The Blind Violinist

Inside that mid night subway train

Heard a broken hearted lover play

Plucking strings so they could echo

Those mediocre tunes of utter dismay

Trying to fix her broken pendant, there she was

With her winter scarf wrapped around her neck

Remembering romance of yester nights

Hiding scars of bites and pecks

Dared he, began to play Mozart

Symphony fourty-Molto allegro

Entered E flat major in a haste

Not affecting the smooth flow

Lost in the sanctuary of sins

In that deep state of half asleep

With dreams resting on her eyelids

Of Starry les nuits à Paris

With a half soul, yet giving his best 

Lost in the melody with eyes closed

With a name of past love engraved

On that dusty broken violin's scroll

Her station Chester was next, they announced

She got ready to depart the train

Eyes on the door, heart somewhere in Paris

And walking dans central city in the rain

Lost in thought she walked past him

Her scent so familiar, J'adore it was

"Abby", screamed he, the blind violinist

His wounds still unprocessed and raw

"Mistaken you are", she replied impolitely

Doors opened, wind distributed her scent

He apologized for mistaken identity

Yet memory of past sorrows did augment

Of days full of hopelessness

And nights full of uncertainty

His lover's secret Ménage à trois

Away from his blind sight, a place so privy

The doors closed behind the woman

As she witnessed the train leave

Her pendant broke, landing in her hand

On it was the name engraved Abby

Dorian Gray

In his limpid stillness he stands tall proudly
References made about his distinct beauty
Basil, an artist, secret admirer of the boy
Romantic soul, fearful yet half full of joy
With feelings unexpressed of admiration
Of illusive kisses, desires and temptation
Says Basil,"You have a part of me Dorian,
But you do not care for my pure affection",
While the boy with a stone heart and vanity
With heart breaker qualities and no sympathy
Asks the sinful artist that as his life begins to unfold
To let him stay young & let his painting grow old
"Let it take upon the punishment for my sins,
Allow it to suffer on my behalf somewhere within",
Enters Sybil, the local theatre actress, playing Juliet
Sparks grew, his name got engraved on her heart's slate
Rejection came when he failed to recognize any art in her
She died of love then and there which caused a stir
A life he spent in guilt, helplessness, yet with pride intact
Portrait aging, resembling evil, with beauty subtract
His divided existence based on absolute lies
A life then spent on edges of frailty and vice
Years passed, the evil grew more within
The darkness took over and purity forgotten
He became a murderer, killed the very artist
Who made him famous, a moment not his best
Debauchery took over, daily trips to the opium den
Remained intoxicated in the east end of London
His deal with the devil became over whelming
Fame, vanity, wealth all seemed unappealing
So he turned to the portrait he hadn't seen in ages
Saw ruminations of an unworthy wicked savage
He then stabbed the painting deep in the heart
Destroying the image, Basil's best work of art
As the soul deceased, so did Dorian
His face resembling a horror film villain
A life time spent on the tendrils of immorality
He paid the price of his venomous vanity

Delilah

In bed next to her thought, I lay awake
With a certain degree of fringed insanity
And a pillow so damp due to these cries
Those call out a tale of her destructive vanity

In half written love notes, there was a quest
To witness my heart's own sweet dismay
The dramatic sessions of truth in her betrayals
Popped bubbles of vulnerability, just to play

And to make me walk on the path of fear
Built from the debris of her everlasting lies
The bubble still did not burst, must I add
Even post witnessing shades of her disguise

Femme Fatale, during those dark rainy nights
With hands so soft, eyes so black and lips so red
Blood stream soaked in whiskey, appearing nude
With rain drops scattered all over her bare back

Minus the struggle, the pain and restlessness
Serpentine murmurs held me in imprisonment
Soul wrapped in cringed desires, she claimed
Creature of the night left me in abandonment

In midst of impending chaos and what's now done
Ascertained, there are no heroes in this tragic story
Well wishers there are in masks, waiting to slaughter
Demonic characters from my past, will never be sorry

Defeated today, I've never felt this stranded
Lost count of all our irredeemable sins
Tried to block echoes that bring me misery
Moral noted, evil prevails hence she's won

About Love

Get rid of the silent mode
And finish that half prose
The one with our little secret
Before somebody starts to dread
So walk through this perfumed sea
Holding hands, just you and me
Like some absolute mad lovers
In this Autumnless October
Know how peacocks dance
Carefree they get, at every chance
Do not doubt how it could be
Just close those eyes & come to me
Let's build walls of our very own essence
And a roof of love that's innocent
So please accept this soliloquy
Of a broken hearted lover's plea

Tumors & Voids

Almost terrified of discovering the consequences
Of what nightmares unfold behind those dark eyes
Some clouds of grey being smoked all day long
And hysterical laughter followed by endless cries

With fragile state of mind, wish I could hold on to him
As it gets secluded at times in this glittery old darn city
Admirable lips, speak of nothing but ache and angst
Battles he has been fighting now since some eternity

Hands so soft, he rests on that cherry finish table
On the one he taps out the tune of sheer loneliness
Wish I had the chance to hold on to them for good
With lines that speak the tales of utter emptiness

Flickering hope I can offer if not anything else
Songs of endless joy we can pretend to sing
Wearing a mask would hide a bit of ugliness
So buckle up tight and let the play begin

With indifference behind and laughter to follow
Starry long summer nights under midnight sky
Let the healing process be at its brink, I suppose
And all the harmless games with absolute joy

So when it comes crashing down, just grab the ashes
Or hold on to the mould of our disasters combined
Glue the debris all together in every way possible
With little pieces of now and then, all intertwined

Cuz even the best place in the world means nothing
If the layers of past ashes simply can not overlap

I Can Almost Reach You

In hope that He will grant you just one more day
I ended up folding a thousand paper cranes for you
We'd create a few last minute blissful moments
With glowing fluorescent light passing through

Self Contempt

Drawing myself closer, coming slowly face to face
To incidents of the past, should I actually retrace?
So I know as to where did begin this phase of depression
In need of a second opinion, though I trust my own discretion
Seated on a red couch in this damn confession room
The shrink wouldn't feel the hurt, I somewhat presume
Profess your pain to me, says Mr. "I know it all"
"There will be no drama", I said, so I will not ball
Its hard as I suffer from the disease of the intellect
An everyday struggle, often resulting in a disconnect
With the inner circle as well as the entire galaxy
My triumphs now resemble some doleful tragedy
As a woman, it is expected you are melancholic
A hint of rationality is often considered hyperbolic
An example of Ophelia & Hamlet is often given to me
Of her unexplained sadness and his complete insanity
I'm told often, this is how it is all supposed to transpire
Stay attractive, act needed, this is what we require
So I frequently analyze that famous Mona Lisa smile
Seems nobody studied that sheer expression of hostile
The rate of this metamorphosis has no possible measure
Though it can be stopped, to life if I were to surrender
He scribbles on, for ten pages as the narration goes on
From what I did the night before, to where I was born
Gives his final verdict, "all is well", says he with a wide grin
Tells me to start all over and let a new chapter begin
I leave his downtown office, passing by an accident site
Wishing I, instead of the victim, had seen the tunnel light
In these tall glass buildings often I see my own reflection
Of unconscious vanity, longing, suffering and rejection
There is greed of knowledge, it is at times never enough
Was forced to choose this path, in the absence of love
Unknowingly the heart is beginning to turn to stone
Imprisoned soul with dreams shattered, I now walk alone
Have to keep breathing, got to wear this pain like a medal
For I'm the one, the so called creator of this sinful devil