When I am brothel, Garden and Tomb

Brothel

It was a street

of ecstasy walked through by me

whispering  to others

the oldest tales of body and lust

every room of mine

swinging from green 

to red as the

confessions of  sperm counts

splashed the stories 

over the murals

in the caves of patriarchs.

a blind old man

with a handicapped boy

passes along my abandoned

night street with a bright torch light  

whose flames danced

on the wrecked buildings

of shameful, betrayed night parties.   

My body was dumped with the

Dark signs of kisses and

Footprints of whores

As they crossed the

Church gate of my repentance.

Garden

A wind from
west came and danced
around me
angels of love
playing violin
under the
shade of mango trees!
suddenly a group
of honeybees
started arriving
from the
kingdom of
holy nectar

as bliss.

At the eastern part
of the garden
a fig tree
sheds a single leaf

slowly
on the statue
of Buddha,
Slowly,
Slowly,
Slowly... 

Monologue of a tomb

“Rose, oh pure contradiction, delight
of being no one's sleep under so
many lids.” Epitaph of Rainer Maria Rilke

Monologue of a tomb is nothing but an echo of the dead who are alive in his dreams that were buried by the bodily destiny of five elements and its transit into the dust of eternity. It was even in the form of music and danced with the forms of stars which ran away from their Milky Way family to the taverns of nomads and acrobats of joy. The pale eternal skeleton of love and desires glittered from its phosphorous rays to express the lunar past of flesh, lonely garden of joy and agony.

The monologue goes as: “I am the eternal love of wine, I am you. Every spring has the seeds of its burning summer”