The Vicious Nymph

The Vicious Nymph

I stumbled on your bank
you take hold of my hand
this seems a kind gesture
from a friendly creature
in my trembling seizure
you take utmost pleasure
I can’t smile but complain
yet you fancy my pain

You are a veiled sadist
I’m not a masochist
love is all I wanted
pain is all you granted
I was fit when we met
you put my soul in fret
I’m completely weary
my being is dreary

I thought you are benign
you’re the same as Siren
you tricked me into trap
which is a great mishap
how long will this romp last?
four years swiftly gone past
escape attempts are vain
but what is love with pain?

The Bird with the River Fever

A bird vitalized by anodyne creeps out
of a quilted fabric of elegant style
this bird gaits into a hot water pan
sheds the feathers of yesterday
flap its wings, garbed and hit the road

Flew into the house by the river, drown its liver
in eau de vie. Stagger out of the jacks
with single capezio and keeps the ball rolling
knocked into oblivion by sparkling
lightning and roaring thunderstorm

Its wobbly legs can’t hold the ground
like chopsticks in the noodles bowl
dropped its last quid into the wishing-well
jivin’ in the deep, jammin’ like a villain
in a portal within unending bliss and pain

Adoring the company of the lost
souls with various petrifying heads
as the night progresses, things grey out
its memories of dusk till dawn petered out
the next morn falls into a gentle ruin.

For Life and Death

Can a human be Helichrysum when
Its casing and fillings are mortal dust
An ephemeral in this hedge maze
As the microbes devours within
Carrion insects munches the surface
Psyche turns a convoluted conundrum

Water and mud? Flesh and bone?
A lightning strike in between
Die to live they said
Live then die they argued

Better live in this intricate reality
Than in a fabricated afterlife
Gracefully aging as a fine wine
Ever fresh from the vine
Living the will of the Divine
Hoping the headstone will be fine.

The Mother-Child Problem

An animal made itself special. Imperfectly perfect being
Whose mind is a clouded sky and its soul a dark poetry

Scared of its own shadow. Ignorant of its own birth and death
Asserting to be the sapience but lacks real enlightenment

You’re humiliating the Mother. Damaging her depth and surface
Claiming to be saving her when indeed you’re her by-product

What will be your fate here? Where is the Mother’s faith in you?
How can you save the Mother when she’s indeed self-sufficient

She’s all around you staring with pity. Weeping in vexation
One of the elements maybe unleashed to clear up then restore.