The Lady in Black.

Her tresses meandering at the reach of my far fetched thoughts,
where my head wandered she lay swaying her mane,
bewitched by the darkness, I never have been,
that darkness, I say has an aura unseen.

She is darkest than the darker sins
that my darkness has taken me,
Shes holier than the holiest skins
that have donned the higher being.

Her head is high, her voice is low
as incantations of her spell,
In her own deep throaty echo
she says it all, she says it well.

I know her now, I know her not,
I see her now, I see her not
she takes my pride, she takes my blames
I hate her now, I love her the same.

She dwells in the most wise of thoughts,
she lingers in foolish emotions,
she is the steadiest strengthened rock
and the sea that lashes it in commotion .

In fervor now, In my sense
In consciousness , in in-cognizance
the insider and the outsider
the bounded one in the wanderer.

I see the fading, spells of black
I see that silhouette turning back
I see a shadow in colour,
in the the silver of a fringed frame.
I know the flesh and scent of her,
and she says none could spare a name.

Drama and the Drama Queen.

I know the Drama Queen who has been swaggering around, her exclamations aloud, her sobs are the minimalist version of her emotional flamboyance. In her more vibrant moods she would give you no less then bouts of giggles and soprano laughter in a falsetto that would give the opera singers a deep beetroot tinge.

She can pout, snob,bitch and she'll don all those props with elan. You would stare at her vivacity and the liveliness of the act that she can put up and be amazed at the theatricals that are involved in the frequent enlivening of her moods. The autumn at play changes to spring at it's awakening and the winter if comes is no less than grey. Summer soot and sultry and she would playfully change the season of these expressions in a rush on a face that seems overcast with multitudes.

I do not trust her act, It's too loud for my taste. Like a cloying perfume that encapsulates the atmosphere in it's own fragrance , her skills manipulate them people into believing her and the calamity of a situation that she portrays. I look at the haze that spreads as the dust particles are scattered in the spotlight that is now fixed on her but do not let myself be blinded by her antics.I wait for the lights to dim, for the show girls to settle and for her to stand in the dimming light and then I walk up to her, take a closer look.I'am amused at her candid candy floss, You get what you see talks...and then quietly decode them into my own version.Sans the superficiality it makes so much more sense. She's just a girl, which one of them I am torn between them. I'll decode my self.

Precarious: Why chances never die.

    

Precarious…we are
you and I
and the dim possibilities of us
as precarious
Chances have dwelled on every breath we take
and possibilities in every thought we fake

With the uncertainties and the dwindling minds
and what all have you left behind,
My unwavering reluctance
and the whiff of penitence
every time I let my face touch the feeble winds

Like a tropical current ,
my back to the strong push of its flames
aah..another precariousness has built up.

Still, there are probabilities untamed.

 your deep silent games,
 a shallow understanding of you
and then we drop a few names
in the small indirect words, impromptu?
Threats to each other, reminders to our own
of what can be and what shall not be done

Precarious it is, how we can fall back
the lines shall remain and the limits tied
we glance , we glare,
what difference does it make the
indifferent stares?

Now we resort to humour,
we jest and we laugh away
the peculiar tension is softened between us
precariousness still stays
laughter subdued to grins
and you carefully pick a hint,

Enough has been said
manipulations aplenty,

Now humiliate each other

Rolled eyes, and embarrassing questions

Let’s treat each others as commoners, we are supposed to be

You are no god, and I no divinity

To each other, though we remain unapproachable

By choice of course, to each other.

Now we have had enough,

Let’s wedge the differences.

Let us lie, not say what we mean

and live in ignorance,

 Phenomenally we disappear

in thin air,

loom large over each other like a haunting,

 people around are now more interesting

Precariousness, are you dead now?

Over a round table, we have had negotiations

We have tried to do away with the mutual enemy

I have fought it with silence, we have fought it with words,

Alone and with a force of an army

We have aligned our wit, our thought our mind

and precariousness has hit back with an unbelievable force,

So mighty? That I resign.

Let it be am I the traitor or you, the intruder

It is here and here it is, still binding us .

 Keeping us afloat in each other.

Alive or not dead enough.

And so we go in directions

And the take the bend that comes back, in hesitation,

Precarious, strange how chances never die.