Thursday, March 29, 2018

Daipayan Nair writes

Midnight Installations

Midnight's a woman's forgotten face,
P of nothingness butchered in half
Clock ticking a primal love, holding hands in a rubble
Warmth of kiss takes a minute 
Sting of nipple bite(s), a second
Explosion takes a second
Night walls, black smokes post-war
What attacks is the wind through a window, 
What takes away is the same
The very next air of a burnt rose,
Silent in its being, silent with its death in mine
The day, the feet stepped on the road,
Trees of compassion stood nearby 
How one erases his trails in his own disappearance
Which skeleton hasn't delivered love like an unexpected visitor
On a chilled breeze night
Ghost's love for midnight
Love's a time bomb making the bone(s) explode,
Others die much before
My room floats, just like another bubble in the sky, 
Another bubble in a glass, 
Living longer than usual, clinging to a self uselessness
My house, another bottle, clinging to its forgotten throat(s)
They're alive only at midnights
Deeper midnights have been there, are still there
The Sun governed a dark monsoon
Lost sons of love gave lost sons of war 
Love should have either been
A concentrated war-strategic night 
Or the collective cannon-hole decision at midnight
Night calls love lost and found, a platonic love,
Love within life but beyond death,
Love of the poor 
Or a mad love, I'm in, drilling black holes into every wall
Midnight has a silent cry,
In choosing between two insanities,
Allowance of breast(s) be pressed,
Its dubious scream
Can night reach death without midnight?
I watch my front door 
The one, many prefer, to enter narrowness
Its chopped goat head in red
Love's way of smiling after enclosed resistances,
Of staying in the middle
I admit, heaven has its own hell
Hell, its bigger heaven.

 burning roses feat (1)
 The Ash -- Ars Thanea

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