CUT OPEN A PAPAYA

OBSESSION SYMBOLISED!



CUT OPEN A PAPAYA

Cut, open a papaya.
The seeds are you in my brain
Each is you and every neuron.

The black seeds are black board
Your name is written
Class room door left open

In every emergence of  your evocation
Comes cool breeze
The letters freeze

I overwrite again and again —
Dwindling as a chalk pen
The cool breeze moisten

The letters,
Causing me trouble:
It became unrubbable

My tears not enough
To make the duster wet
It’s a threat! It’s a threat!

My system alarms:
Malware found!
It’s too late. So strong is bond.

It says
“Disk format
Or keep it corrupt”

It’s like
“You want your memory
Or amnesia?”  Misery!

Tranquilized thought…

A tranquilized thought
At the foliage of a tree
A casuarina in fact
With a carcoon in its bough.
I dilly – dally often
In the heart of the woods.
Wild black woods
Swampy with red pine leaves
Fully shed and
Obscure in foggy dews.
This tranquilized thought
Pre-ponders over the conscience
And I feel scared and scary
With a lubbard friend
Grasping each noise for hell.
I move lief
Like a dottard
Stepping each step
Hoping to slip and fall
Holding the breath for posterity.
A black boar
Crosses the parallel lined pines
Flashing its sharp tongue
As if to eat the whole nature.
It limps and runs
Only frightened but frightening.
I turn to see
And my friend is lost.
He goes through the meadows
While I still tramp
Over the swampy thorn bushes.
Trying to leap a steep
I broke my limbs
Finally to crawl with hands;
Still I whistled that old song
With painful moans as a backdrop.
The hill top is seen clearly
And I need to crawl some miles.
Well I still hummed with pain
And looked back
To find him going home
That friend of mine.
I fell to sleep
But that tranquilized thought
Pushed my weakened limbs
To crawl for glory.

BUFFET TO STARVING

My Buffet
Out of passion

BUFFET TO STARVING

I wrote like eating buffet out of passion
I sipped the soup out of your mouth.
To set the mood, get appetized.
Starters, lovely: I pick one by one, all veg:
The meat balls, the chick’s leg and thigh,
The unbarbequed steak of flesh with a button
And finally the whole undulating mermaid of a fish.
Unlike starters, the main course available here,
To the contrary, is just two in which I chose one.

For the Blazing blazons of starters
And panegyry of main course
You were the reason ofcourse.
Slowly I rejoice every morsel
Filling, burping, filling, burping
Water, now and then to lube.
I eat for body and eat for soul.
Nutrition to body, satisfaction to soul.
I eat body and I eat soul.
Your literal body and your unmatchably tasty soul.
The food, I am the food to you for
My starvation quenches your hunger.
The food, you are the food to me
To keep the libido running for pages.

Does even the immortal ink drains to crack?
Cause I’m deserted before the desserts
And no more buffet here after!
I wrote buffet out of passion.
Now out of hunger, Out of passion.

My Maturity….

I Have a Life For Me
I don’t like this zootopian World Life
Because I live anonymously,
Nobody cares about My life
While I wear cloths
Everyone only sees my inner body,
My life is always too farcical
I chose to wear my cloths
I chose my paths
I didn’t care about others
At the age of thirteen
I was sick with Maturity
At the age of eighteen
I got freedom to get out of my home
At the same time I have lost My Maturity
This world abuse my maturity
This humans are through my Honor
Those people Expropriate My Freedom.
Because all people live in zootopia
Everything is locked down in the current era!
I am afraid to tell I am a Woman…

– Hussainda

MY BEAKS HAVE GENTLE CURVES

Seagulls fare well, on the shore
It’s better to have duck soup.
Stoves blaze, inner skull heats up
Thought soups wash down duck soup.

Seagulls are unworthy, above the shore
It’s better to have creamy soup.
Stoves blaze, inner skull heats up
Idea soups wash down creamy soups.

Seagulls are fat, under the shore
It’s better to have brain soup.
Stoves blaze, inner skull heats up
Creative soups wash down brain soup.

Seagulls are unruly, beyond the shore
It’s better to have turtle soup.
Stoves blaze, inner skull heats up
Vision soups wash down turtle soup.

