Monday, May 23, 2011

Bittersweet Adrenaline Rush

Inside that beige tent of life
True nature of these bright colors lies
Here I am in a borrowed candy floss costume
Hiding away the pain with scent of my cheap perfume
In old ripped pink ballet shoes
Perfectly complimenting my cheek's hue
You the world are here to poke fun at my act tonight
Others I must add are here to merely write
About the petite thin chested dancers, the lions & the colors
Though some think we're not worth their precious dollar
Now here comes the adrenaline rush
Entering the brain with a gush of blood
With the lights dimmed, the act finally begins
The performers in the beaded costumes come flyin' in
Amidst this chaos my task is to walk on a thin rope tonight
Wondering isn't that what I have been doing all my life?
With my head held high I walk on by
On a rope that's as high as the vanilla sky
With juggling glossy balls up in the air
Lost in my own friggin' despair
Walking nervously half way through
Slipping almost saying my adieu
To this stage, to friends and enemies in masks
Distracting myself, thinking of the wine cask
Hidden somewhere in my home's basement
With engravings of love, I'm getting impatient
Perhaps its resting by the old cherry finish book shelf
Somewhere on Jewel street in my hometown of Philadelph
I stumble again, my fear exposed to the world
Caught up again in the circus whirl
About five feet away from my destination
Don't think tonight I won the crowd's admiration
My solace drips through my sweat, its that real
Like my wounds and scars that just wouldn't heal
Holding on to my desires in my so called butter fingers
Never been this fragile, help me oh Lord dear
The enzyme of hope that runs through my system
Of lovemaking nights and what I can become
Instead of a sad circus act I perform night after night
Time will change there must be something more in life
Almost there about two feet away
Breathing in the air of my own dismay
Trying to find the balance I now lack in life
This tainted reputation will not be revived
The crowd changes its mind and cheers me on
Away from the limelight I'm a bit withdrawn
Some of 'em say she lives the life of pure fantasy
I say let their screams be my pathetic fallacy
Taking my last step finally reaching the end
The end from which my tomorrow shall begin
In state of mourning staring down at the crowd from above
They reciprocate with applause, cheers and love
So this is my fake world of lions, magic and fame
With exotic dancers, glittery costumes and ragging flames
A life lived on extremes with happiness subtract
And that's the story of how I became a circus act

Thursday, May 19, 2011


Vague memories haunt
Of the girl she used to be
With placid blue eyes
She's now a faint memory

Splendiferous soul & outlook
With long black glazed hair
Hands softer than snow they say
And eyes filled with such despair

With a tainted reputation
And a name like Bella
Her infamous midnight escapades
She was no Cinderella

Occupant of the largest suite
In a brothel down the street
With crowds of customers to her name
On the same old white sheets

With admirers round the clock visiting
She pleased almost everyone
In and out they came and left
With a part of her existence

With a predator like hunger
And undying thirst for passion
In surrendering to the visitors
Layed her real satisfaction

Age caught up soon resulting in
Her sweet demise courtesy of the disease
Yet to the frequent visitors she'll forever be
That exquisite damsel from the streets

With the brothel demolished now
Her scent remained there for a while
But to the local residents she'll always be
That girl with a broken smile

Sunday, May 15, 2011


The plethora of reasons she can give thee
But shouldn't speak of them no sire no
The craving for forbidden fruit does not subside
As she's starting to hit a real low

Thick grey clouds of sin take over
Desire and hunger all submerge into one
The soft ripe juices of passion flow in
Aching for a touch, she's come undone

Brushes were all picked out from before you see
And the shades have also finally been chosen
The strokes are a bit subtle on the paper
As she paints her very own Saint Ambrosian

The pleasure is mostly soaked in hurt hence
Screams from the captive cells of her mind
Trapped in her own conspiracy theory tonight
She's somewhere by the bridge's bend

Obliviously struggling to find the lost solace in
Astronomical unknown noisy crowds of the city
Losing a part of her existence every minute
Wandering around like a goddamn gypsy

Her parching days come to an end ultimately
And a dash of relief eventually takes over
Pinching herself just to make sure you see
That she's finally met her real lover

Embraced in the arms of her very own stranger
With love floating around in every inch of her space
In you must I confess, I find my real Zen
So there you go Sire, I now rest my case

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Certain Things Only You And I Know

Here's the thing... Its a big city. With lights and big malls. With highways and fancy cars. With busy restaurants and exotic menus. With trains running every 30 seconds and with people walking countless miles. That's the thing with big cities. We work our asses off. But when the day comes to an end here's an other thing about big cities... it sometimes get very lonely. Its true. You and I both know when that happens.

But here's the thing... when that happens I turn to you. I have no other choice. Even if I did have a choice I would still turn to you. Because you understand me so damn well. I don't know this is really off topic but I feel that sometimes when you have too much going on a feeling of emptiness sort of takes over. Its ironic but it happens sometimes. You and I both know when that happens.

Here's the scary thing.. I think I am losing my touch. More than that I feel like I am losing myself. The fear of losing myself is eating me inside out. And there's nothing I can do that would reverse the effect of this feeling. I feel ugly. I look ugly. I don't know what I am saying anymore. I start from one thing and end at something totally unrelated. It has become my thing. Its true. You and I both know that it has been happening a lot lately.

I am sitting in your terrace. Here's the thing though...Its funny no one really uses the word terrace around here. Its strange. After all it is a strange city. With strange weather. With strange buildings and strange street names. With strange cars and strange people. Its a city of strangers. I don't know. I feel like an outsider here. Its strange. You know that feeling. I think you feel awkward as well. So its good then. You and I both agree that this is a strange city.

Here's the thing with life. Its quite content. No complaints. Between working crazy hours and running to evening classes... its all good. Burnt out some would say? But its okay. Cuz who isn't burnt out in such big cities? I don't know anyone who isn't. And I know a lot of people so that says something too you know. But here's the thing though... in the midst of living a busier life than ever... you and I both know this for sure..

We were much happier when we were absolutely miserable.

Its true. We both are such complicated paradoxes. And that's something You and I are for sure.

Aren't we?