The Cloth Line

How strange it is when I look back,
In loving memories of passing time,
The unwashed clothes in my laundry bag knows I am in love with your memory,
The last time they were soaked in your fragrance, drying on your cloth line.

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Puritan's of Sex:

Dated way back in the history of China and America where the government had infiltrated into the bedrooms of its people, sex lost its profound meaning.
Regulators of sex, imposing laws on human bodies started a war with civilization. Narcissistic revolution of women was the sole target because men had no control of their penis and lust. The dominance over a female's body resulted in prostitution which no government acknowledged. Abortion is a choice and not a crime. Contraceptives were for women first and men could still flaunt manliness.

A desire to sleep or a passion driven by love, a body is not a slave of constitutional vandalism. The pseudo superior men trying to hegemonize women through various atrocities as they derelish their failure in satisfying a women's desire. Legalizing prostitution would shame the men who hide their faces behind the closed doors. A women has her right to be satisfied on the bed and my inability to do so is not her fault.

Rise today, and speak! Let's empower and fulfil our desire on bed. Take control and unfold.

Dedicated to all the women who understands and desires sex.

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She wanders in transfused love, sedated by the toxins of past.
She writes about her haunted days, dreams mock her while they disappear.

Her chastity seduced by the illusion of a demons love, titillating her body in leery arousal.
The enticement she feels tonight, lost in the ambivalence past, brooding with the night fall, she gives up on love and in the eye of the storm she falls for love again.

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The wetness of the soul tickled between her thighs,
When she wanted to be drenched in the compassion of love.

Fondling her gently he kissed her beauty in compassion,
Two bare bodies creating warmth, the friction emulating love from their hearts.

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Every night lying beside you, feeling your nakedness in my soul,
My hands rolling through your bruised skin, caressing the ugly scars of past.
I tickle down to your waist, through your ravenous bosoms igniting our love.
Then you pull me close and roll your tongue on mine, every unsaid word that made home returns to paradise.
I feel the warmth radiating and the wetness longing in your souls.
Making love to you everynight, falling in your arms and cuddling you until daylight, takes me to a place called home.

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Tonight @ 1:45 a.m soon after she fell asleep over the call, the lama in the monastery with his obnoxious prediction through his closed eyes filled my mind. The fear of acceptance started to soil my existence in life. The previous night wasn't an easy one when we both broke down into tears and went back to sleep happy in each others arms as we did everynight. The world was busy settling with their convictions of life, family, money, status etc. The monk could see the future from is drawing room through closed eyes, and had seen nothing for himself. He was happy looking into others. What was I thinking? The challenges of living a life with open eyes and real dreams. Bonds, connections, affections, duality and its paradigm are meant to be real. A hitchhiker by thought has the least and lives the most. We would regret more of what we didn't do than what went wrong. What we feel everyday couldn't be streamlined to a fear. To feel is to live, to fear is to die, to love is to belong. We all need to live,die but belonging bridges the distance. Life is uncertain and it's true for we are lost and unsure where we belong.

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Ek maan ka behem hai, ek rooh ka Sukoon
Sath baithe to zindagi nikal jaye, jo na baithe to yeh Jung zindagi ki jari hai.

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Manziley us mukaam pe hai, jaha Nazar humse nazre fer leti hai.
Ehsas ki baat aur hai, Dil to parindo mein baste hai.
Ek nazm uske Naam jab woh nazakat se ghunghat hataye apna rasta mod leti hai.

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The mirror fell in love with the ugliest person she thought herself to be.

Love wasn't for the beauty of the face after all.

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Jab gum ansu ke sath ghulta hai, ek aur Mohabbat Hoti hai,
Jab Raat sannate mein jagti ho, woh mujhse lipat ke roti hai,

Ek khat Jo kabhi Na likha, usme woh nazakat hoti hai
Jo dikh jaye woh tujhe kabhi agar, woh alfaz Mohabbat hoti hai

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