Under the Upper Hand

She goes under her covers…

As she goes undercover,

Blue skies lighting her days…

Burnt evenings tasting sour.

She looks at the sky…

In her dreams…

Tears of an angel,

Broken bells ringing aloud!

Looking at the people around…

A tear falls for the upper hand…

She thinks of the tear…

Her wings turn to ashes.

Tears going soft…

No one knows the fears…

A cut under the upper hand…

Forever sinking and crumbling.

Another gram of help…

Another life to live by…

Another piece to die for…

The upper hand takes over.

She turns to the other side now…

Slowly taking over the slow breathing…

And then I breathe my last…

At peace… Now!

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In the Waiting Line

A step out of my reality,

A step into the void,

A step towards the right,

A step in the waiting line.

Looking at the stars above,

Counting the rings in my fingers,

Staring into the abyss,

Closing into the light.

Smiling to myself,

Taking over the wheels,

I slowly burn the cigarette,

Laying on my back, happy.

Believe in what I see,

Drawing circles in the air,

The night coming to a draw,

I fade away to another day.

In the waiting line,

Passing time, smiling away,

The cold breeze passing through,

Reality and the illusion, together.

Drops of Lucidity

Splatter of hard rain on the pane,

I drink another sip from the glass,

The thunder echoing with the music,

Small sparks of the guitar thrown around.

Continuous wrapping of the wiper,

The horn still rings in my ears.

I switch off the inside light,

Taking another sip as I try to close my eyes.

He calls out to me tonight,

I see a reason to run with him,

The horn still deafening,

I look at the splatter outside, unflinching.

I let out a loud scream,

Filling my insides with the light outside,

I take the last sip,

Drops of lucidity creeping in.

A flash of nostalgia,

A sting of longing,

A moment of light,

Lucidity of Love.

Ashes to Ashes... Dust to Dust!

Have you ever tasted ashes?

Ashes in your mouth!

Have you ever tasted dust?

Groveling in your own tears!

From the ashes she rose…

Each time like a Sphinx!

And each time they pulled her down…

And they promised her the magical land…

As the demons raped her soul each time!

And they promised her the golden bird…

As they left her alone to play with their Angels…

One more step and she would reach…

And on and on she walked…

And she never stopped walking!

‘I have no time’, he said,

As he turned to play with another

‘Let it go’, she told herself each time

And they promised her the throne of Queen…

As her dress wore ruins and her hair wore moth!

She walked on tired,

Tired of all their lies,

And she wondered why she even asked…

While all she was meant to be was…

Ashes to Ashes… Dust to Dust!

And so she sat there near the pond…

Away from all their promises…

Slowly growing tired to death…

Fading into her own Ashes and Dust!

And then there were none!

She strummed pausing chords on the guitar,

A cigarette dangling on her lips loosely,

The room lay dimly lit in silence,

Smoke bellowing above the old couch.

She poured herself another drink,

Counts of lost lovers gone in each sip,

Her fingers lightly touching the wounds again,

She looks to the glass ceiling on to the stars.

Brightly lit candles give her company,

She sits after a sold out night,

Looking dazzling in her indifference,

In an empty room of scotch and cigarettes.

Laughter of innumerable voices,

Now lost to the grieving room,

Soul sold off to the highest bidder,

An artist’s voice now on hire.

First went the music…

Then it was the lovers…

And then the dazzle…

And then there was None!

Change the Song

He touched her arms lightly,

Tunes filling the cold breeze,

Glow of the world beneath,

Shining into stars in a mob.

Time eluding everyone,

Notes of eras meshed in,

Waves of nostalgia,

Engulfing with a touch.

Bass in a different line…

Snowing in the summer…

Fireworks of memories…

Deserted in strands of life.

Echoes of lust in the air…

Webbed lines of sanity…

Nights caught in wasps…

Broken vows of insanity.

They tell you about the end,

They like to think of dreams,

They tell you of belief in Magic,

They tell you to change the Song.

Folsom Blues

The more I stayed the same…

The more things around me changed…

Hues of different eras meshed in…

Lost in a haze of Psychedelic…

Running into the unending nothing…

Running between walls of my own make,

Running without a thought in my head…

Running away from Pandora…

Pandora pulls me closer…

Gravity killing me inside…

Light within breaking out…

Echoes of my laughter…

Six feet under my virtues…

Six feet under my memories…

Six feet under my smiles…

Six feet under my blues…