Okay, here's one helluva poem (o really?) i wrote some time back...
Order is boring.
Order is static.
Sticky
Symmetry sucks
Chaos! Damn it!
Algorithmic!
Algorithmic!
Poor creativity
Second-hander
Third world stupid bloke!
On a rainyday with my muse
splashing the water
with my foot
sweet mistress in her
bright red saree
following my foot
move about the light water
skipping pebbles of water
jumping around
like her laughter
fresh, wet jasmine scent
coating everything it touched
and the untouched
basking in heady urges.
the chair i was sitting on
dirty wooden colour,
old and pressed.
My white dhoti spotted with
sporadic wetness
crumpled like her fragrant
tresses
only not supporting the water
beads that roll along the curves
into my thirsty lips-
like an innocent cup that was waiting
for the elixir ever long
and the moment the drop touched the cup, it burst into innumerable ions
spewing ecstacy all over its body
coating with golden fluid the sky and the core.
Her bangled hand wrapped around
the pillar
stuck to it
her gaze down and lusty
black marbles moving restlessly
as if trying to burst out, break free
and run into unknown corners where
irresistable treasures to behold and hold
lay awaiting
thick framed glasses have become cloudy
drops trailing wet alleys
some standing, patient, tolerant, shivering
and some long gone, forgotten, not a trace
shadows move about
reflections on water
sound of the shadows
are all i can see.
temporary blindness, forced.
touch, smell, sound, taste
mixing into one sense of a dream
an illusion, deliriously real,
dangerously true
hearts thud louder than the patter
silence, the objects mute
blind, deaf...
if only a mirror could show what all it sees.
- theNeverKing, Hyderabad