Epilogue: The Defense of a Rapist

I write this in gay abandon,
Not with a heavy heart or a sense of guilt;
Only to settle the score it seems,
So here are the facts on which my defense is built.
It was on that fateful night of December
That she tactfully let her ‘chunni’ slip – exposing her cleavage,
Such an exclusive show by one, who usually veils her face,
By its overtures put my gonads in rage.

To be doubly sure I pulled my zipper down,
And revealed to her what was tender, most protected and limp,
But which hardened quickly under her unflinching gaze -
As it sank in slowly that she’ll neither discourage, nor appease.
Of Course I appreciate the defense of her lawyers
That at times she develops a squint;
That her heart is not where her eyes are and vice-versa,
Besides being a Lady she never looks beyond clothes.

After that I retain just some images – of Draupadi -
Which she was not – for she shared with none;
And of ‘cheer-haran’ which did took place -
Or was that a foolish gopi playing by the beach;
Of a certain void on her soft-n-smooth fullness -
That challenged this Krishna to make her full;
And of my thrusting on her as she lay sprawled on the ground -
Resigned, helpless, exposed and still.

Don’t shun me as a rapist – I did everything to the book -
Of Nishkama Karma and unreciprocated love and playful attitude and eternal bliss.
Convict me if you want – but I’m clever in my craft -
And have subdued her silence with my poem’s force;
What more punishments can you possibly inflict -
Don’t I have to live with the memories – of ‘that sex with a corpse’?

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Sonnets, Sonnets Everywhere

Sonnets, Sonnets Everywhere,
Not a song to sing,
The words – they pierce, and shout and hound -
Why don’t they music bring?
So stop this foolish, idyllic scream,
Of crying about that and this
For each poem kills the heart that singth -
Some with a bang, some with a miss.

Spider, Spider churning white
His web is more deadly than his sting
In summers and winters he found an easy prey
Will he live up to the challenge of the spring?
For sonnets are made sweetest
By those who can never sing
And to comprehend as a poet
Requires a little suffering.

So UP, Up my strands and quit your hooks
Or surely you’ll go a bubble
And loose yourself in the intricate design
What need to coil and double?
So where the art is without tear
And the sonnet doesn’t lie
Into that stream of consciousness, my lord,
Let my creativity die.

If you ask I’ll pen a few more lines,
And for love there’ll always be room,
You ask for some more sonnets,
Sure; but sonnets for whom?

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Seasons

The winters may be long and chilly at the start,
The longing for the spring, keeps warm my little heart.
The spring, almost forgotten, is vivid enough to tease;
To promise orchids on harrowed soils, if just on a few days lease.

The summer presents a mockery of all that spring did offer,
But for all its burns and strokes and the feeling that it’s all over
The hangover of spring makes me plod through;
How can I feel the heat when the heart is cold and blue?

It’s the spring that makes me scary,
For if ever it should occur
That spring shines with all brilliance
But to me it lacks all color,
Then what could fill the emptiness
Of heart that cannot see -
That’s without desires, illusions,
Embitterment or glee.

So promise me sweetheart, that before my love depart,
You’ll be out there, ready to break my heart.

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Venomous Hiss

You can kill me with a glance, your sweet smile cuts like a knife
So if you really love me my darling-
Just get the hell out of my life!
But if you do decide to stay you’ll regret it for life
For you don’t know how I want to love -
How I want to kill without a knife!

Your games are sick and disgusting,
Why pretend to be generous and kind
If you think you can win over me like this
You are seriously out of your mind!
For in the guise of a lover,
You’ve only smiles and glances to play with
And in return you’re satisfied with sonnets and words,
Gosh! You make me sick!

Do you realize you’ve robbed me of what I had -
My earthly pleasures, my eternal bliss!
I hold serious grievances against you -
Do you think I concentrate and aim – to miss!
If you doubt my intentions or feelings
Just listen to this venomous hiss -
I’ve waited for long without complaining
Its time I got my rewards, Miss!

Give me what was always mine and I’ll forgive you Gee Whiz
If not a warm embracing hug, then at least the Goodbye Kiss.

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If I ever gotta kiss you

If I ever gotta kiss you, I’ll choke you to death
And take my sweet revenge for all the times you have held my breath
I’ll crush you in my arms and squeeze you tight
And I don’t give a damn whether this is wrong or right.

I’ll live now that no more I have to lie,
I love you that don’t mean I’ve to bit-by-bit die.
It was impossible to hide what the heart did cry,
I’m filled unto the brim; I can’t let this moment slip by.

This suffering is so real, consuming and true
It’s not hard to see why I keep running from you!
The fetters were always open
Why don’t you get lost and fly
I’ll at least have my freedom,
I’ll not be sharing my sky!

I’ve honestly tried to cajole for long,
I don’t want to now start acting sly,
I love you my cruel darling,
So ‘Fuck You’ and ‘Goodbye’.

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For The Last Time

My Vocabulary is limited,
My symbols are few,
My themes are old and rigid,
Only the permutations are new.
The sea of miseries, the violent tides -
The islands and the fish
The seasons of the torrential spring -
And that unfulfilled wish.
The broken hearts, the thwarted loves -
The sacrifices and the victim.
Only tears to offer in the garb of Love -
About twinkles my sonnets are mum.

This conjuring of images,
This magic of lies,
These pretensions of suffering,
These moth-eaten cries
This self-referential framework,
This indulgence in craft
Aren’t these downright disgusting -
Do I need this Anguished Art?
So today once more, For the Last Time,
I’ll pour the venom of my heart.
And get rid of these symbols and themes -
Which have become my cancerous part.

But each time I cut a chunk of my heart,
Hoping to be light and gay
Each new sonnet drags me in its viscous net
And I’ve more and more to say!

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The Sinking Of the Titanic

What happens when the titanic sinks -
Forging gaps and breaking links?
Does the curse of history accentuate its doom -
And the rocking grounds tragic memories groom?

You say you are just onlookers -
But your heart does beat!
Can the same be said of me -
The captain of this fleet?
Can my heart dare to beat
When my ship has just sunk
And I’ve just woken from a sleep – badly drunk?

From the warmth and comfort of a cozy star-board,
With masts and sails steering towards a port;
To be thrown in the cold and stormy sea,
With just my arms to help and guide me
Towards whatever my Destiny be.

Surely Love’s Labor Lost should have made me cry
But I am soaring like a bird in the lonely sky.

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