinter

And thus ceased life within those needless walls

With this miracle of a God-sent kiss

Copyright BLueJoKE (2009)