Thursday, March 31, 2016

Till life does us apart

Death my queen! My one true love!
I ache, I pine for your caress.
Your kiss, your womb, your earthy cove
Sans thought, sans word, sans distress

My thought, my deed, my destiny
all swirl towards your fatal end.
My song, it swells to an elegy
always always its paths thus wend.

Life, the witch, the faerie queen
She has me in her trance like thrall.
Lust and angst and hope and spleen
like whips they fall in endless squall.

Her spells, her charms, her lifeless art,
they cast me like a leaf in breeze.
I float, I flit, I drift apart;
a sinking boat in shore-less seas.

She keeps me there at the brink of death,
teasing me with transient joy.
I die, I die and yet take breath.
Now a man now just a toy.

But I live, I hope and fain aspire.
For you are there Lethe's,[1] draught.
In all my work and all desire
T'is is you, t'is you, t'is you I sought.

So make my bed, my funeral pyre.
Tarry not, my beating heart.
The end is nigh, o nigh, my sire,
T'is only till life does us apart.

[1] - pronounced lee-the (rhyming with pithy)

Thursday, March 24, 2016

Gods' death

I write a verse in bleeding red
The chaste god dies of lust
in the arms of the long nailed siren
trading principle for kisses,purity for pleasure.
Videha's princess is the forest queen
She toils in the day, dreams in the night
And at dusk strums the demon king's lyre.

I sing a song of soothing black.
The shepherd god never steps out of the sheep's pen.
He knows no battle, no stratagem, not a lie.
Herds in the morning, sings in the noon
and at dusk becomes hi beloved's footstool.
He ages, forgets and fades in oblivion.
He dies in sleep, a shepherd's son.

I sing a song of verdant green
The god of gods is but a grocer
His bounteous wife borrows to make ends meet
and loses sleep over her errant sons.
The elder is a glutton and the younger philanders.
Their home after all could be next to ours.

You, mortal, go ahead and
in the name of your god.

I close my pen and put it away.
Endless gods die in its stillness.