Treasure Island

lalitha iyer

(7.6.1967 / Kochi, India)

I can't touch you, I am a Leper


I wish to embrace you
but I am a leper
my diseases will spread
into your bed
I want to c u naked
not just without clothes
I want to peep into u
and penetrate into your inner recess
and find out the smelling soul
sleeping within
all innocent and calm
your bed I cant tread
my wounds are bleeding badly
your lips I wont touch
mine are bitten by poisonous teeth
the air I cant pollute
my germs are deadly and irritate
you are to me
a mind of hopes and dreams
I am but only
a Corpse of dying sickness
In you I see the beauty of life and Origin
I am but only a wretched Kind
my limbs are giving
my sight is dwindling
I harp on humanity
just a hope in divinity
together we will be the greatest blunder
no peacock mates with pigs eating wastes
your plumes are lovely
I am only wallowing ugly
your lines are sweet
my mind is on retreat
your world is beautiful
mine dirty and horribly real
you are in a bed of Roses
my thorny bush no sleep to me risks
I am parched and pennied
you are the King of Oceans
and counting stars in your purses
Night is YOurs
and moonlight you robe
Day is Mine
my labour's sweat is my rhyme
dropp by dropp it drenches my time
and the pinching Summer pricks my signs
your love will melt
when you see my sight
ugly face
ugly eyed
ugly dress
ugly life
in rotten food
I thrive for livelihood
you have pictures
of Angels in your mind
but, I am a crooked oldie thing
my face is full of patches
and body complete with arches
I speak words impolite
and curse at every mortal
for my life is beset with Ordeals
I am black in colour
and my breast are burnt with scars
my legs are strutting from hips
two sticks of knitting needles
they ache and pain and the disc of spine
it kills me when I rest

I have no splendour
nor in life I wonder
I am the woman of seeds
sell my body unheeded
to me love counts not
love is only a romantic notion
it's the recluse of
silly woman of Riches
they proud and pretty
walk with silks flimsy
dress to reveal more
and reveal in dresses sore
myself am a Woman in beds
my dreams are infested with blood
and sickening Odours of men of mud
my days I painfully suck
to spend I have nothing
I am just a spent stuff.

Submitted: Wednesday, March 04, 2009

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