Unceasingly Poems

I Want that World

Her throat is a reliquary of shards.
Every sob races through burial yards.
Her words erupt.

Surgeons laced her scars not the stare.
Scalding eyes ignited the trauma's flare.
Sympathy was bankrupt.

Someone baptized her in venom
the spit of patriarchy, cold and solemn.
Faith turned abrupt.

Sold over counters like candy for cowards
Hurled like rosewater, laced with hazards.
A love-rage concept.
She didn’t get strong but radioactive
Unceasingly culprit and the captive.
Conscience stayed corrupt.

Law wore stilettoes for penance
Verdict tiptoed through violence.
Mercy collapsed disrupt.

Tourists of virtue post flash ads.
Empathy filters through grief pads
Healing cycles interrupt.

"An eye for an will make the world blind"
I want that world..
where no one sees a face and think its mine,
where no one falls in love and claims it like land.

Let blindness bloom in the rocky terrain of laws,
where suffering is measured in grams and minutes.

She was light, I was glass, a reflection of the rays passing through me

She was light, I was glass, a reflection of the rays passing through me,
A dance of shadows and glimmers on the surface of my cracked heart,
Perhaps I wasn't the purest altar, for something in me always resisted,
Trying to mend her, to hold her, but shattering her fragile outline.
Her light scattered into shards when it passed through me, a sad kaleidoscope,
It wasn't her that bent, but all that was good in her warm essence,
I held her with sharp edges, how could I keep the light alive?
So, in the end, she faded, not from desire, but from the lack of a clear path.
I left her without ways, a labyrinth of cracked mirrors and lost illusions,
And I wondered, how can a broken heart offer shelter to the light?
She vanished, like a memory shrouded in mist, letting the shadows fall,
But perhaps in my reflections, she will always continue to dance, unceasingly.

Wedding poem Wedding Vows

May we forever be lovers,
May we forever be friends,
And should we hurt each other,
May we quickly make amends.

May we enjoy our passion,
But never let compassion die,
Thinking in selfless terms as we,
Never emphasising I.

May we forever be soul-mates,
May our love eternally last,
May the food of love sustain us,
May we never have to fast.

May we use each other’s strengths,
When we are feeling weak,
May we both learn to compromise,
And always as one voice speak.

May we never keep dark secrets,
May we never tell each other lies,
May we both work unceasingly,
To ensure our love never dies.

Intrusive Thoughts

Intrusive thoughts are bothersome at night
when I’m in bed, prepared to go to sleep.
My mind keeps racing, and it’s hard to fight
those ear worms which into my brain may creep.
I’ll hear the chorus of some new hit song
unceasingly repeat, repeat, repeat,
or maybe there’s a thing that I’ve done wrong -
like something I’d said that day indiscreet.
I’ll lie there thinking why I was so dumb.
Then other thoughts kick in out of nowhere,
persisting like the beats heard on a drum.
It gets to be almost too much to bear.
Enough! There’s one sure way these thoughts will scram.
I down two capsules of Temazepam.

In the garden where illusions grow like paper flowers under the velvet sky

In the garden where illusions grow like paper flowers under the velvet sky,
Life is woven like a tapestry of shadows and lights fading into the distance,
A sweet lie we embrace with open arms,
For the pure truth, like a cold wind, might scatter our dreams,
We paint our reality with the oils of dreams and unfulfilled hopes,
While our soul dances on the edge of an abyss of desires.
In the memory of a yesterday that caresses us with whispered nostalgia,
We build sandcastles on the shore of time, knowing the waves will come,
But we love the ephemeral, the beauty of moments unraveling in the wind of forgetfulness,
For in every illusion, we find a silent truth that warms our heart,
And in every lie, a spark of reality that keeps us anchored in dreams,
And in this duality, we find our steps on the path of life,
A trail of shooting stars that shine only in the night of consciousness.
Thus, in the cosmic silence of our thoughts, we let ourselves be carried,
On rivers of images and sensations that flow unceasingly,
For in this stream of the mind, we find a refuge, a sanctuary of light,
Where life, with all its lies, becomes a story we choose to live.

