Duality Poems

I am waiting for a miracle. A miracle of meteorological proportions. A miracle whose atmospheric propositions would be large enough to render it, and anything appertaining to it, be it high up in the sky that ends it, or down

Have you tasted the silk in the pit of snakes? Exit was not in my fate. Winter was kissing my toes and spring was blooming down in my estranged poems. You don’t feel like to wake up for ingrained disbelief.

Rain, wet and unrelenting Sun, so hot and dazzling Dreams of misty, cool rain And rides in an air-conditioned train Skylines of harsh, cold concrete Valleys of lush, green meadows Thunderstorms over a thrashing sea Beaches of soft, golden sand

It is so cloudy, blue and black. If we could only see the end of the track. Heaven knows what we are likely to see. For what we really are is all we can be. It’s so sad that we

If I If I ventured in the slipstream Between the viaducts of your dream. I’m sorry. It was the only place I ever wanted to be. From the fresh breeze of a first love to a sonic jolt of oneness.

Stranger, why should I not smile at you? Why should we be entrapped under false separations of race, color, caste, creed or any duality? Are not we beings cast in the image of God? Is not all – one! We

Often kith and kin friends and relatives kids and aged would meet either in functions or in funerals of the dead The smiles, the laughs the Ecstasy the warmth, the affection are all there to be seen when participating in

As I look around me, The world becomes so different, So full of love, So full of hate Hate is hard to keep away, But sometimes it’s the only way The person who you hate, May have a perfect fate,

In emptiness staying aloof to set the wings free, a shadow self without flesh and bones to rip out the enormity of silence of words, cold in the face of duality metaphysical but of somber echo of tension between reconciliation

Hoisting the bisexuality on a figurine, I crawl back to anxiety. The primitive instinct was taking over the stitches on a snake. What do you want from a moon for the drooling mouth of a seashell? Braiding the breasts against

This was my book of pain with no ending. Life had two meanings- Anticipation of today, and fear of tomorrow. Time was running out like sand from fists, mists were rising, commentaries on setting sun had begun. Mind was calculating,

Meditating quietly, On the self within, In the serene calm of mind Devoid of motion or sound Every day, Like a vibration, With a speed of thought, I travel manifold universes & Beyond, Amusing my-self In various lokas¹, Ever shining,

The human? That is not a question mark, but purely a contemplative issue. Dilemma, bridge connecting light from dark. And timelessness, cocooned in timely tissue. Recumbent on duality of mind, pulled multiple directions by his cares, the human, guilty, slumbers

Light a sharpie so bright shines on beauty seen through decay. Both beauty and decay form a duality of darkness and luminosity. Beauty is a love that can provide for its reality against dismay. Just as tradition is a security

We, You and I, Are individuals. As individuals, Regardless of how steadfastly We assert individuality, We’ll either blend in Or be drowned in a sea of Excessively passionate individuals; Each uniquely manufactured to personify Their respective soul. We, You and

When I converse with him, He is high, up in the night sky.. It’s all about you and me, And about the silence that expresses the loudest thought that dwells in our mind. While shinning bright it does flicker at

Let your wings flutter for a while, you may walk,run or crawl but not to give a cry Shimmering stars will flirt with the young night but you may resist to hide in plain sight. The constant clutter of your

Exfoliated, I come to you, to scratch the blighted palace of the body, where a god lived once. Dervish, when did you stop whirling? The tomb is gone, the shroud tattered. I am collecting the withered roses. It rips open,

Among all there is a wholesome son. His name, we feel pride in, Shauryan. On 20 November was the jewel born. So precious that all want him as a pawn But parents not ready to give for scone. Without looking

Got struck on the spiky gate a half-eaten deer shattering the panther. Daggers were drawn. Terrier was in the glass house. Canine discretion to draw the blood between friends. A crisp murder of a terrorist. spotted face of the relentless

