She sniffed my collar bones/Upon further investigation

(Disclaimer: Two poets..over a cup of coffee..threw words at each other..some squinting it took..result..Two freshly baked poems)
(Words given to make a poem:
Cake, brown, clink, bloat, pounding, parade, investigation, bloody, nipple, itch, social, carpet, hugs, cheeky, fog, albumin, hood)


—–Upon further investigation—–

There was a clue found
hidden deep within
the smudgy gooey brown cake
recently devoured at a social gathering
where hugs and wine flowed in rivers of giggles
until a cheeky man revealed
from under his fashion street hood
a horrendous sight
an albuminy
bloaty, itchy
pounding with pulses of pleasure
after which the revelers disappeared in to the fog
the kind that descends like a cloak of embarrassment
the rest, was brushed under the carpet
of course it was a great success.



—–She sniffed my collar bones—–

and investigated my flimsy hug
she sensed an itch stitched on my albumin-chest
and our jaws clinked when she tried to
brush the dust off my nose

I swallowed a breath and puked
some dozens of fog-webs

she offered me a piece of
her nipple-shaped cake

she was nice enough to pound
for me
on her brown carpet
but I would have preferred a parapet

A social gesture that was
made her carpet bloat a little
and a parade of red ants
got dismantled & disheartened

my cheeky faith
lost its faith in womanhood that night



A (dot)

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On the morning of 31st May 1917

All your blind lovers
with their antiseptic talks
and their photogenic gawks
came to fight with me
when I was brushing my teeth

I severed their limbs with a wet white feather
..ohh god, those guys had strawberry shake in their veins

Their stapled noses talked about your
hair smell of burnt jute bags

Incarcerated for infinity in your love asylum
their fossil eyes shrinked and expanded
and blinked at 1:1000 shutter speed

All their color corrected dreams
turned into Edward Gorey’s unfinished illustrations
All their disturbed kinky poems about you
evaporated from those torn pages

I arm-wrestled with their coughs
ukhhoo ukhoooo ukhoooooo

and that was that!!


A (dot)



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With Lust & Bondage

I am not afraid anymore, to tell you all, that how much I loved you all, loved your hypocrisies, your insecurities, your fears, your twisted moralities, your idiosyncrasies and, to top it all, your stupidities. I always thought that I should hate those who lie to me or who are fake in front of me but now I know that they are the most real people ever lived on this planet. They are real because I was always unreal; I had a quaint idea of my own discontented self which was so idealist in nature that it expected ‘Idealism’ even from the last trickling drop of my yellow piss. Idealism is such a shitty word which phucks your raw instincts so badly that your first not-so-thoughtful reaction becomes conscious of its own existence. Idealism made me think about every phuckking bum who was wasting his time begging for alms for his next doze of dope. It phucking made me say good things about all those bastards and bitches who kicked me in my balls so badly that my balls almost reached my throat, but at that time my balls were also idealists so they made their way back to where they belonged. But now, I don’t have time to hate anyone, it’s so boring to take time out and think about all those bad things someone did to you, and wait a minute, did I say ‘bad’, pardon me but I don’t give a phuck about what is bad or what is good (both are the same).

Until yesterday, I used to believe that ‘Idealism’ and ‘Honesty’ was a couple and they copulated, which in turn gave birth to their idiot son ‘Patience’, other idiot son ‘Morality’, their beautiful daughter ‘Peace’ and a hermaphrodite ‘Insecurity’. But today, I got to know that ‘Honesty’ had a passionate extra-marital affair with ‘Hypocrisy’ and they illegitimately gave birth to their bastard son ‘Immorality’. She, Honesty, was so charmed by his, Hypocrisy’s, cunning attitude that she gave herself to him. Enough of this family tree, all I want to say is that I just phuckking love all those people who are sleeping around with their bosses or licking asses just to get promotion or using everything to get ahead in their life because it’s the easiest way to succeed, Accept it, but the truth is that it is easy or in fact phuck the Trufffff, truth is always boring, lies are charming, you need brains to make lies. I feel uncomfortable with all those who say that ‘oh my god I hate liars and two-faced people’, if you are saying this, it proves that you can’t resist them.

All I want to do, now, is ‘wrong’ as it gives me immense pleasure in not imitating all the moral-talkers and phuckked-up Samaritans. I want to take it to the extreme level and then I want to see why this society has been raped by all those bullshitting moral lecturers with their idealist phallus(s).

The existence of every word or a being is ambiguous and dubious. We are tempted to do the wrong things but idealist thoughts chain the temptations. It is phuuckking bondage and we all so much in love with the bondage, we expect to be chained by morality, to be tied by sincerity and to be obedient by the norms of society. I don’t think we are weak; we are just vain and blind.

P.S.: The above mentioned views are highly personal views of the sadist side of A (dot).

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I needed more of reasoning

I became him

I needed less of deceit

I became that

I needed fake flamboyance

I became this

I needed stale stimulation

I became them

I needed magnetic deception

I became her


I became him

I became that

I became them

I became her

to stir up my connived imagination that was suffocating

I became those

sabotaged stolen thoughts of disinfected prophets

I became thump

and wrote bad prose with melting ice

I became trash

and left mumps in their moral throats.



A (dot)

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