Category: Esoteric


Cleopatra my Love

Elizabeth-Taylor-in-Cleopatra_art

Oh Cleopatra!
The woman of infinite variety
Your fickle emotions,
subtle gestures, boundless charm
and volatile feelings
that make up your variety,
-I’d dealt only in books.
And wondered
Man-o-man!
Am i capable of this variety?
A complete human avatar, i believe you are
in all its blacks and whites and grays.

Cleopatra, my love,
Motley Fabric suits you best
For in it your variety’s well expressed.
Motley fabric;  classy but!
-not the mediocre,  strictly.
Strictly, ’cause you’re majestic, originally.
And majestic calls for elegance.

Variety is your beauty,  Cleopatra
Your physicality though grand,
is not as beautiful as your variety.
Surprised like a child
wonder struck i stand
each time you show me your variety.

Variety is not just your beauty, Cleopatra
It’s more importantly your strength
To keep moving
from blues to rainbows
and for the beauty beyond
– glossing up the matte reality.
And the sudden bliss it discovers
Could be as beautiful as
Koi no yokan.
And if this bliss ends abruptly,
you can always turn to your beauty,
which is
your variety.

-Sruthi Sikhamani

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The Hateful Mirage

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Dazed has been the view,

Impaired, the vision,

-or rather, made impaired,

-through these polarized sunglasses,

made polarized for some

ulterior motive.

Polarized, not constantly.

Polarized, but frequently.

Stepping in innocent,

Deceitful, the illusion has been.

wavering between

the real and unreal.

Uh! The real, is there at all?

Or is it the low vision?

Pleasantries after Pleasantries,

Jaw-drop smiles,

Shady concerns and

Full-blown,but genuine hatred-

-All part of the daze.

It is boredom.

Severe boredom

Leading to a thought of escape

A victorious escape

From the illusory shit.

Only hatred is the emotion

For the one responsible

For creating this mega shit.

Mega- at least for the one’s here,  it is.

Though a spec-like shit

It may be from the aerial.

A whole bunch of nonsensical figures

With hands and legs

And a dirty mind

-As companions here it is.

– In the name of

Faux love.

Drained of heart-to-hearts

The heart is about to explode

Weight intolerant hereafter

Looking forward to the

Grand escape

Imagining new worlds

Bored with the

Furthest reaches of this one.

~ Sruthi Sikhamani

father.daughter

A faint emotion of empathy in me creeps.

But,

Only after he agonizes,

Agonizes, agonizes,

And after he agonizes

much over me.

The anger-steaming blood

to him from parents had fled.

But for empathy slow-paced,

blame upon him i placed.

Silence, his nature sometimes,

i equaled to unconcern.

Diatribes, his concealed concern,

i attributed to disdain.

Unparaded Love-

on earth only he for me has.

But wisdom wakes within

only when time thumps living.

Unsung,

At this age, care he seeks

And a shift he pleads

From my dad, to my chap.

-(Sruthi Sikhamani)

The Onion

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It’s you I liked,

for peeling me.

For peeling me-

Layer by layer,

sometimes in a hurry

and othertimes gently.

For tough I made-

to peel my peel,

through tears you did-

to peel my peel.

Light you showed

Air I breathed

Touch I felt

Songs you craved

-and all of this

as you peeled.

But if all-peeled

What be me?

So I leave,

With half skin peeled.

-(Sruthi Sikhamani)

Of That

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It knows not any honor, duty or law-

since it is raw.

Intelligence it subdues

but insulars the blues.

Synonyms of bliss-

Its fruits.

Antonyms of agony-

its presence.

More heart than head-

it blurbs its bearings

but blurs all conscience.

Yet much sought,

by souls all rot-

for unmatched the moments it plots.

       ~Sruthi Sikhamani