Monday, 31 August 2015

Hard but Sweet melodies..

The summer is about to pass..
clouds playing hide and seek..
the errant sun not backing down for a second..
and the brown stains on that old ceramic cup…
taking eons to dissipate away...
from my map of sterilized perfection..
but with the sacred guitar of many a omniscient smiles
by my side…
and the jugular notes duelling inside my fragile mind..
what can only come through the nooks of my hash enthused eyes..
are sweet lyrics of discontent…
tunes of anarchy unpredictable…
and a few hard melodies..
that will even make a stone dead..
come alive with passions infinite..
and start the dance of unprejudiced destruction..
of all cloistered and safe guarded..
acts of tyranny…

The leaves are singing wildly..
under the influence of breathless drugs..
it seems the westerlies are now..
the best in the business of making dreams..
turn into realms untouched..
with coca..
slowly taking the beating retreat..
down the sewers spattered..
by the cusses of loonies countless.
the reflection in the mirror intimate..
looks at a caricature of a trip heady..
gone way down south..
the last bits of marijuana ..
lie wasted here and there..
waiting for someone’s  carbon Dioxide..
to make it glorious again…
the situation seems quite a goner..
all my ex's taking a toll..
on my hazardous delinquent logic..
threatening to metamorphose my flesh
into the skin of a demon crazed..
to bring about chaos ruthless..
but all is not lost still..
for the guitar with the soul of Jim Morrison..
lies right by my side..
as the canary of love..
in an radioactive graveyard..
and the wild disjointed ideas of peace..
run around like a protective circle blessed..
trying to protect my not so hardy heart..
from an assault by spirits spiteful..
and filled with remorse from sins unsatisfied..
and the composition slowly structure itself..
like humans smiling in front of ruins of ceaseless destruction…
stretching into horizons beyond the perception..
of the mind’s eye..
and everything just comes together..
at that gifted hour of Eden..
when the forbidden happens..
and desires are released..
in a whole deluge..
of hard..
but ultimately lusciously melodies..
rectifying the disruptive compass of my consciousness..
and saving me from a death of ignorable Schizophrenia...

the divides continue..
more borders..
wasted nails…
endless death fields..
numerous Auschwitz ..
the homeless man goes on begging..
the young kids keep on dying..
surrounded by Barbies  and Mickey Mouses..
the rains come and go..
with the mystique of el nino..
and the allure of the doom…
my clothes hang out without any shame…
still searching for a whiff of your sacred ocean of bliss
but even in this drought of depravity..
even in this orgy of betrayals….
and while the food gets burnt..
i go through afternoons crispy..
pale and burnt..
one ray of rose is always by my side..
that’s my guitar..
gifted by my dream…
my dream left me lurching..
but her priceless love stayed..
in that vacuum of elm and horse hair..
and since that has been my only inspiration..
of sordid rhythms..
yet ethereal consequences….
and melodies hard…
dogmatic like a boulder arrogant..
violent like an perennially active volcano…
raging like an never stopping quasar..
changing like the moods mercurial..
of a tyrant lunatic…
yet they are sweet..
conducive for change..
receptive of miracles..
sweeter than the grapes of Phoenicia …
and much more universal and potent
in influence..
than the songs of the elitist Nightingale..

No comments:

Post a Comment