The Write

The write is wincing inside
System of pulleys and winches....turning.
I have an urgent need to throw up
On paper
Get intimate with
Thought.
Such close encounters
Make me a piercing hawk
Sniffing  prey
Silent game
From lofty heights of detachment.
The bizarre intensity
Circling and swooping
Over
Soon to be dead meat
Kills. ..

The
Hunter is hunted by
This business of
Endings.
When, to close a door
Means another gapes wide
Maws maniacal vicious clatter of teeth
No respite.
Better to throw every muscle
Into polished coordination
Leap on to the prey
Going in for the jugular
A soft rapid kill..
.
The  pen however is the best weapon of  the contrary mind.
It brandishes convoluted armor
Swaggering it's attitude
It flourishes whimsical squiggles
Of fancy
And dances a juggernaut of provocation on paper
Never appeased till
Its secret boat of burdens and dreams have set sail...
To sink or swim
In mid ocean...

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(c)  Amrita Valan 2015