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Poem
Did Shakespeare ever fall in love?
A rose by any other name would 
stink as sweet!
What would Y'eshua say if indeed 
Magdalene was his favorite disciple?
What miracles would he impress her 
with
So as to savor her forbidden apple?
O woman!
Is that why god made you last of all 
nature's enviable beauty?
If before he said let there be light
You were the first thing his devine 
eyes saw
I bet creation would have been a 
different theory altogether.

If love at first sight was a figure of 
speech
Then I swear I love you like a 
metaphor
And your smile is a typo
They meant to say a simile
I will kiss your face like a blank page
And my lips will be the tip of my 
pencil
Drawing drooling hieroglyphs like 
the hand of god
Inscribing Ten Commandments of 
Love
On the tablets of your breasts
Because my name is Moses
A stammerer on a voyage to save a 
lonely soul
From the shackles of cynicism
On love affairs.

I would love to laugh while making 
rough love to you 
On the dark floor of my solitude cell
Where torn pages of amatuerish 
poems lay as a carpet
Because you are my words:

Maybe your face is the sky
And your eyes are the stars
Maybe your laughter is a symphony
Of a million harps from a million 
virgin angels

I have written about love a million 
times
And still you remain elusive
A mystery
Are you an acrostic;
So each letter tells your tale?
Maybe a couplet or limerick?
Are you a sonnet? Or a ballad? Or a 
metre without a rhyme?
Maybe you are a mere syllable I 
mumble at every sudden orgasm.
Your body is a symmetry of regular 
ryhthm
Consumate from five to seven
And back to five
Haiku:
Japanese poets should build a 
pedestal for you
And all lustful lads
Should come and slink the slank at 
your feet
Indeed lady,
Your gait and pride and smell of 
shaven armpits and eyeballs might 
make a eunuch have an erection
And that to me
Is amorous injustice!

Tell me,
What can a scribe do?
When all I write about is human 
weakness 
And wickedness?
When writing to me is an escape 
from adjectives I can't utter over a 
cup of coffee?
To me,
The strand of your hair alone
Deserves atleast umpteenth stanzas 
of praise
A prerequisite.

If I say I love you
Will you giggle at my palpability?
Why bore you with parables
When all you yearn for is a touch
And forever?

I will say no more.
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