Tiny Beads

The tiny beads of love thoughts
I carry with me
disbursed glitters to the winding roads
concealing crevices on the bend

The wind,
sometimes raging and disapproving,

it crippled me frequently,
dissed me upon the only path
left to choose where

no emblem of diplomacy,
no shade of candor.

Yet I mended my open wounds
from behind twinkling eyes.

Sometimes a stirring fowl
befuddled my course
to acquaint me with interchanging
silhouette of few human race

Grand was it all

...then cracking

When their entire ornaments roll,
glowworms spark atop
each and every wick of their soul.

But precious are the times
I stood on the cleave
and tiny bleeding hearts popped
with wings extended to move me.

These comprehend the mixture
of unspeakable emotions.

Another day is done.

The new orange-stang of air
consume my journey
back home.

Flowers started to bloom
-a suggestion of inconceivable intensity
to scribe a new conte in my heart

for what is most special and priceless
are the tiny beads of morals collected

sewed and arranged
to bond with love thoughts

a new armament redesigned.

Ode to my other half

humming rhapsody...

glowing hearts
flap

Essence set forth
granted smile

-a floral sail-

Interlocking moisten lips
braided vim and vigor
to the soft strain
of waltz refrain.

Mellow words divulged
are fondle to my heart,
awakening euphoria
nerves to nerves
to bones..

Flabbergast,
fair weather cottonballs
became perennial halo

You are...

Utopia-
the polished place at my eyebrows end,
sublime sanctuary,
equisite symmetry,

art,

an amazement made out of flawless nature
each awe connected to a preserved memoir...

an ad infinitum
delirium.

In the new Sloansville…

Outside the window

Your voice talks to me

Like serenading angel

My heart throbs

And blood flows

For the love of you

Blind of my love

That speech

Boundless art

As ballads of my heart

And sonnet of my soul

At that instance

You raise your right hand

And the moisture rapidly forms

On the beer can

While you tell me

Of how you bask

In the effervescence

Of my presence

In every minute of your life

And so I am to you

I watch your allure

And how the grandeur

Strings of time spellbind me

Seems like only yesterday

We were dreaming of this

Now at this hour

Now it is ours

Now here we are

For real

Forever. 

Speak Love

Speak love, do speak to me
Let this night be different
Speak words like melodies
Thy heart strings only play

Speak love, do fill this room
Which my sense could hap'ly steer
The remedies to every woe
This soul of mine could bare

Speak love, do play a song
Let's end this night with glee
Leave not this will of mine
For you are all to me.

My Blue Star

A single smile paints the lonesome night
Just looking up at you,
My bright blue star...

A knight to remember 
In a moment worth cherishing...

Bluish is the colour of thy stare
That pairs the alignment of thy kiss
A gentle touch of devotedness
Regaling the heart of thy flowering dear.

Your stream of beaconing glare
Repairs the blight of my simple world
Shine upon me with that smile so sweet

But oh the moss melted in lush
And birds chirped in the greenish blue

For such a love i get from you.

An Innocent Murderer

She has this look of innocence
lively and sweet equaling those teens
wearing the uniform of old universities

but before giving up completely
to the charm of this chick
the darkness in her souls shrieks
and peeps through her eyes
and to my surprise
i felt like my heart is being pulled from my chest
just as my brain penetrates the rotten memories
of her in the hollow darkness of her polluted mind,

disturbances of a morbid kind...

Visions of her lying on the pallid bed

that was soon covered with blood
cast by the distinctive lamp

nigh the large tooth grasping clamp
that brutally pulled the little one
from his legs, to his hands, and to his organs
(I think I'm slipping out of reality)

when his head was pressed thoroughly
to forcibly remove and shove
from all her rights to throb
and play with the devil and
to win back his "supposed" mother...

A mother engulfed with catastrophe

unwanting him and the memory
of the day she was molested,
abused, harassed and raped
by her own father...

A teenager, supposedly a mother
murdered her son.....
A murderer.

Light of Day

After the light of day
was swallowed by the darkness
and the little cheerubs,
our endeared babies received hugs,
kisses and were laid gently
on their equisite rooms...

Somewhere in India
there are vulnerable teenagers
screaming their hearts silently,
shedding their tears of fugitive cruelty...

one man after the other
ruined their innocence...

They are the abused teenagers
hidden within the beaming radius
of the NH-8 Mahipalpur
in the cimmerean shade of India

Yes, their will were cripled
such an unattered bleed...

Indeed...

The trick of the stinging fate
rivet them to the bitter whirlpool of hell,

CHILD PROSTITUTION...

and after the light of day cast
playing hide and seek on the frame
along NH-8 Mahipalpur
in the cimmerian shade of India still...

Only the aching  sighs from the sore faces left
To kill.

Ispired by:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/indiahome/indianews/article-2119845/Child-sex-capital-Teenager-exposes-horrific-child-prostitution-racket-flourishing-Delhis-hotels.html