Seagulls are incorrigible, over the shore
It’s better to have buffalo soup.
Stoves blaze, inner skull heats up
Sense soups wash down buffalo soup.

Seagulls are lousy, beneath the shore
It’s better to have tongue soup.
Stoves blaze, inner skull heats up
Mission soups wash down tongue soup.

Seagulls are buffoons, upon the shore
It’s better to have goat soup.
Stoves blaze, inner skull heats up
Humane soups wash down goat soup.

Seagulls are dead, in the shore
It’s better to have fox soup.
Stoves blaze, inner skull heats up
Attitude soups wash down fox soup.

Love in the time of corona

I always fantasize black tie,  said miss bow tied pinky.  Mr. Iamtie fizzled with ecstasy and grinned at the thought of going on a date with miss bowtied pinky. The excitement was letting him  to think of her features,  which instantly put sordid desires between his legs.  His crotch ached and still he fizzled. Mustering more courage,  he asked ” will you go out with me? “. And what will you do,  if I go with you?, she retorted.  What will I not do?  I will do everything possible and in every means possible to please you,  Iamtie answered snappingly.  Oh!  I know people like you very well.  Your words don’t speak your actions.  You won’t be able to do nothing, but still you will brag about the shiniest black tie you sport, said bowtied pinky.  Try me miss,  I wear the lengthiest tie amidst a crowd of gothamites. I don’t flash it often,  but when I flash them, hundreds of bowties fall at my feet. Don’t downsize the power of my black tie.  It is satin smooth with bulged knots. People wonder at its stiff demeanour. I bet; you would have never seen such a splendid black tie in your life, bounced back Iamtie with provoking remarks.  Oh! Well  Then Mr.  Iamtie, will you be only texting me all your valour or have you something left to show me,  mischievously seduced bowtie. The texting continued for another fifteen minutes and it was miss bowtie’s turn to squeeze out the potential prowess of her assets.  She arrayedly described how she can change her features according to people’s taste. Flirtatiously,  she manipulated her freestyle nature.  I can be tied,  untied and clipped on Mr,  She whispered through recorded voice message.  I can change shapes. My assets can be made into the shape of a big butterfly,  a diamond point and batwings. My centre knot can be loosened and tightened.  I go wonderfully good by the looks of the person. I can be crumpled and crushed, but still I cling on fresh.  Iamtie slowly unfolded his black tie.  His hands are magical at making the knots.  Different knots for different occasions.  This time he carefully smothered his tie.  Gently picked the edge with his thumb and the ring finger.  Lifted it straight and swirled the loose end twisting it inside the hole made out by folding his fingers towards the palm.  He is a wizard in making that bulgy knot.  Miss bowtie sent another voice message.  She jocundly teased him, do you bulge your knots quickly?  No miss,  making this bulgy knot in my black-tie is an art and I have mastered the craft so well, that it takes an hour to come with that finesse, replied Iamtie. Oh. Please,  I think I should meet you immediately Mr, requested bowtie. With the black-tie in his left hand hole,  Iamtie texted with his right thumb.  It’s just not pleasure to see you miss,  but it’s my desire.  Why wait then Iamtie, I am alone at my home now and  I will be so glad to host you , coquettishly winked miss bowtie.  I have booked a rapido and will be at your doorsteps in thirty minutes miss, hurriedly replied Iamtie. Oh!  Take your time,  be easy.  I will be waiting with all passion, giggled miss bowtie.  Somehow the bulged knot of his black-tie did not loosen. He adjusted the knot and set out to the street end and waited for the rapido bike to arrive.  Miss bowtie took a shower and chose to sport two of her pinky bowties. One at the top and one at the bottom.  She chose the big butterfly wings to jut out at the top and she chose the bat wings to conceal at the bottom.  She was extremely gorgeous in her pink outfit. Smearing her pink lipstick, she fizzled in a cooing voice,  indicating her want and this wait as a pleasant experience. Iamtie was pillion riding in the rapido.  The rider was a sturdy young man. A gym goer he should be ,  thought Iamtie. He also looked at his own lean and slender body. Everything was weak and thin in him. The only big thing on him was his black tie.  