CUT AND QUARTERED Cut and quartered; salted for the cure - Strung so I can see how each muscle, Limb and sinew has been disected! The fault was mine; I was in range And you were the innocent With a trigger to press! And now you ask if I hurt And I tell you less than The time when I was alive At the beck and call of one Who couldn’t care If I lived or died Told the truth or lied! But then you tell me It is the nature of love That makes a room look dark When it is perfectly lit with chandeliers; It is that moment when you are most alive; The pure bliss of knowing nothing matters The earth, the moon, the sun, the universe! Call it a curse but when you open your eyes From here onwards there will be no lies Only the truth of being Like a river of milk and honey Flowing past the frivolity Of your senses And the mind that unites Orchestrates the symphony Guides the paint Chisels the word Sculpts out of nothing To imbue meaning For your purpose! 2 When you hate the world Make sure you hate it enough Take no calls, return no calls Acknowledge no messages Send no replies Let time kill And a day will come When nothing matters Nothing consequential - No memory, no conscience No pain, no sorrow - As if nothing happened Nobody died; nobody cried – Just the tide that turned on itself Tore down the reef, plundered the land; A tsunami that left Destruction in its wake. I do not believe in make belief! I see no reason for a lie Just so I stand out, Just so I am noticed and sought But then I should know better I should take my blinders off Look around and see What makes the world tick - Hear the click of designer shoes Watch the handbags and sunglasses Watch the key in the ignition; Watch the gestures - The way a hand carves the air The way clever eyes flit about The air of confidence, the upright walk The talk that says nothing matters but me - The world is my hive and I am the queen bee! 3 It isn’t the first that counts, but the last that matters The one whom you touch before you move on The lingering feel of your lips upon hers The whiff of her perfume, The waist your palms trace The tremble in the voice And magic in the words That rise and fall in waves. What difference does it make If you are cast off and forgotten Maimed, hung or quartered Better to have Lived on death row Than not to have lived at all Better a memory than a blank Better a world of your senses Than a black hole beyond! RAJA CHANGEZ SULTAN 5TH MOON OF JUPITER
Posted on: Tue, 26 Aug 2014 17:43:45 +0000
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