A promenade with no ends,
near the sea with no beginnings.
We could just have walked and walked
and walked
but the reverberations
from the salt-laden winds
convolved into a imputes purpose
of touching the crimson light softly
while caressing its voiceless moans.
The tongue relished upon its silence,
while the soul warmed its sumptuous flesh.
We embraced the blood spilt sky,
like a stranger
who makes love
to his vehement past
with eyes closed.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
The fire burns
the ashes burns
the head goes in for a spin
to a vortex which sheds reality.
I seek a cold ale
to subvert the dimensions
to escape from its wretched walls
of nothingness.
In a land of smoke,
I seek feathers,
rather than satiable grounds
cause I have been there,
my history in way of your memory.
A rain of ale
A rain of memories
A rain of wishes undone
A rain of regrets regretted.
Help me, with everything you can.
If you can,
If you all can,
Our dominion is doomed,
but the night is ours,
the shadows are ours.
We were ours
once.
Now we are for them,
we were,
Why didn’t we realize?
© Shashank Bhardwaj
The links are an illusion
the lattice is just
a thread of veins
that hold, a fragile old bottle
of sanity.
Some say, the lattice floats
in blood.
Some feel, it drowns
in dreams.
How do you beset a vision,
that contains everything
and maps nothing.
Its eyes do not work,
like us, it sees what it seeks.
It feels what it needs.
It dreams what it dreams.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
I wish the glasses
in the broken mirror
to melt and take my face along
with the lonely sharp edges.
Let us turn together
into a faceless silver
that floats and floats,
but never expresses its tides.
How good would it be,
to start all over again
to let others search for you,
for days and nights,
but you are there inside,
you were always there
and no one cared back then
and now when you are melted and pure,
they simply lose their minds.
How good would it be
to again become a newborn child,
with just curiosity in the head
and with no taste of memory.
I could laugh again,
again and again
without knowing the reasons
to stop.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
If I could breathe fire,
Winters would be sumptuous,
as snow melts, like cheese.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
So it all boils down,
to our bare fleshes.
Wrapped in perfumed laced satin,we are
discovering the ends
of each other
both physically and sensually.
Your kisses on lips
don’t work anymore.
They are now mere consolations,
bad-tempered invitations,
to my tongue, that has a developed a taste
for what lies between your legs.
Don’t push me now, to unhook you,
It’s a Pandora’s box, I tell
that leads us to an untamed copulation,
for your nipples still remember the taste of my flesh feasting on them,
as they poked my skin
without any reverence whatsoever.
Let us be done tonight,
in this uncontrollable darkness,
over this decaying wall
as I push inside you from behind,
and you ask your curves to give in.
It’s a beginning,
of building a moment that lasts an eternity in a few minutes,
yet it survives.
so let me thrust it in, take my hands to your
tamed bosoms, which are dying to be defeated to by touch, forgotten long ago.
We are all slaves tonight
to our desires
refusing to oblige.
Let us keep it that way.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
Don’t be unsettled
by the settling emotions,
Come and trace my lips,
with an atheist’s devotion.
We are nothing but shadows
destroyed by touch and light,
It’s getting darker with this onset of rain,
Let us hide in each other, tonight.
We shall slumber to melt,
for these desires should be dealt,
But not in silence, not in shyness, not in timid love,
but by forgetting ourselves, by forgetting the touch, by forgetting who we really were.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
Writings to Heaven 