The Night Before; the Morning After

Two bodies, lie, naked on the couch, every drop of desire
Spent. They touch, and burn with a momentary flicker
Like the last, longing red of a cigarette butt.


Night, cool and motionless, dictates every inch
Of the curves to stillness. Lips, tremble and flinch
As they touch, hesitant. A deafening silence rings in the room.


Morning comes with a bad hangover and a terrible
Stench. In the market, cats and dogs and men quarrel.
Two mouths munch their thick crass sandwiches.


Cellphones, wallets, cards and scattered empty bottles
Are collected and ordered right away. A car honks and rattles
In the alley. Two bodies fade away in the blinding daylight.

Honour Killing

He shrieks. He cries out in desperate agony;

Wretched being of the soil.

She lets out a faint groan

Only to be silenced

By the cold, sharp and scrupulous fangs of morality.

The Beginner's Woes

            It all started with an apparently harmless wish of posting a comment of appreciation, a perfectly good humoured gesture of fellowship. Little did I know that I shall be tempted into the intricacies of an intimacy of the adulterous kind.  Blogging was never really my thing, or at least that's what I told myself all this while. 
             So, there I was, perfectly content and happy with my spouse of a decade, the good ol' diary, with its ink-stained pages, a blot here and there, full of meaningless sketches and incoherent poetry- the amateurish stuff.  Not a complete stranger to the world of blogging, I often browsed selected blogs, conspicuously appearing on my facebook 'News feed', but creating a blog of my own and updating it regularly seemed quite tedious.  Besides, the idea of penning down my feelings on a white little sheet of paper, populating it constantly with words, short and square, editing and re-editing, adding and omitting, and simultaneously sketching towards the edges of the page, was more endearing, than that of typing, under the supervision of the spell-checker with adjustable font sizes.  Or I was plain, lazy!
              As I stated in the very beginning, I wanted to show my appreciation for this fellow who writes a blog, by posting a comment. It turned out that in order to comment on a person's blog you need to have a profile: a blogging profile, some other kind of profile(a facebook profile won't do) or at least a Google account profile.  And this is when and how I was lured into creating a blog profile.
               Would I betray my oldest confidante? Well, I would have to try and maintain a cordial harmony between the two so that peace and solidarity prevail in the family. 


TRIVIA

1. A diary will never make you feel small because of your utter incapacity to remember and use big words.
2. It will not contain comments from aliens or superheroes or your English teacher.
3. It will not remind you of your literary inactivity with digitised accuracy every time you open it.