Dear All Women, You Made Me Write Again and Again
Dear all women, You made me write again and again
Not about beauty, not about beasts, but about my self
And the origin of my silence, snakes, silos and stillness
How much ever fast I ran, you caved my self, selflessly
I searched your depths in my gaze, in your glance, in our trance
But all fell out of shape, like a gazoid, like a river that speaks for itself
Your language of love, your symbols of seduction, your systems of life
These words may be pending for a long time, long due or long rustic
Poems are written, lost and left behind, same like the river of leaves
That gets rotten in the bread of brown grey wooden ground
I saw many roots, hanging in the wretched skins of my arms
I sketched wrecked ships of my golden past
Poems to pencils, Words to Worms, Purple to Pupil
All are an act of Engines of growth through the Pictures of life
Many roads covered, from love to lust, dream to desire
Arrogance to ambivalence, words to willows, papers to carbon capacitors
I still shiver when a pale glass window opens in front of me
A paper cup and a torus of ladders, they came back in time
And I stood by their wishes, their long beards, their stale wishes
Their history melt before mine, though I am alone, and they wander in mine
I have their fight in my mirrors, the mirrors that I name, call, scream and spit my gaze
And I know that they never shapes up itself
Dear all woman, I borrow your silence, your strength and your sarcasm
On my ways, On my days, On my rays, On my wooden willows of whims and wickedness
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Copyright © Gokul Alex | Year Posted 2013
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