The REAL me....

The Real ME...

I am not, the Complete me,

The Truth of me is past,

Firmed in the Breeze,

Chiding clock's stutter, 

And the Real is yet to be.

But am told the Real you,

Is drifting in the passing too.

Layers of  time, 

In chambers of certitude contain

An incognito in the present

Decoy of past and Yet to be.

~ A

Bench Press

Brash gust of music
on languid mornings pour
chiseling somnolent breaths to a sigh.

Eyes closed
grips awake to your touch.
Hoary memories
in tense calculated controlled
pectoralis excitement reside.

I feel you through your cold seams
your sheen
fine crafted metallic sleepy cold.

Clasps firm on the holds
the carnal within
awakens to a hold- a press and a lift.

You are racked again
probably ready for another try.

But I am done
glistening in sweat
I heave a sight.

~ A

Acceptance Shatters Truths

Is the Pain-Truth there to stay?
or is the animate
ever changing, perishing
being and becoming?

Gripe is a definite
that vacillates between
desire in its becoming
and fulfillment perishing.

Journeys never end
The seas and deserts
though pass in a measure
I and they remain.

Breath empties to fresh gasp
as hankering and gratification.
each in its stance
challenge my Peace.

~ A

Reverence to the Energy.

You came to me
In different ages
All clad in colours
... Of formations
Which dispersed
Into the nature
.. Of happenings
Pure and contagious
The instinct of Power
Shining through
Various associations
In contrasts of distress and
...  Un-breached Love
For a commitmet
In construction
AND yet I need
you more and more
Not just everytime
The clouds gathered
And breeze swept
... My sleeping body
To Delightfulness
O! Power,
O! Mother
O! Aspect of Love
Reverence

Happy Navratas!!
~ A

Sense of Life

And it was not deficient
EVER !
With the shortness of breath
It came through death
The sense of Life.

The sense of Life
Always brewed
Often in disguise
Muffled - untold.

When you were not there
I felt the pangs - ah! another
When I was missing
It went past a hugging
That my deprived eyes beheld.

Just that pain did not realize
That within the cloak of
Every hour deprived
Brewed through solitude
A cry unrealized
And through moments unspent with you,
It was not Life always I choose
It was You.

~ A.

the kiss

...... and
which part
of your body
will
my kiss
adorn best ?
should it be the navel
or the thigh
or the deep set cleft
on your chin
or the parting
where the buttocks meet
and where on our last meeting
when I nibbled,
you had shrieked
or
should it be
the way the
age old ritual began
where my lips
pondered all over
guided by the
sight of smell
discovering the fragrant striations
as they varied and
intensified
helping my way to your lips
from where
I could fix my bewildered gaze
into your deep
dark eyes.

~ A

Too wide a gap to bridge.......

There are acts
Entangled in the depravity
Of memory's cravings
Which the Body
And the Living mind
Often refuses to attest

And

Which do not reflect
On the living consciousness
As any event of substance
But
Which are libraries
Of echoing bliss
When observed-relived
In solitude.

Its the impedance of reflection
That is a passion
And not
The acts of ignorance.
~ A.