The Story of the Ship

The other day Sarah argued, 

about the fact that, 

the Purdah is oppressive, 

degenerate, and suffocating. 

She drew up facts to, 

support her very valid argument. 

 

There were over a hundred researchers, 

who supplied the coal to her massive ship. 

With so much coal, the ship sailed, 

across the seas without much hindrance. 

 

Except, across the horizon, 

many nights later, 

there sailed another ship, 

What was one to do? 

Cross it of course. 

 

But curiosity is human nature, 

and so Sarah sailed towards the ship, 

and when their shadows,

merged in the same waters, 

Sarah stared down at the veiled women, 

and witnessed their reflections inter merge. 

 

For a counter argument they presented. 

Backed with equal substance, 

Their ship sailed on burning coal, 

and valid faith structures. 

 

For they are the silenced, 

yet we can never speak for them. 

Their stories are their own to tell. 

Their structures are their own to build, 

and to destroy. 

 

It boils down to this, 

a coin has two sides, 

yet it is a coin, 

and its value cannot exist, 

without both sides. 

 

Accept a coin, 

flip it, 

and you might just….

you might just… 

hahahaha….

you will…

still be part of a coin. 

 

But in that toss, 

there is no order. 

Only chaos, 

or mabye luck! 🙂 

 

 

Chess and Wine

I feel insane,
I cannot think.
I cannot be poetic tonight,
I could afford a drink.

I pretend well,
I give myself that.
And let’s be honest,
I have tried to separate,
Red from white.

But but but but but,
I know I know I know.
My insanity will show,
for insecurity has been my tent,
for over 25 years or so.

I have loved once too often,
and cannot love again,
and although I’m straining,
to lie to me,
The pain kicks in again.

But not this time,
I’m used to pain.
I guess I will be hurt again,
It’s not like people love the insane.

And so it is,
My story red,
Where emotions roam,
and silently tread,
Upon a few moments,
of desires dreamed of,
yet impossible,
from what I know of…..

For what is love?
A childish game?
Or something you yearn for,
In the depths of your heart?

It doesn’t matter anyway,
Since deserving it,
Has sure been,
One heck of a bloody task!

Sure, everyone loves bodies now,
That’s a different story to tell
One I wish not to tell,
One which is silent,
and sadly emotionless,
Well, at least for them.