Little Mermaid

Dance steps break into a flourishing love

at the corner of the mall under bridgeway

there is nothing perchance about it or to

imagine what the scene leads to a broken

promises of the season where there is nothing

burning not even smouldering the fire inside

I  love more than I endure silence under my breath

This is the case of young socialist eking out a living

through designing artwork.There were some of the

paintings being hauled to the gates of socialites.The evenings

come by like a stranger in the church yard,keeping the silence

from breaking into a tap dance,there is nothing that could mean

the mean things.This is half said words said about God and then

forgotten from where the seasons keep warm.I eke out living again

bending and kneading the love for goats.Silence.

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From heaven up to heels on paradise

Legs rest on the tiny skinned table

sitting as if the question was unanswerable

I said no! Argos go and fetch some flowers

as if in docked windows sleep

smoothly by fire there is clandestine

love and there is patience to keep on

traveling and ever.There is no silence

and nothing could be kept quiet

you shimmer then there is a fall

of rhapsody on the radio

I pick up myself and lounge by the

side of skinned table and like a corpse

rest on the pretext of heaven.

There is silence and more silence

accompanying the chords of music

what is felt on the radio is next to

hellish noise of noises and barks of barks

there is cacophony and we seem to end

the last argument.

 

The coolest harmony of the wind

The wind blasts aghast

having lost hope,what is snuggled?

nearer the heart comes the dear unbarren

and with a sudden chirp the sparrows

met the fete of my wanderings

the moor of the wild calls with the

sudden harbinger of the day was done

You return at the helm and in stead

goes the doom preserving us for

posterity.There could be no cold

shoulder to a king!

Ensemble

The worst days are gone

forgotten with the season’s

greetings written in one-sided

mesh of the stuff fortune.

She wrought in piece of puzzle

hanging rose with a fistula

recalling the crowd hunger

for mystery amid the mist

I see everything forgotten

is the pile of flesh

layered and lacquered

in the season’s meetings

He is calmer than the charmers

The spirit looses me.I am bewildered the goat is receiving mercy from the hunter.Then there are planets raising the dust of the universe.Who’s calling? My friend from the jungles,lost in the sea of fire from where there is no tide rising.Then she miscarried the whole of summer.There’s a hope and no mental feverishness.I am stagnant said the water and if only the priests could host the dinner in name for the astute beginning.Its not auspicious to dine alone, since the meeting of the workers was enough to make him happy.We strive for the gala event of hosting the formula car racing.Its going tediously for him.He finished the drink in a swig and wiped clean his lips.Next was a sermon from the God to the young man.There is a prayer to be brought in the open for everyone’s recitation.The socialists commit themselves to the gardens to beautify the landscape and settle in for the equality for everyone.They locked their heads in a fight like among the bulls that is the opening of the festival.No more beautification came from the mermaid who had been hiding in the self less thoughts neatly tucked in the place on a seat among the intellectuals.

Pidgin English

The main language English has a pidgin for communicating with the soulful bliss of the kitchen called Butler English.How come butler English have lived it up to the British Raj in India.Calling upon attendants to help rescue from social gaffes is not unusual in English autumn during British Raj when English was not meant to be the native language for Indian speakers.The language of fiction in English is versatile enough to attract compositions for the stage and film.If portrayed in usual traditional manner, fiction in English is not bad.Like a swoon from love it could be portrayed a character in English.

She fell for the bitter grapes

that dauntingly she cast away the

fruity juice from the lips and imagined

English wine in long never ending Indian Summer.