pain

It’s a tumultuous night
Dreams have faded slowly
Tears have been rubbed away
Insecurity is at its vertiginous height
The heart aches unbearably
Despondent desires hold their sway
The air is restless and confused
Thoughts swirl in a dark room
The mind pines for the shards of peace
Which has been shattered and abused
Love has butchered the vulnerable veins of a hapless heart
The spilt blood carries the pathetic pain to every cell
The prostrate body twitches with a start
Helplessness enshrouds the battered soul
Trust and faith have been broken apart.
The lover has played a malicious game
Deceit and betrayal has been his forte
Excuses and defenses have become far too lame.
The despotic lover lives his life
Ruthlessly he had labeled his beloved a compromise.
Paranoia of the tyrant’s infidelity had plagued the beloved’s mind
The belligerent beloved craves, sulks, pines, frets and waits
The sly lover taunts, mocks, tortures and neglects
The beloved‘s fatigued mind flirts with the idea of suicide
Death cajoles loss to take its side
Distrust chokes the beauty of love
The baleful beloved is caged like a dove
Fettered by his own emotion
A victim to his torturous lover
A hostage to his irrevocable need

So, in this unending tumultuous night
The beloved seethes and bleeds
Fresh wounds lacerate the soul to the lover’s delight.

By
Zaid al baset
© 2007 by Zaid

The Night


The naked moon pines for the warm embrace of a cloud
Stars coruscate in their solitary splendor
The sky plunges into the depths of darkness
The tress stand solemnly witnessing the age-old ritual
Orange lights illuminate a soulless city
Cars swerve in a flash of psychedelic lights
Tired legs tread home for vacant solace
The end of a cycle begins
The night cascades like thick dark mane of a goddess
Oh night ..the lonliest among the lonely

Two bodies turn against each other on opposite sides of the bed
A man shivers in delirium inside the deep tunnel of love
A woman whispers sweet nothings on her beloved’s ears
Two bodies entangle in a sacred embrace wrapped in a warm blanket
The sweet smell of sweat
The swift and staccato breaths
Two men discover sacrilege in a shabby hotel room
Hearts beat wildly
Lovers moan softly
He waits to be pressed against the wall
She can’t bear to rise and fall
A half filled glass of wine is kissed by red wet lips
Lilting music makes the wretched whore sway her hips
The night enraptures like a lover’s ballad
Oh night.. of searing desires..brighter than the burning flame
Oh night of blissful passion…when lust has lost its rein

The black widow devours her mate
In the brutal act of fornication
She is cursed to be the prey and the captor
The owls caste an evil spell
Ghosts in our fearful hearts dwell
Wasps and moths are drawn to the glaring lights
They reach the cresendo of their facile lives
The cat’s eye shine an emerald green
Street dogs howl at the corner of an empty street
Bats fly around searching for something to eat..
The night coils like a venomous snake
Oh night like the inescapable web of the black widow spider
Oh night of secret mysteries… magic wand of the true magician

The nights wraps us all in the light of darkness!!!


By
Zaid al baset
© 2007 by Zaid

He pressed the blade on his wrist. There is nothing more jeery than a failed suicide. There's a certain glory in death, a grandeur -- think Cleopatra, or Brutus. But if you fail, you are marked for life. What a queer, what an idiot, why did he do it, pathological -- thousand mockeries, smiles, only half hidden whispers, pitiful glances. If he died there would atleast be a general round of tuttut, perhaps even a condemnation of society. If he lived, universal disapproval. Was life ever so dear?

Still the blade felt nice. Cold steel on bare skin. The sleeve rolled back. He could almost imagine himself in a dark alley, maybe in a foreign country. Someone chasing him. The long arm of the law maybe, or someone he had repudiated. He rubbed his thigh. The sudden friction ran a warmth through him. A frisson? Ya, the word sounded nice.

scio.

Standing On A Rain Soaked Road

The coming and going of known and unknown faces,
Like seasons in precipitation…….
None waiting for me.

-The Shepherdess