strung on a line of soft cotton linings
of yellow and fluff,
he lay curled up,
his ears folded back.
burnt sepia fur,
an eye turned blind to the world.
when he was happy,
he sang the song of gargles
in a hot water shower
after a friday night of whiskey and lemons in water.
his tail twitched like the jagged barb
at the middle gates when life reared back on its hind legs.
fickle love dusted the corners
of the scruffy soul,
warm palms swept him away.
it was cold on the court
and he chewed up a battilion large,black ants which smelt of a strange juice.
"malignant fate with looks intent"
tossed him into room 304
and hence i lift my heels
to pay him a token visit.
whiskey purrs.
"Dare i disturb the Universe?" - T.S Eliot. From Here to There, perhaps into Nowhere. My words sunk inside the ink bottle of my world.
2 comments:
uhm... no offense... but guard against falling prey to the general indian author trend... vivid descriptions, yet obscure messages... it's no doubt fun to write, but will appeal only to a small, select group of ppl
my writing is personal..i leave it at that..any thoughts of getting 'published' can fly away for now.:)
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