Two words mate in my mouth
to form a third
The way, enemies become friends
The way, age-old
enemies turn lovers.
They meet some new
Some cursive, some ugliness
Both creating violent waves
with some coral cliffs of age-old consistencies
on the way to an utterance
Like the confused Sun lips blooming
before a vomit,
blooming after it.
Stoppage through a word love
of an age-old finger
on a baby lip, it’s mining out the past
with extreme thoroughness
When words were united enough
to follow the honest cry
of uncertainty.
Then one grew into a body of words,
into a word that’s body
Everything here, gets awarded with its limit
The lips were no different.
Now all that accepts a change
is our timeline
Words were meant to cease
Poems are noted, songs are recorded,
praises and curses reminisced,
kisses and betrayals pierced,
advice followed or rejected at once,
It all stops.
Love may have stopped at love
Hate, at hate
‘Either’ ceased as a confusion
‘Neither’ never moved.
Here old is old, new is new
Old is new, new is old
All defining emotions with finite sentences,
Each man as word,
each word as a cage
with impossible but easy bars
which makes him the most dangerous
and the safest.
More at https://daipayannair.wordpress.com.
