I go down now, thinking about my life
Thinking about how it could not suffice
My greed, my boundless wants
and all of my empty flaunts.
As the endless sea pulls me down
I wonder upon my death, will anyone break down?
Were my relations honest or were they false?
I believe I'll never know, as death and I perform a waltz.
I cannot tell what waits ahead of me
but I hope it's peace and serenity.
Plutocrat or oligarch
What matter the label
When his wife flaunts her
Mink ermine or sable
Is he evil
Is she cruel
Whatever they are
They’re nobody’s fools
with bliss at forefront
we take no affront
at barbs, jibes and taunts
of ego that flaunts
light in each node etched
our hand is outstretched
impulsed by heart thawed
as servant of God
betwixt bliss beat’s chime
we lose sense of time
dwelling in the pause
in sync with God’s laws
Real Tea
We steep it far too long,
lowering thermometers,
holding rulers to steam,
timing the swirl of leaves
in glove-warmed hands
in our cosie cuddled pots.
We revere the cup,
catalogue the aroma,
argue whether the color
means what we think it means—
what real tea ought to be.
Meanwhile,
the real tea drifts,
up and away
with the vapors
that escapes
our nostrils
inhalation!
Wandering off
beyond the grim
plain-glazed rim,
It flaunts its time
it chimes its rhyme
it grins at our
uncertainty
out of reach
of a real cuppa tea.
bit by bit,
itty-bitty—
sip by sip
slip by slip—
whiff by waft,
one leaf at a time.
away from the cup,
away from the tongue,
away from its solemnity
away from the label—
Real Tea!
It's Real?
This Tea!
It's Real Tea!
?Wisdom is a woman
who flaunts herself in silence.
She longs to be noticed,
yet she never begs for an audience.
She watches from the periphery,
waiting for the one
who truly craves her.
?You will not find her footprint in the dirt,
nor in the hands of the common.
She dwells only where she is prized.
Many have lost her by claiming her title;
many more seek her with blind eyes,
stumbling over what they cannot see.
?Some find her at the shoreline,
wrapped in the grace of solitude.
There, she exhales her power.
She moves with a mind of her own,
yet she walks in step with her Maker—
bound by the same laws
that govern us all.
.
not when she
flaunts front
mine
hern
bikini twine'd
channel 6
9
y
12
he'z not
complain'nin
he iz
sweat'n
One moment, bemused ‘tis in joy,
Next, dunk in grief, drained of all buoy,
And back again to moment’s grace,
Beware, this mind flaunts monkey face.
_________________________
Translation | 22.10.2025 | grace, face, joy, mind
Note: This verse is from Yoga Vasishtha, an ancient Sanskrit text wherein Rama’s guru imparts higher knowledge in a long discourse. As Shankaracharya, 8th century CE (birth: 788) said: jitam jagat kena? Mano hi yena. Who hast conquered the world? He that hath his mind. Here, he talks about mind’s fleeting nature. Transliteration of the Sanskrit verse:
Kshanam aananditaam eti kshanam eti vishaaditaam |
Kshanam saumyatvam aayaati sarvasmin natavat manah || Yoga Vasishishtha ||
Love walks away...
Day-in day-out on what heart wants,
Leading astray...
What heart needs, hurting what lust flaunts
Against heart's will;
Tomorrow shall find out the best,
Lust don't run still
To sustain beast; a trying test
That locks up joy,
Of unrest gauge- swinging heart's eyes
Like a playboy,
Whose smartness can't hang up late sighs
Wandering near love,
Enough to beat tricks; lust employs.
Quest seems a dove-
Taking love down on track, hade poise!
What is love's stake,
If life ends all dreamy heart, wished?
Lust brings such ache...
Upon all love builds long vanished!
Yet hope stands firm,
To conscious choice of what love hate.
Running off term;
All day long till nonsense negate
Lustful hope's time,
Reaching for timing, love would stop
Heart rating crime
Love negate towards been the top.
Wood polished so bright to mimic gold,
Its yellow coat glitters in the sun,
May even fetch a high price when sold,
And still be cherished in the long run.
Like a flawless gold that flaunts great wealth,
Its glamour, a pride to regal thrones,
Where most kings recline in pride and health,
Yet it's mere wood disguised as gemstones.
Great craftsmanship like that of goldsmiths,
Who shape raw gold to forge pure beauty,
So carpenters carve wood into myths,
Emblazoned pride into their duty.
What nonet flaunts its lovely derrière?
Then sings with sweet, buttermilk sound—
with shape fully self-aware,
in nine lines? Ass firm, round,
curvaceous with flare:
and so high, bound
for beach wear,
and found,
here?
she shows her battle scars and all i feel is numbness,
he flaunts his maidens and i overlook the dumbness.
she cries woes of heartbreak and i cannot feel pity,
he weeps waterfalls of failure and i fake some integrity.
she hurts me the most when she berates her busy nature,
he wounds me the deepest when he complains of his drained stature
for when all you've lived is a life of monotony
you start wishing suddenly for a lobotomy.
WHISPERED SHADOW
She flaunts her way into my mind,
A beautiful chaos, cruel yet kind.
A disaster to see, a tale untold,
A fire so warm, yet burning cold.
Her scent lingers both day and night,
A whispered ghost, a fleeting light.
Her teeth peek softly through her smile,
A charm that lingers all the while.
She drifts like wind through fields so wide,
A shadow that refuses to hide.
Her mind’s a storm, yet laced with grace,
A childlike wonder, lost in space.
She locks her heart, conceals her pain,
Yet tears still fall like silent rain.
In morning, evening, through the years,
She hides her sorrow, masks her tears.
A sorrow deep, a smile so bright,
A fading star in endless night.
As I depart, she breaks inside,
And so, we bid our last goodbye.
Puppies who rumble playing tough
Kittens who curl in balls of fluff
New born babies ever so small
I love these things, I love them all
Roses that drape over a fence
Pansies so bright, colours intense
Sunflowers? Yes, growing so tall
I love these things, I love them all
Robin who flaunts his russet breast
Sparrow sat brooding on her nest
The blackbird with his fluting call
I love these things, I love them all
Voices that sing, church bells that ring
Children who dance, the highland fling
Burnished leaves in the Autumn fall
I love these things, I love them all.
POTD~
In the misery of a paler grey nightfall
she blinks like citrine glazed along walls,
Ivy of Boston flaunts her shimmer without guilt
as palette of amber claims her lustrous glides
slithering with her bohemian lift,
rosette flesh blushing in chilled breeze.
Social climber this paramour, whirling
among plants wanton wild ,
trickles of mist freckle palms of curled leaves-
stem for stem-- translating the language of time,
of how branches relish herbage flow
as my wet hands paddle my dusky breaths
through mid-evening's freeze.
How her alchemy draws gasping sighs
more red than red could ever tease,
and that gypsy's heat...leaving mortals
in awe-...that her fluid pose seems to jut out
from a glass frame to rush forth with all
her womanly senses gushing, snaking,
writhing in the middle of ghastly, boney winter
meant to return on the edge of wild abandon,
enticing men with her faceted charm
never ever the same each time.
drizzles and sun
play songs at the ocean
with an umbrella dance
you’ll soon find
that rainbow flaunts
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