Saturday, June 27, 2015

TRILOGY OF LOVE POEMS

1
The palimpsest ripples
With meanings inexistent
While the script of being
Ululates disconsolately
Iridescent daubs
Stipple the canvas
Dotted with associations
Meanings congeal.
2
My love is infinitesimal
Yet strong enough to prove
That while feelings run awry
Landscapes of romance move
It is necessary that the tumescence
Expends its fruit
Eve 's integument shimmers
As adam faces ,on his face, the boot
Swaying with the syncopated rhapsody
Of a warbling aria of love
I gleam, in the interstices of neuroses
By soaring far and above
My foundation may have striated me with unmet pain
Queerness though belies, a normative preening and vain.
3
The mirror never lies
Though doesn't speak the truth
Absorbing, in its myriad blankness
Interiorities of circumlocution
Whirling, swirling, ricocheting
Self and other disperse
Regard, love, self love
Compacted and terse
Refract me and him
Amid prospects dim
Cosmic indifference, meanwhile
Rotates in a capricious vein
Ratcheting exuberant love studs me
A reality i can't unfeign

Thursday, June 25, 2015

REFLEXIVENESS

My reflexes are conditioned
To see the truth beneath
Though what i see on the surface
Seems , true enough ,too.
Choosing between poles of being
That inhere in me
Means eschewing choice to embrace
The messiness of self contradiction
Images don't lie
But spawn self projections which
Emanate from, ricochet and dissipate
Into the antechamber of collective memory.
Things happen, coherencies disintegrate
Trajectories halt, resume, suspend, anchor
While the ceaseless alterations of the self
Whirl and tintinnabulate irrepressibly.
Seeing what i need to see
Won't reveal the reality
But reality, ipso facto ,may be
What may be meant to be unseen

Monday, June 22, 2015

THE HORSE WHISPERER

Late, in the nineties
As wrinkles striated your face
As your eyes crinkled at the edges
I saw you as a cowboy, my first
Exposure to your rugged being

Of course i went back
Tracing backwards
The lineaments of your
Progression to this
Rustic cowboy

What you then were
And are now
Wherein time
Enclosed in a spiral
Of a closed circularity
Reveals, latent, nascent
The image of you i had forever
Which both came to me through
The you i saw and corresponded
To the you i constructed

From those endless porn movies
Haystacks, the smell of horse dung
Trucks, cattle, dampness, sweat
And the impedimenta of rancid
Reckless sex

Yet you, circumvented these imaginings
By underscoring, the impossibility
Of fitting the image to life
Wherein i consecrate you by
Negating my inwardness as
Only surviving by denial
Can retain the pristine
Image of the cowboy who fixes
Horses with people problems

Suppurating with probity
Abnegating what i never
Know existed nor desire
To bring to light ,i exult
In the narrative of love you proffer
Knowing that beyond the barns and stables
Where pricks measure the circumference of the anus
There lies a prelapsarian world
That never was , never can be
But exists, configurable, in the aegis
Of my blind faith. 

THE FROG PRINCE

Nebulous you,
Blurred,
Beneath your striated beard
Where your thick lips
Flecked with salival foam
Glitter and glisten
With concupiscence

That night as i trawled
My fingers through your
Raspy beard, feeling pinpricks
Coruscating me, i thought
With regret , of your daughter
As ,in failing to even simulate
Mythology i would inveigle a
Desire that would transcend gender.

I am a succubus
Draining your juices
Dazzling you into immobility
By the force of my serpentine locks
Underneath my muscled calves
And pectorals, blooms the cave
Of an endlessly replicating
Aperture, stretching into nothingness.

Encompassing you, incorporating
I swallow you heart and soul
In giving of you to me
Blendings and blotches  insinuate
The carapace of your dick
And the endless integument  of my anus.

Fuck you, father king
Spitting you out
Ejecting the emblem of my solipsism
I, inhabit the mirror, the frog
Kissing its reflection except
Instead of the frog there
Reposes a handsome prince

I have become what i always was.

Sunday, June 21, 2015

INITIATION

'Don't you want to have some hot fun?' He texted me.
My breath was caught in my throat for one exhilarating moment before i expelled it. I was erect and blood was pounding on my temples. In retrospect this visceral response would have surprised me but at that moment i was so consumed by lust that any other idea was inconceivable.
'Okay , come over, i texted back.

Which is ironical because before his lubricious reply i had texted him saying 'have to go out somewhere, another time maybe' Perhaps he sensed my hesitation. Or waves of my lust, unconstrained by this frenetic message ,convinced him that he could win me over. He was a prostitute after all, well versed in the accoutrements of sexual projection.And his message did have the desired effect. I was panting, expectant. It was to be my first sexual encounter.

