Game Of Fire and Ice

Hey Mister,

Why won't you play a game of Twister?

I promise I won't play coy.

Won't you love it if I were your only toy?

You can be the Lion in the boardroom,

Then make me roar in the bedroom.

Let's play the game of fire and ice.

You bring the sugar, and I get the spice.

I am praying by myself these nights,

Drowning my moans when the city sleeps tight.

We can play the game of Super Sonic,

And then have our own race over some gin and tonic.

So find me, like an app can find a phone.

No, I won't bring out my Medusa and turn you into stone.

I have been getting over my fears,

Learned to make my tears into spears.

You can take me as you like.

We can go until we hear the third strike.

Comments

Polished Sins

A suit and tie, that polished smile, Covering up sins stacked mile by mile. They flaunt “new love,” someone else’s child— A ready-made story, perfectly styled. They’ve “levelled up,” or so they preach, But on someone’s pain, they made their reach, With vows of loyalty, words so neat, While another’s screams lie beneath their feet. Oh, they “moved on” to brighter skies, Leaving someone broken, with silent cries. They mount new heights, they shout and boast— Scaling peaks on another's haunted ghost. So smile for the camera, flash your pride, Show off the life that you tried to hide. For we know the truth beneath your gleam— A hollow show, a self-made scheme.

Stay Away

Stay away, stay away Keep those hands away Stay away, stay away I am not on display Stay away, stay away I just want my name on the hard black clay Stay away, stay away I am a kid who just wants to play Stay away, stay away All these memories are like a never-ending screenplay ~ Kanika Kaushal ✨ The Luminous Muse

Model Men and Their Modern Myths

Here come the men who love their pride, With “culture” on speed dial, their mothers beside them. They want a wife who’ll light the lamp, While they scroll through pages of virtual vamp. They call themselves leaders, oh so wise, But sex ed is a topic they just despise. If you ask them about anatomy's flow, They’ll stammer, then boast about paychecks to show. Progressive now, they’ll have you believe, Because daughters study, and daughters leave The home to work—but don’t go too far, Or they’ll pull you right back by some invisible bar. They crave the respect, the honour, the fame, Yet when faced with real talk, they’re quick to shame. These "modern men" with their ancient views— One foot in the past, and the other confused. Oh, fools of entitlement, kings of the mud, With egos so fragile, they’re bound to flood At the slightest nudge of applied insight— They’ll laugh, then pull you out of their sight. So here’s to these men, these leaders so grand, With “values” in one, ...

Cruising Alone

Search This Blog