In a realm of tranquil illusions, weary spirits find thrones of comfort

In a realm of tranquil illusions, weary spirits find thrones of comfort,
Lives frozen in monotonous dances, dolls forgotten in the windows of dead time,
Middle-aged souls, ghosts of lost hope, nestle into routine,
The leaden embrace of stagnation promises them an eternity of divine peace.
Deep within the soul, fear sneaks in like an underground stream,
The fear that fragile order is a sandcastle, a vain illusion,
They retreat into mental bunkers, hiding their dreams and unspoken fears,
Hoping the walls of silence will keep change at bay, unspoken promises.
But time, a tireless sculptor, spins its chisel on the face of reality,
Each moment leaves a mark, a reminder of the ephemeral,
Stagnation is but an illusion, true life awaits beyond the walls,
Demanding the courage to step into the unknown, to emerge from labyrinths.
Between the walls of silence, souls sing the longing for freedom,
A yearning that pulses like a heart beneath resignation, beneath opacity,
Rays of light pierce through the cracks in the walls, reminding them of the river,
Life flows unceasingly, calling them to embrace their living destiny.

In the depths of that meeting, an echo of a silent love was born

In the depths of that meeting, an echo of a silent love was born,
like a hidden whisper in the cold wind embracing the sleeping earth,
and every moment spent together became a page from an untold story,
where words were unnecessary, and their silence was full of deep meanings.
He looked at her as a winter miracle, a rare flower in a frozen garden,
and in her eyes, he saw the reflection of a universe defying the chill of time,
a place where desires and regrets blend into a symphony of emotions,
where each note vibrates with the promise of a spring to come.
In that life-filled silence, he understood that beauty is not only in what you see,
but in how you feel, in how each touch becomes a prayer,
and that sometimes, the deepest connections are formed from unspoken things,
from moments of quiet where their hearts beat in unison, without a word spoken.
Thus, in the eyes of the world, time may seem to freeze, but in their hearts,
the fire of love burns unceasingly, like a flame that knows no end in the heart of winter,
and every memory becomes a warm light, shining in the frozen darkness,
a testament to a bond that transcends the seasons and the passage of time.

Those Doters

Oh! then let us drain, while we may, draughts of pleasure,
Which from passion like ours may unceasingly flow;
—Lord Byron, To Caroline

Those Doters

I love his eyes
those doters
brown oglers, they
more than hint

unlike the wink
of dreamers
he has an in

my body warms
under his gaze

will he stay the course?
of course, he must

I depend on dusk
or a delightful dalliance
at dawn
or in between

in between
i can’t say anymore

I’ve shut the door
Byron’s women blush

In a realm of shadows and fears, footsteps tread unceasingly

In a realm of shadows and fears, footsteps tread unceasingly,
Small fears like dried leaves gather beneath the steps of autumn,
I am not a person, but a lost dream, among desires and shivers,
I fear small, ordinary, human things, like a wandering stranger.
I love adventures, transformations flow like a river to the unknown,
Yet I resist when opportunity appears as a door ajar,
In vain I flee, for fear finds me, an echo of steps on a deserted road,
I have no choice but to look into its deep eyes, to find courage.
Fear is not the monster I believed, but an old friend, unrecognized,
It is the key that opens doors to freedom, to light,
I realize the irony in the question: where has fear been all my life?
What do I still avoid that could be of help, that could bring solace?
With each step, integrating fear, I become more myself,
I embrace the shadows like old acquaintances on my path,
They make my heart beat fast, I live each moment intensely,
I weave my destiny from thin threads of courage and acceptance.

In a world where time flows like an untamed river

In a world where time flows like an untamed river,
I keep my soul like a lighthouse illuminating the storm,
When life whispers to me like a passing wind,
The call of the pen becomes a song that resounds.
I will not bury feelings in the cemetery of the heart,
For it would be cruelty to the stirrings from the depths,
Whether in restless mornings or uneasy nights,
Giving life to words is my sacred and pure right.
In this hurried world, I find a moment of respite,
Capturing ephemeral moments and weaving them into tapestries of poetry,
Unspoken words do not wait forever to be said,
They scatter like leaves in the wind of oblivion, disappearing.
So in the clamor of days, I stop and listen,
Letting my heart beat the rhythm of unforgettable words,
For they are echoes of the soul that must be released,
Before they are lost in the silence of time, like a tumult.
Through woven verses, I give voice to deep silence,
Building bridges of light between desires and dreams,
Knowing that only thus can I keep the moment alive,
In a world where time flows unceasingly, unscathed.

