Within

Ten thousand insects beneath the skin,

Searching for a drop of light

To die, obliterating the already dead.

- The Shepherdess

When the lightning strikes
I think of my lord
When the clouds are dark
I think of my lord
When it is dark
My friend clasps me
Thinking I am afraid
I enjoy the warmth
Even though the air outside
Is cool with rain drops
My lord has two bodies
With one he sends rain
and with the other he enjoys me
When it is raining
Though I have no virtue
He has given me the capacity to enjoy
I count myself blessed
Even if I can never reach heaven
What is the moon in heaven
If I can gaze at his face
Dark as the clouds, his smile
Breaking out like lightning
When it is raining

~scio amo

He asked me, “If you knew you would be dying in a day, what would you wish in your remaining mortal hours?”

I paused. And replied, “I would take a stroll down Park Street.”

Dripping water from the hair. Drenched in the evening downpour, I entered the pub. Unknown faces. A few known. Exchanged smiles. Twinkles in the eyes that glittered among the shabbiness and the occasional rats. “Oh, again you have coloured your hair.”“Yes,” I smiled, “Golden this time.”

Both of us knew the gold of my streaks extended its roots deep inside us. Us. Inebriated by the rum. Ensnared by words. Words that blew in the smoke from the hot cuppa in the café nearby. Words that were chewed in between the ham sandwich at the street corner. Words that were run over by the meandering traffic.

A dark alley was discovered while being in the mood for love. In another chunk of darkness wavering in between the flickering lights, I saw my namesake on an earlobe.

From Candide to Vagina Monologue, from Sans Toi to squabble over homosexuality, I tasted them all. Taking a few steps up, we sat in a corner that offered us a view. Umbrellas. Blue. Pink. Yellow. Emerald green. A shade in my mocktail glass. Smooth. Soothing. A bit like the struggling words, born from my lips that witnessed the tears sitting opposite.

Spells of disappointment. Bouts of despair made room for themselves sporadically between Spring’s red Gulmohor trees and December’s warm cuddling breaths. I thought I could create an album of Melancholy. Thoughts remained thoughts, amorphous and anomalous. Thoughts morphed into photos in black and white; into today’s me, O Park Street.

- The Shepherdess

For a Compatriot, on her Birthday

Let me weep
It is evening, and the wind blows cool
Every land is a land of exile
Let me weep for the sun that has set, for my youth that is wasted
Let me weep for my first love, for my last
I long for freedom, I long for love
Let me weep for my futile desires

~scio

(since I could not better the painting, I thought I would change the mood :p)

Show me the places of your agony, O Christ, o spring
O first born harvest, show me where the scythe has cut through thee
My lips thirst for your wounds, my brother, my spouse
I long to feel your pain, immerse me, o Christ, o stormy wind
Nothing about me is true or sincere except my prayer to you
My longing for you, my brother, my spouse
Forgive me and come to me, o dark sea, my brother, my spouse
My heart has pined for you since I knew love, do not abandon me
Forget your just wrath to me, come to me
None but you can turn me towards the path of penitence and righteousness
Do not abandon me, my parents have abandoned me, my friends have left me
Do not leave me, my sweet brother, my spouse, let me tend to your wounds
Where the roman soldier pierced your chest with a spear, and the blood flew out
Of your fair chest, like doves from a cleft in the rocks
Your hair is matted with sweat and blood, let me brush your hair dry and clean
My brother, my spouse, do not abandon me
My lips are parched for your lips where the roman soldier wetted you with vinegar
Your lips are wine-red, how fair are you my brother, how emaciated like a soldier in a Hospital, if you leave, the candles will all be extinguished
Do not leave me, show me a sign that you still love me, my brother, my sweet spouse
How handsome is my brother as he rides to war
Beware o night, o evil, o solitude, my brother is with me
See the crimson sash he wears across his soldier, with the golden and purple cross
My brother is with me, and each day is a test where we fight against the forces
Of the world
The forces of life rise in torrent after torrent, o death where is your conquest?
O misery, where is your victory, the Cross rides triumphant

~

scio

I gaze at you with another’s eye
As you pass by the road
I borrow a pair of binoculars to look at you
My eyes have lost their sense of shame
This road could be a sea
And you could be bathing there

This moment belongs neither to time nor to eternity
Neither to desire nor to its absence.

~scio

Love is not enough

I don’t want to understand what you say
I only want to watch as you speak
The angry frown in your face
I want to kiss it away, and make you angry again
I don’t want to understand what you say
I only want you to make hate to me
Like a tiger mounts a calf
And then when I am under you
I want you to pour me a glass of wine
And make it all up again
Pretend anger, pretend love, I don’t want your love
Only understand me, love only suffocates
Make me dance, and I shall be yours for today
Put your hand on my shoulder, don’t look at me
I want to desire you today
Love is not enough, love is never enough,
I only want to dance today

~Scio