40 Year Old Virgin

Imagine going home every night
to a cold bottle of beer and,
a mother wasted on the couch after
watching her favorite soap. Still,
with the remote in her hand,
awakened now and then by her own
snore and sleep talks in between.
It was at that one particular night
when he decided to take his bottle
with him near the window, that he caught
sight of a brown dog licking his
white dog Chelsea's cunt. With big gulps,
he anticipated what would become. Only
to realize that the brown one was Chelsea's
own pup which, two years ago, he gave out to
a neighbor he's been fantasizing about.
He let out a sigh and his gaze turned to
his asleep mother on the couch. His eyes
fixated on those two bulges that seemed
to burst every time she took a long and
heavy breath. I nourished your body with
my milk, see, you never got sick.
He pictured them erect and taut at his very own
voraciousness as a babe, savaging those
now sagging breasts. It was then he realized,
A cold beer is never enough to call it a night...


By Fallen (10/17/08)-Poetry and Poets-Friendster

The Last Rendezvous

It’s a day I have forever been searching,

And forever been wishing,

In dream a mind would never find,

In a place no memory would decline.

If we ever meet,

There would be a tale called “Rendezvous”,

Woven with memories of us two,

And only in the mind, these memories were vivid.

More vivid than the eyes could remember,

And retain longer than the mind could do,

If then the grip be feeble,

Our tale would be testament to our Rendezvous’.

Reluctant to call it our Rendezvous’,

If only I could know it'll be our last,

I will hold your hands and through

Loud whisper: how dearest you are to us.

If we could not live forever

Together, our tell-tale will,

But I could not describe any lengthier,

As God will break-envy this insurmountable will.

Never wished it could end so hasty,

The pain we endured and the fondness especially,

To this brief day could be our last Rendezvous,

Only sorrow could complete our story true.

You Are Not Gone Forever

For long I wanted to whisper to you,

That you are not gone but missionary to the sky,

Incandescent in the galaxy,

Lost only in the day,

But I know you are there still,

Stubbornly lightens the sky,

Shadowing the mortal time,

It will only be time again next,

To slap myself awaken from the languor,

We have distant, long enough to purge you,

Several folds of time-space over,

But I have not despair,

You are like a destiny star guiding me,

Waiting me to hold you nightly,

One lifetime here,

But ageless in the universe,

Looking through your brimming eyes,

I have confidence in you,

Floating my hopes on you,

Now you are with me forever,

Without the air I could not breathe with life,

And without the tears I could not wean with thrift,

Feeling so the only consciousness I could construe.

That you are not gone forever.

I walked this path before

This path,

Long and weary,

Steep but scenery,

I walked here before

It was evening before dawn,

Getting darker, getting quieter,

Only crickets’ fiddles clearly in my ears,

I continued walking

But the deeper I trot,

The more jaded I become,

More aimless I should say,

That this path I walked before

Had this be morning,

The rundown might not be heavier,

As the breeze will lift me,

And the birds will sing me

I waved again the joggers,

And laughter the kids’ funny mischief,

Despaired why the appetence,

Perhaps this path I walked before alive.

The Works

In the stillness of the hall,

Frigidly forced on the wall,

Masterpiece they so called,

But my sights refuse to recall.

In the stillness of the images,

Recollected from memories,

Captured under the dabs and strokes,

Under the entangled shades.

In the stillness of the sculpt,

Wash-out white but not discolored,

So cold like a frozen spirit,

Fool to wish its intent.

In the stillness of stationarity,

Everything in perfect proportion and measure,

Hard to describe monotony,

When a person single in enclosure.

Cucumber Sate

Taste of roast and juicy cucumber,

A harmony of sort,

Onions with meat,

Cube-rice and meat muffled in gravy sauce.

Bitter taste of onions,

Tingeing mix with meat,

From sweetness of sauce to bitterness of onions,

A blend of misers but pleasure.

Gorge down roasted meat,

And succulent bits of cucumbers,

Pangs of heat from nearby grill,

Pale by the coolness of night’s wind.

Raw chance out of misers,

Tasting pungent onions and roast,

Sweetness and bitterness muddled,

Giving the night a goodnight toast.

The Emptiness Within You

Greatest of remedy is emptiness,

In everything I ever wished,

And nothing I never ditched.

Greatest of effort is naught of result,

Because of keeping wish afloat,

That has a circle without a knot.

Non-existence of wisdom to carry the emptiness,

When never wish, never measure,

Afloat only of mind in composure.

Greatest of happiness is everything but emptiness,

Because never hold wish, no more hopes,

Impregnable mind as indestructible as the will.

Will that has no existence at all,

From naught of hopes that is never kept,

Thence a beginning of true mindfulness.

Undying Flames of Love

To you my Love,

The flames I do not want it to die,

Thus I lit the room full of candles,

Till your heart move

Rose a symbol of my passion,

When your heart move,

I coveted to be your rose,

The sign of lasting passion

I want to hold you in my arms,

Kiss you in the lips,

Bring you out on a special date,

Whispering Love by your side on the bed

Embracing you fully throughout the night,

Wishing the dawn will never near,

And only brood in contemplation,

With only you at my sight.

September Blues

September a month of evergreen playfulness,

During childhood I do always remember,

September, a name so nice it was sung,

Wake me up when September ends.

Blues away, maladies everywhere,

Flood in Nepal,

Gustav floundered in the States,

And Quakes again in Sichuan.

September a month of woes,

There were never before a malady of many,

September, a name so somber it was sung,

Wake me up when September ends.

There was also a memorial to remember,

Marking the day ended of liberation,

Will we ever be free again?

Wake me up when September ends.

A Jester's Tease

Jester: the King of Humor,

Humor, chuckles the demure,

Laughter, a remedy for a gloomy day,

It shouldn’t be anyway a serious day.

Uncorrupted by despondence,

And still sober while others mourn,

Neither happy for achievement,

Nor contented over sojourn.

Dispirited over failed melancholy,

Rejoicing over agonies,

Untwisted dilemma, tease joyfully,

In the Joker’s land of cronies.

There was no hope in anticipation till,

No faith in justice writhe by the corrupts,

A mockery of system runs by filth,

No end to chaos till anger erupts.