2024

2024 Multitudes of roadblocks confronts me inside 
Unapologetically. 2024

The limits of cracked foundations of systematic,
Complexed people seem to conspire together beyond 
One's control. 2024

Why smudge one's personality for whatever unknown 
Reasons?

Undecisive which pill to swallow? Should one move to
The left? The right? or in-between. 2024

Spiritual warfare? Sometimes favorable at times 
Dreadful encounters now and then scanty control 
Purposes to withstand life's storms? 2024

Where's the Love? Has it gone extinct? Concealed 
excuses. Trickiness seems like the new truth. 2024

Peace should be embraced wholeheartedly and incorporated. 2024

Veneration faces the four corners of the winds. Pray
Unceasingly, on all occasions, acts of gracefulness. 2024

Wild Is The Night

Only on full moon does my essence 
find release,
When the blaze of moments infects
 my hunger for raw wantonness...          
Gulls skitter on coastlines
 and reel overhead
Their  croons heralding night's ebullience,
Until my limbs twirl unceasingly
For an endless tempo
 of wild  bohemian dance.
Living in the Now,
  my body- soul races free

Like chants of untamed prayer
welcoming eve's thrill almost sublime.

Twisted Words

Twisted Words are they your fears you hold onto
written on your scroll? That you project on me?

Twisted Words robs someone of their joy and
One's character,  tend to dig ditches to entangle 
someone's growth, control of one's mind? Am I
imagining.  Twisted Words

Ruthless beings for whatever reasons  they conspire
And question someone on things unknown. They
Slander someone unceasingly. All day long they
twist someone words for ruin. Twisted Words 

Their words are like fire flammable attempting to consume 
someonelicking these wounds that are trying to break
someone down. Twisted Words

They do not speak peaceable,  but devise false accusations.  Twisted Words 

I would not let them consume  my peace of mind, integrity.  
I release you, No shame or confusion will I embrace.  Twisted Words

Raining in Summer

In skies of gray I dwell
inside of clouds,
keeping company with mugginess
and sweltering heat.

People who labor underneath me
perspire profusely; some curse.
Others pray for me
to cut their labor short.

Yes, they pray for rain.
I hear their cries,
for I’ve been mustering steam
during days and days of dreadful drought.

Pitter  patter  pitter  patter
Their plaintive pleas I answer teasingly.
Starting slow. I dole out droplets 
 drop     by    drop      by  tiny   drop

The droplets increase . . . plop  plop  plop.
Wind joins in - wailing.
Trees tremble as I splatter them
with wonderful wetness for the prayerful.
Swoosh! Ker-plunk!  
I’m drumming and drumming, 
pouring myself down
on thirsting flowers with heads bowed
to reverently receive me.

Umbrellas appear all over the streets.
Gleefully, I pound them, hammering away.
I pounce on the heads of uncovered people.
Soaking grass and soil,
filling rain gutters, and 
sliding joyously off many hard surfaces,
I saturate every place that I’m able to outside.

I am rain, and unceasingly
this summer day, 
I reign
supreme.

What can a soul be without a song of love

What can a soul be without a song of love?
A ship that floats in a starless night...
The wounds of separation, beneath the uncaring moon,
Whisper unforgettable stories on cold sea waves.
What is a flight when wings are absent?
A prisoner in the cage of one's own life, with no escape.
On pathways beaten by memories, the heart treads,
In the shadow of longing that stretches, pale, toward the horizon.
Melancholy, the spell of the night where the stars sigh,
And each heartbeat seems an echo in deserted cathedrals.
The soul, a leaf that floats in the coolness of autumn,
Like hope built in a sandcastle that's about to collapse.
How many deep valleys of pain can a heart keep shading?
The evening that steals its colors in twilights that gently descend...
But there exists a symphony that pierces through clouds of suffering,
An angelic choir that promises that the love from above still watches.
In the silent and torn waltz, the soul searches for hope,
On a road frozen in time, waiting to be reborn.
And maybe somewhere beyond the stars, the music starts again,
Taking us to horizons where eternal love will rise, unceasingly.

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