Stitch into my skin your perennial bouquet

Feed me a transfusion of the sun’s bronze blood

Adieu to the winter demons loitering in my dreams

For cupid simmers in an amorous stew it seems

Commandments say to not thrash the persecuted pulses

Convert the leather lash into a benign bow

For do not become malleable to a hag’s sources

Fix the cupboard unhinged by my manifestos

Mother’s basil scoffs in juvenile rebellion

The only flora to scour the dullness off my dish is you

Captain, when sailing into the lustful waters of sirens

Do not drown in their blasphemous cues

Find me soiled in the moors, hemming the stems

For no coward can climb by conforming cobwebs then

Anchor the boat at the underground’s port and transcend

My pitcher awaits to cure your dehydrated den

With the erosion of time creases colonize our countenances

Recollect the monochrome films, anoint the bristle

For when our lids seal with immortal paste

My wax will hold the weight of your handsome flame

#poetry

I sit in the lukewarm water

While the clouds indulge in a siesta

And the sun bakes the backs of toddlers

As their starched dresses and ties

Mingle with the playground’s grime

I rip my pearls

That choke my lungs

Wanting out from the glitter and gloss

To be the lamb once pure

For I strayed away from the herd

And wrote a new manifesto undeterred

I drink my salty tears

When he is not here

And can’t bruise my locked door

His cologne can no longer disguise

His blemish that eats inside

I rinse my scars with citrus

When my body aches severed ties

A monarch rules my peasant skin

She holds a gun point blank

No longer at my face but at her grave

Now I wail in woe

Every friend and foe creases my curtains

I bathe my body till it decays its desire

To be stuck forever in this no man’s land

Let me be drowned and damned.

Her eyes gazed through the iced windows in dire need of insulation’s caress.

Those eyes, oh gleaming with hue of the Caribbean waters, rested on the pane and in awe gazed at the full moon postured in the ink-drenched sky speckled with nocturnal stars.

Sick it was. It needed the holy water of its father to cleanse the toxic fumes polluting its once contagious glow. Those toxic fumes—the byproduct of beheaded sheep frolicking in the mansion of a capitalist Mongol—broke the strings of the girl’s once melodious heart too.

For what did she do to deserve such thing? She was not vainly draped in the fine silks imported from an Eastern hailing ship anchored in foreign fog. Nor she dined in gluttony on the burnt thyme seasoned on the rim of a Lenox plate. Nor she overdosed on the lies of tinting her god-given flesh with the manmade chemicals concocted with the generosity of tongs and test tubes. Nor she faked her charisma to win the smiles of other phony indents on the face.

But she just existed—existed within a mere existence—floating in a never ending limbo that after every attempt to jump out of the window and resurrect the moon with the dew of her honey coated lips, she was struck down by the lightening bolt thrusted by an angry mob all dressed in fine linens and suits—reformed in face yet departed from doctrine—glued to the screens whose artificial rays were the only illuminating source to their vacant eyes.

She was the product of other worldly sorcery the mob said—formulated by a drunk chemist they said.

Lost she was.

She stirred her own stew as they writhed and screeched at her sight.

For it was sad that a girl and a moon faced persecution—survival of the fittest they said, as they—cannibals—devoured her now charcoaled heart.

I thought it was love

Like when I crushed the raw grapes and made it fragrant wine

And when it touched the rim of my deserted lips

The futile plain blossomed with buttercups and limes

Its kiss was tasteless but its promise was sublime

That is love for me a pauper in disguise

Marmalade and marshmallows

Are sweet to me

They pierce my tongue in pagan frenzy 

Scorching and searing my tastebuds, 

Torchbearers bowing to Hestia 

Prancing in circles, thumping barefoot, soaking in suds of nectar

Marmalade and marshmallows

Dissolve into my bitter cavern

Where slithering dragons and demons lurk

Spewing curses and creeds 

Sanguine fluid harassing my inner sheathing

“Et tu brute!” in unison my voice chords ring

That tinge of glucose

now fledglings to a diabolic scheme 

No sweet can efface the unhallowed

For behind every sugar coated masquerade 

Lies a furrow of deceit