Author Archives: montecyril

There is that love that is not  imbibed by the senses; but the soul  that does not manifest visually  but is the festivity of eternity  And on the clipboard of my mortal self,  it transcends time’s entire whole  How I have reworked and rewired it  with every generation, whose succession  made the continuation of posterity home?! Continue reading “She is His fortune and His fate: A poem “

Did I play all around till mushy Movember  I have traveled so far, this world won’t remember!  Should all your hypocrisy end like a shower’s plumber?  So much water in your veins makes you all dumb and dumber!  Life is no beach; the sea makes me weep!  How much treachery is there in the deep?  Birds can fly; but how the deep’s bodygrabbers leap?!   I can’t sum up the wisdom of that morphing creep!  Ba!Continue reading “There is no Pi in the Pisces: A poem “

I am no desert fox in a quixotic box  And I am no plainclothesman in his socks  But I can’t reckon and I can’t conjecture  if the fish is having its swansong?  It seems like prehistoric creatures of the deep  are still living among us, and have our keep  And they can be both wolf and fox  And, if they choose,Continue reading “Hark! Is this yellow Ark a place for the morphing shark!: A poem “

I couldn’t be bothered…  if evil wallowed in self-glorification  over its misbegotten victories  or treachery took all the corners  of even the most insulated countries  I know that corruption is mired in a convenient occlusion  that provides you with a truth that is a misconception  Its rabidity has a space all over the sky that you cannot see  YouContinue reading “What fits the fingers of my wits…?: A poem “

I resurrect within the garden of a poem  as I die with the fragrance of its futility  Its words both burying and exhuming a neglected aspiration,  even as they are juxtaposed and jinxed by oblivion  as if destiny never cared for its most colourless stones  I feel like a child wandering in stupor  in the mirrorwork of circumstance Continue reading “Living death in self-reflection: A poem “

I can still take out the childhood shoes  from the cupboard of memories  Remember, how I walked, splashing puddles  when the rainclouds finally abandoned the streets   It was like an invisible, unassumed living freedom  When the earth exhaled its newly alive breath and smells   Somehow, unparalleled fortune is in finding one’s feet  in the familiar playgrounds of expectations that are only theContinue reading “When nostalgia is a silent heartache: A poem “

I never had the dumbness of wood  It doesn’t even cry when it is lumbered  But I don’t display my tears and my face  You may think it is obscured in existential lace  But I am thorough with my easel and pen  especially when I have to do it every now and then  This magnum opus of stupidity was never disgrace  YouContinue reading “Why does God look like he is angry?: A poem “