Mr. Rider,  please don’t apply sudden brakes, the bulge of my tie knot is getting crushed against your body.  I am fond of my tie and I want it crumple free everytime, angrily snapped Iamtie. I am sorry sir,  don’t worry,  if anything happens to your bulgy knot,  I will re-knot it or I have a big long tie with me and I will give it to you,  casually remarked the rider.  I am satisfied with my black tie Mr and this tie and it’s bulge is meant for someone special.  I am going on a date and I want the knot to be intact for a longer duration today said Iamtie.  Good luck on that sir,  my hearty wishes for you to have a pleasurable dating experience,  wished the rider.  Mmmm..  Thanks, angrily replied Iamtie. Sir we have arrived at the destination,  twenty five rupees to pay, directed the rider.  Iamtie gave him thirty rupees and walked towards the doorsteps of his sweetheart.  He was fancying all the wonderful cuddles,  smooches and ball dance between his black-tie and her pinky bowtie. His imagination was blocked as soon as he saw the door bell.  He adjusted the knot of his black-tie once again and buzzered.  With anticipation he grinned and the door opened. He saw his sweetheart,  dressed all in  pink. Come in,  she invited.  Like a pup,  he followed her.  No blink in his eyes.  With wide open mouth he was gaping at her pink bowtie that had two huge butterfly wings jutting out. Shall I bring you milk shake, she asked.  Iamtie nodded yes,  still gaping at the butterfly wings.  She went into the kitchen and he went onto fancy the ball dance.  He forgot the bulgy knot of his black-tie.  All that he wants now is to untie her pinky bowtie and make it a clip on tie.  He knows that his hands are magical.  But now his hands are no more adjusting the bulgy knot of his black-tie.  His hands are free.  He now wants to adjust only the butterfly wings of her bowtie.  She came in with a jug of milkshake.  Banana milk shake,  here drink them,  you must be tired,  she coyishly handed over the jug.  Where is your other bowtie,  he curiously asked.  Oh! I have concealed it down.  It is a batwing, she giggled.  Can I see them,  he asked covering his anxiety with a smile.  Oh!  Sure… Why not, She slowly spread her legs while Iamtie was about to sip the milk shake. The pink bowtie there was glistening.  He was awestruck and jawstruck.   The bulgy knot of his black-tie loosened immediately as the milkshake spilled. The edge of the loosened black-tie was dripping with the milk shakes.  Iamtie was shocked at the mess he made just by gaping at her glistening pinky bowtie.  He had no idea of how it happened.  He was trying to cover the gooey end of his black-tie.  His hands were now messy.  Please use the bathroom,  giggled bowtie.  Iamtie went into the bathroom and washed his loose and limping black-tie with water.  He came out clean and his black-tie was all wet, crumpled and still clinging around him. Feeling embarrassed,  he said, Well, I think I should go now.  Anyways it was nice meeting you,  he extended his hands for a handshake.  Namaste,  said bowtie in return with folded hands.  Iamtie looked bewildered.  Why Namaste,  he asked disappointingly.  Covering her butterflies,  she retorted,  you see we are in the time of corona pandemic. 

Ode to my Pen.

You have come from neither mountains, nor flowers, nor rivers, nor oceans. But, carrying all these in you for me.

I first buzzed my glances. Then, I made you to be bloomed By opening your cylindrical petal, Where, I saw a face with golden-thorn in it. A flamboyant physique, coloured black. It was the day of my first night. You: My pen, gifted me a poem, through my delicate fingers, wrapped in erotic words until the final sweat of your ink!!!

I was dishonoured, diseased with solitude until you enter in me like a ship and tore the oceanic rust of my mind!

Now, I am yearning to see your ancestors. Who produced, Shakespeare and Milton to this world. And, wherever I go, I carry you, my ancestral beauty, in your heart. Every day and night, I get aroused by you and insert you inside my finger where, we then, play with poems!!!

Oh my celestial flower….! I still wonder, how could you contain my soul in your blue-ink goblet!!!

Tomorrow will be the season of true love. And, my age will depart through flute by flute from the mouth of nature. And, I fell like a leaf on the lap of your epitaph, under the tree made by poetry, where my eyes closed forever.