I had met him on twitter on a page on delhi male prostitutes. He was one of the few who had been forthcoming online about his number. My fingers trembled when i called him. And when we finalised our deal which was to culminate in his coming over , i marvelled at the ease and desultoriness of our transaction. I hadn't presaged any difficulties but neither had i expected that this sexual desire which tormented me delectably would find such convenient a space for release.

For that summer sexual heat overpowered me. I watched pornography incessantly and my fantasies were peopled by an assortment of men culled from my unconscious. The surprising thing was that my taste for men, as far as the sex was concerned, was indiscriminate. It didn't matter how dark or fair, tall or short the man was. His prick and its priapic peregrinations around my tumescent dreamscape was pleasurable enough. I was masturbating frequently, indefatigably. My dick felt raw and it pained when i peed, a sharp ,piquant pain which attenuated sexual desire by dispersing it throughout my body. In fact i would have, if i could, circumvent sex altogether but the internet proved to be both a stimulus and an opportunity to actualize my lust. Which is how i met him.

I was too exited to take a bath when he was to come. So i brushed my teeth and powdered my crotch region. I had already exhausted the possibilities this intersection would institute. My imagination, having traversed the inexhaustible terrain of  possibilities as yet undefined prosaically , roamed forth copiously. All night long i had slept fitfully, engorged and alternately hesitant and excited, oscillating between excoriation at the imprudence of my folly and an irrepressible thrill at my insouciance.

He rang the bell. I opened the door. He was bespectacled, clean shaven, dark brown in skin. He was dressed casually in a jeans and a blue summery shirt. His presence seemed incongruous in that the form didn't match his putative function. He could just as well be a college friend visiting me over the summer holidays. The oddity of my predicament,which really was an undermining of my preconceptions, did not pass me by. 'Hi ', he said shyly.

'Would you like some water?' and without waiting for a reply i pour out a glass for him from the bottle in the fridge.
 'So, where shall we do it', he asks.
I direct him to the bedroom. The bed my parents shared before my father's precipitate and untimely demise. The titillation of the contraband lurked subconsciously.

We took off our clothes. He had a hairy chest but a relatively small penis. I had been so used to the monstrous cocks in porn that i was slightly nonplussed. Lust seemed to be leaking away from me. A self consciousness was being inveigled. But lust, though less concupiscent, was still present enough to seek some consummation. I began sucking his nipples but the chest hair striating these aureoles rasped the edges of my mouth rather disgustingly. Then i turned to his cock, sucking it assiduously. 'You're amazing, baby, you're amazing', he crooned, replicating those porn intonations i had watched so thrillingly. Suddenly i had a curiously disembodied sensation of unreality, as though i were myself in a porn movie. The element of the phantasmagoric and farcical didn't escape me by. But as i sucked away at his cock my growing disenchantment was unavoidable. I milked his testicles greedily and as the semen gushed forth i swallowed it like sacrament.

But the semen had such a sharp, bitter astringence that i choked. It stuck to the roof of my mouth, intimating its rancid unsavourieness. 'Can we have anal sex?' i humbly inquired. He whipped out a condom and enclosed it around his penis. He did some preliminary work on my anus before the first thrust. And when the first thrust occurred i doubled over in pain and shock. My eyes glazed. The visitation sent an immeasurably jabbing pain up my body. I simulated disinterest as i wriggled out of this situation by refocusing on his cock.
I think by now my accumulating disinterest and impersonality in the sex act, spiked with terror, must have communicated itself to him. He told me to lie down. He began to lick the underarm hair in my armpit but puckered up his nose asking 'didn't you have a bath' and i was ready to die with the awkwardness of it. Then he proceeded to suck my cock.I am uncircumcised and he kept trying to peel back the foreskin which made the skin around my penis burn. I abruptly asked him to stop.

He dressed himself. I offered him some lunch and paid him thrice the amount he'd charge. I was ashamed of the rather anti climactic nature of my fantasies, disappointed with this episode whose promises had already been expended before the deed occurred and relieved simultaneously that nothing untoward had taken place. He was rather nice about the whole thing and grateful too but i had learnt my lesson. The more baroque the imagination the more sordid the reality. And sex was about pain too.

This was a painful initiation. Over the next few days i toyed with the idea of calling him again and restitute for my uninspired and meretricious performance. But the sex bug in me had quietened for a bit. Besides the next semester was beginning soon. My summer of misadventure was finally over.