At the bookstore I found a guide Inside was a simple instruction. A funny looking diagram. I tried everything imaginable but still couldn’t figure it out. Flipping page after page, Telling you what I’ve found. The way the instruction was

She made her soda by the handful, three handfuls of flour, a pinch of salt, a pinch of soda, a half pint of buttermilk, from an urn, not a carton. She made her soda by the handful, one hand that

Last night you said you loved me But you still have feelings for him Well you can’t have your cake and Eat it too…it’s either me or him And I’m not gonna sit around Waiting for you to make up

THREE POEMS 1 NEW YEAR The dates on calendar question all my undone actions and memories that haunt or fade in nightly nakedness stumbling toward the next day’s sun without celebration at 65 January jeers my degenerating sex a still

It burrows deeper in the covert recess of pain, shunning violence of light: the epicenter of Armageddon, giving collective death to providence in a proxy war. The collasal gossip rests on the river of ashes, deflects the incredible starved children

Spring has come to embrace your cheeks Lovely breeze caresses your peaks Love itself comes and seeks Through out the days through out the weeks Permission to touch, submission to take The fragrance of your body to a lake For

I urge you, pry the quiet crimson open under the dying embers of the blood orange sky. Ragged words expelled in a breathless arrhythmic pause, coating the ridges of our raw and urgent tongues. We must intertwine, lip upon lip,

It gets harder and harder each and every year I return to the wall and feel your spirit near You went off to war and never came home Don’t know how I can go on and do this alone I

Slip in Lip may create crack in relationships Lip under control avoids misunderstanding with each other Lip when tight may create irritation to the other Lip dancing to others wish will Gel well with the other Lips when locked with

THAT NIGHT, THE LOSS OF LIGHT. Looking at the door, I saw you without your light. You were holding yourself, trying to be strong with all your might. I couldn’t stop you from crying and seeing you made me decide

Time is a fish bone in your throat you think it’s clear until you swallow your foot was coming along nicely then you stepped wrong not like when you were twenty you’d ignore it and shake off the pain time

Complexion and hair he possesses are bright We can compare him to a film black and white Nay, he has no cooling equipment at home Although cushion and mattress made of foam He is a writer and became my friend

Some days the roads will be rough It’s a sign that smooth lanes will come by There won’t always be a moon But stars will always shine in the sky Somedays you feel to cold But summer is just around

Once, eyes did spoke for the inner being Then, gestures spoke and the grin, Her words filled our vacant spot Then, actions did what words could not. Hoped to stay like this forever and ever With you in me, me

Much of withstanding endurance reflects strain Practically on outer edge for challenge to sustain Intricate arduous trudge sans time out for recess Blend though near perfect but outcome can’t assess Peaks few, abyss aplenty and many a shifty bend None

Out of the cleft lip comes a muffled voice on the turn of events, to interrupt a call. Then the panic rises, the blood was oozing from the larynx. The winding mountain path goes to the end of blessing where

If emotions were sounds, And feelings could be heard, What would be the loudest? And would some be unheard? Huff-puff, rattle, grunts and slurs! Would we just hear random noises? Whistles, whispers, shouts and roars! Or beautifully harmonizing inner voices?

She bore me Like a bud on the branch Jumping with joy with the breeze of life She nurtured me Like the gardner tending a plant And when I became a flower She laughed and made merry Drunk with the

Many of them wonder what I am dreaming of I am at the age when most of my life is behind me If I tell them the facts They will feel it is all an act I say, It is

I know not when I have to quit But I do know I have to quit Life looks so rosy in spite of me often experiencing the thorn Every morning when I get up I feel I am born afresh

Weighed by the weight of emptiness lost in the loss of music withering rhythm plagued sunshine silenced voice feverish moonlight shivering chirp moaning rain crushed smell smokey eyes creaking breath coughing air wailing heart choked feeling burning soul join mourn

We see good and evil in our world. To make sense of it great myths of the light and the dark have been born. Great stories down through the eons have flowed, great battles fought, forever being told. Gods in