Mislaid

I cannot belong you.
It would mean having to explain...
The first lie, then the next one and all the ones after.

I know now that I have been waiting to be found.
I have not been waiting to find.

Gradually, but soon, I know,
The cradle of yours arms
Won't be enough to encompass all that I bring with me,
Or all that I leave behind.

I can only love once I've had...
And will love perhaps for ever after.

Turn Back Time

Like the rivers that cannot flow backwards...
Like those people that are nowhere to be found...
Like the cold sun that refuses to shine...
Like those seasons which pass on by...
If ever there was a moment I do not think I know.
I have a memory
But I seem to forget...
Perhaps I have left it lying with dried flowers
In the pages of an old book.
Perhaps it meanders on
And meeting people on the way
Tells them my story: The one that everyone knows.
The one that I have forgotten.

The Masters

Those Men...
They've found a way to make rotten fruit look good,
They've found a way to make the dead come alive.
Those men that live in those tall black towers
Have found a way to mine the skies.

They drown little children in shallow pools
And hold maidens close by hooking
Their fingers into the crooks of their dimpled elbows.
Their breaths reek of forfeited beatitude.

They have given up their youth,
For the rest of their life.

Embrace

An army of women lives on the lusts of men.
Like denuded fruit trees
they stand tall in their bare leafless salutes.
They are nothing but discarded soldiers with names
sired by desire.

The sun has risen and it's glory is absurd.
One by one, the turmoils die.
When together, we are apart.
And there is a ripping sound when we come undone.
There are people without shadows.
And I had to borrow someone else's.

Salvage

There is old spite and new hatred,
coupled with resentful
restlessness' love making sounds.
Hands clasped and head bowed,
I see myself praying.
To the Air, Earth and Universe.
The words fall haltingly,
From trembling, petrified lips.

Walls

Today my walls have crumbeld.
Into tiny granules of dust and bone.
When I breathe in, there is ash and burnt cinders.
Somewhere I live. I yearn. I dream.
In the snarls of melancholy,
There is joy, love and inspiration.
The freedom of the heart is restrained,
And yet relentless,
Stifled it beats.

Empty Palette

My memories won't stay with me
and my thoughts walk on (in gay abandon)
I walk down a lane with no name.
Perhaps, it's memory too, set out to look at the world.

They myriad hues of purple lust, blue contempt, insipid red and green envy
Float upwards into the whirling vortex of broken pieces of a kaleidoscope,
and in the end,
The white too... is sucked out of me.

__ 1/07/2008

Heal

Breathe in, Breathe out.
Stare at the ceiling.
Blink once. Blink again.
Turn over on your stomach and pretend to be a turtle.
Think of faces.
White, Black, Grey, Yellow, Brown.
The smells, the sounds and the silences.
Pretend to care. Or stop even trying.
Deal with anger, when the timing is wrong.
Turn off the lights.
Lie down holding your breath
and try to distract yourself.

The End

It was undefatigable.
Plangent, crumbled and soporific.
There in the drowning sky
was her tumid, forbidden face,
whispering his name.

Once, when it rained forever,
he walked throughout the night.
Her breath mingled with his was
the last talisman..
It was the fragrant fragment
of his cindered dream,
that he would pawn,
that someone would sell
to buy something,
exquisitely useless.

If It Should Be So

An old journey has begun once more,
We're going where we went before.
Peeping from behind a broken door,
Perhaps we'll find what you're looking for.
Deep down somewhere in the fiery core
The love of yore, exists still pure.
Expectant always but never sure...
In this life. And forever more...

To her with love

I measure every smile I meet,
the depth of grieving sorrow
and the insolent gaiety carrying
the fragrance of her dried up tears.
In them I can smell the impatient scent of love
and the stench of fruitless pursuit
and useless perseverance.
I still own her book of love sonnets
with crumbling pages that carry the mark of sullied love.
I read them in my busiest moments,
which smell of burning paper and wet mud.

Take Heart

Far beyond the never ending expanse of grey
there is a bit of amethyst
I have been told,
"After the fog and obscurity,
a beautiful yellow
you shall behold."

Sleep Slow

Kiss on the lips and my tears too,
Draw the blinds and lie with me,
Cover me with a blanket of darkness
And tap the wood for good measure.
Green and red,
and lavender,
Plunge into the vortex with me.

Laugh a little bit softer and then let me sleep.

They

They weep and laugh at me.
They revel in my downfall.
They need me to live,
These faces of wrath.
I may denounce them whenever...
But they need me
to love them?

Their satisfactions and desires are moulded
by my discarded bits and ideals.

The masked men of a real life they peep
through
horizontal slits.
They weep and laugh at my losing my mask.

They feel burdened with my loss,
while their sense of bereavement floats
upon
winds of shame.
Masks never did have a soul...

Sacrfice

For wherever you choose to flit my love,
I shall accompany you.
In the dark abyss of my thrashing grey,
I shall let an annoying bird twitter.
I will swim in the tears of welled up eyes
and use the salt
to murder it.
For no one will hear cries in the abyss
and I shall be
with you
in peace...

__6/06/2008

Smother

You give me the life I live and yet you take it from me.
breath by breath, sigh by sigh
When you succeed, perhaps I will leave my anguish behind
as a small token of my gratitude.
You, so smug and triumphant in your makebelieve of past lifetimes
are mine through and through.
As your nurturing hands slowly strangle the life out of me, I wonder if you realise
I may not have another to even die in.
Your trying to make me live in dark smoky chambers stifles me so.
Resent you I do. But then you grudge me no less.

i LIVE a Lie

I live a lie.
I live and lie.
I lie and live.
It helps me be.

All of life.
All of this,
sense of grief,
the youngness
the youth,
the lying down
and the stepping stones
of fibs
create the farce you and I breathe.

Your guilt and my hubris
those nymp twins
pretending
that all of this is...

Cover

Water bubbles in the air and dim lights.
There's me and someone else.
Time flies for it is prudent.
Stagnant would be two if I had my way.
There is music and it grows louder slowly.
Because it knows I am Scared.
I decide to dance and the lights get dimmer
until I know it's alright to kick off my shoes.
I begin to twirl. Barefoot.

Grey

Entwined in wisps of smoke and foam and breath,
a form with no with no form with a question?
Definite currents and clandestine lovers taking shade
under the pouring tumult of steam and heat.
Lips brimming with pearls of prayers,
and an upside down umbrella to hold.

The death of Death

Today I have managed to get rid of Death.

First, we took it by it's ankles and dragged it till the edge. Then, as it screamed and writhed we shoved it in a jute sack.

We beat it black and blue with sticks until the muffled whimperings ceased and before pity overcame any of us we threw it into the ravine.

Satisfied of no more Death in the world, we followed the bloody trail of torture back into town.

Our return was a grand affair with drums and pretty girls with baskets of flowers.

We had destroyed Death and the whole town was proud of us murderers.

No more Death in the world. Perhaps only murder...

Tears

A flood of hot tears is released
and carried with it
a small boat
battered and tossed about
like wet hair being swept back...
Patient carressing of wet tangles
droplets spalshing into oblivion.

There will be more boats,
and floods, hotter maybe
and varying in size boats
will carry
my beloveds away from me.
Retracing of a way back
won't be possible
for the floods will be dry
in just days.

_ 15/09/2007

Hopes

Hope, it will kill some and keep some
alive
in bits and pieces
scattered, collected
until the realisation that
you're sustaining
it
and not it
you.
- 9/02/2002