The story of my story

My story is like a harlot
Adjectives are her lipstick and fake eyelashes

Her smile is not vulgar as it tells my jokes
Her gaze is inviting as it shows my desires

Look at her heels its not the same as then,
I changed her name so you don’t complain
I even changed her eye color so she doesn’t look plain.

She walks in beauty,
But she talks only in duty
It depends on your mood sir,
She does overtime even you are crude sir

One sunny day she would want to fly
But all her wings will be drenched in her cries

Mirrors never told the truth,
We trusted your eyes rather your touch,
I never felt bad, but my story is a little slut
She wishes to go everywhere but she sulks much

Marry her, sir! She has suffered enough.
She might die soon she is fragile and her life had been rough.

A Portrait of my Lady

It starts with the hair flowing in this moonlit rooftop,
And cautiously painted creases on those eyelids shut forcedly
And imagine those colors in your words, comas and full stop.

It goes till your gaze can penetrate, corners and deep lies,
And how do you touch them with wet fingers and lips soaked in sweat
Heartbeats, fake smiles, silence and dried up those sighs.

Come back with flowers, impress with dahlias and kiss not smooch,
Spanish guitar with bread toast and buttered, aah, handful of chocolates
Smile replaced smirk and mono act being new position in bed.

It reaches till the illumination, navel and the slight curve on the end of the hip,
Man standing in the closet became rat and ran over your whole body
Flinching at every breath, so claustrophobic that breaks every single rib.

It ends at the end of his neck, sweet smell of an escape,
A horse ride and you on the back, sobbing, fretting
Coming to the center, blood, heat, bang! And crash.

 

BROTHERS

And you play hard to look gay,
But you fail miserably at this play.

This world not meant for you,
Too real and colorful for you.

Lines that they say,
In the beginning and at the end,
They sound jazzy and you go crazy.

You big ‘Wanna be’…
Wanna be colored like them?

They suffered their Identity,
Never took society for Pity.

You the ‘Fucked-Up-In-The-Brain’ one,
Why are you so dumb?

Fill up the spaces in you,
Tear off the barriers, make New You.

BLOOD IS BLACK

Blood is black,
It runs through my soul,

Burden on my chest,
Crawling up to the head.

Take off your hand,
Let me open my eyes,
Why do you cry?

I see blood again,
Is it a new pain?

HUNGARY: LAND & PEOPLE

Sleep is bliss,
Have it with wide eyes,
Golden Bull and Magna Carta makes you cry.

What the hell are you saying?
What shit are you throwing?
Poltics and Power (or is it synonyms?)
I am not interested,
Yes I am coward.

Noblemen and Kings, dies as well,
Who remembers their names, outside this cell?

Germany and Hungary, Two beautiful beasts,
Playing in my mind, how history gets defeat.

But no! Give me break, (or at least Grades!)
I want to love you, but why do you seem dead?