Sink and liquid taps

Never did these pencils go around buying vegetables and lipsticks
red yeah maybe those lonely nights of photographs and whiskey
coloured words and puking a rainbow after drinking brawls

Unsaved

An absurd dream last night
waking up to Camus next to my bed to tell me that
knowing that this obnoxiously determined absent soul
doesn't strive to but will live
walls are filled up to the brim, the roof
illustrations and breath of a missing human life
a brilliantly ridiculous beginning
a flow of solid massive things
time moving in two and fro
so! I am now between yes and no
the empty smell of him billowing in my balcony
I have a shirt of his
I wash it evry day
and I put it to dry in the public
I wonder if the neighbours realise
he doesn't live here anymore.
Dishevelled, falling pieces of puzzle
tremendously bored and marvellous
as the day moved on, closed in
fornicated and read the papers.
Am I asking for too much?
I dnt even remember asking anything.
My short story book by Kafka is missing
Is it with you?
Who is it with?
Who is with me?
Trying to watch a black out on a colour TV
Clearer vision I demand
should I get a set top box?
big brother is watching all of us
does the big brother have an equally big sister?
And what does she do?
Sit behind a curtain in the church and hear confessions?
Or enter a brothel by mistake?
Does she get it everynight from a stark revolutionary man?
Is it a wide open radical thought process?
Children, mothers, preganent men
Red light, green light, make up your mind!
This is not original
its just usual
an integral part of my grown up life
like owning a car or falling in love
or wanting to live in images and not arguments.

shoebox

There is so much missing right now
the keys to my old room, the burnt frying pan
the ash filled sheets of bed between our legs
the too small a bathroom and the smaller the door
the withered lizards through day and night
sometimes hiding sometimes out there
out here under my favorite blue bulb, red bulb
the uncovered underwears
the moist smell of never washed clothes
and those slip sliding smoke rings
those papers, newspapers, toilet papers
curling, burnt rolling papers
the fear of sitting under the roofs of skyscrapers
now are here with the words
that read themselves over written on
the notes of
groceries
house deposits
bills
time
and poetry.

A life that was once alive

Something struck a wrong chord in my head last night... For a child.. who was!!
Death..
she continues...
to drink life
wall flowers growing on the grave
camels without water on the run
perception of a broken heart...
moon steals light from the sun

Children getting kicks
watching black snake slough its skin
running behind the shadow dancing
away from his own kin

Burning tears reaching out a silent scream
a muted shout
through the walls of dead silence
a man with his broken dreams
carries his young one
a blessing gone bad
a burden sans life
a shattered mirror
a child who was once alive....

Lost

Stoney friends left behind
Congregating, waiting
The burning drape making way
for a velvet night, hesitating

Watery children dodging light
A sorrowful shimmer at the end of sight
Bodies caught in a heist
ravens flopping on the heads
Crying to a feast

Faded green amidst dying shells
They listen to voices, I hear bells
Mother sings them rhymes
I listen to her muted chimes

Stones, awake through the night
Virgin morning in her golden flight
Two numbed feet by the bay
Lost children will find their way..

I dint know what to say

Hands tied
Souls intertwined
Differences arise from similarity
And we look for serendipity

Incomplete business
Complete complacency
Partial gratification
Semi partial immortality
And we all deserve happiness

Immaculate dreams
Tainted love
Invincible fears
Justified malice
And we are all humans

Bored of the self
Scared of the beloved
Dreams of death and
Breaths beyond ephemeral life

And we all succumb
to similarity
to immortality.....

Web of wood

Lose sands refused to part

As I strolled

Tired, weary, hand in hand

Dying, but not yet dead

Grains between my eyes frozen

Framing the moments slipping by nimble

Not guilty of its smudged verses

Sketches the silhoutte of our being

Do the sands not part,

it is relieved

that our tale is turning

A weightless feather

The last sign of life I saw

Was a fading light and a lonely marionette

Both hanging lifeless by a tree

Hanging by its branches too

Was I

Like questions
in a web of wood...

Paint-her

colors love me tender as I cover the naked canvas
with soft cotton threads
of scarlet and blue catching silver clouds
from imaginations glorious skies
softening them with the mist from my eyes
smothering their raw smell
all over my slender hands
like a child carefree
caressing the gentle clay
a sculptor worshipping the untidy mud
nature before its creation

colors love me tender
as I borrow the dawns sheen
bring the unsung shadows to light
walk with the unborn beings
who brawl and make love
in the dark shaky streets
of my velvet chaotic mind
running my hands over their dim faces
to recognize love from angst

colors love me tender
as the crimson drop of blood
from my scratched wound
swims through the dried creeks of my palm
leaving a faint chill on my fingertips
before varnishing a grey worn out mould
I search their nascent eyes
For my most precious fresco
the one that exists in a mocked dream
the one ill never paint

Fall apologies

She stood
By the floral fountain
Serenading the air
With lust for life
In the golden land she chose
To drink the passions
And feast with the distant brothers

Soft cool mist
Jeweled in her blonde hair
Camouflaged
From estranged footprints
Lending sparkle
To her wandering eyes
amazed
at the indifferent man
staring at her
from behind the tints
on lavish windows and polarized faces
she walked through
the quivering shadows
of unknown alleys
hesitant to welcome him
sifting cold glances
for a soft whiff of warm breath
searching for a faint sliver
in hushed lips
a muted sigh
lending freedom to a tender embrace

her ears stayed silver
waiting for the easy rhythm of tides
her heart stayed scarlet
whispering to him a cold lullaby

my presence is its own apology!

Carrest

Here
comes my baby
dressed in apathy
Oh! So cute!
She looks
quite crazy
wearing
her hollywood boots.
She
wants to drive
my hot brand new car.
And if it can’t fly
it aint fast enough.
When the car
came
crashing down lives
She seemed to have had all the fun
I wanted to cry
but
tears wouldn’t come!

Bloody Remote

Good Ol’ Big brother isn’t watching
he is singing and dancing
he is pulling rabbits out of a hat
He is holding
your attention
every minute you are awake.
he is making sure
you are always distracted
he is making sure
you are fully absorbed
hi is making sure
your imagination withers
untill its as useful as your appendix
And
this being fed
its worse than being watched.
With the world always filling you
no one has to worry what’s on your mind
With everyone’s imagination
Atrophied
No one will ever be
A threat to anything!!

Would you know

Everyone is in their own personal coma
That body lying there
I saw through the little window
You saw it through that little window
The distance you and me travelled
through and not out
that little window

sugarless whispers in her eyes
warm bruises in her last breath
don’t take what I don’t need
don’t say what I don’t mean
I hear more than
what I like to
so I boil my head in humour
laugh at all that I can’t change
throw all of it in fire
No way you silence me
because you can’t
you are
that body lying there...

Spike in my vein

In this
strange ridge of practicalitiesif you go
to find terrains
that would
suit your nervous system
you are bound
to bruise yourself
and
bleed through
your eyes
when you see
the over ornated
storehouses
in which
they would kill
to lock
your illusions away..

Goldfish

The Moon ambled
Lent light to my stream
You didn't loose me in darkness

The song floated
Lent music to your footsteps
I didn't loose you in silence

The water dried
In my stream
The blood dried
In your veins
Dead, alive
We'll stay forever bounded
By soft touch of isolation

You, bathed in gold
I, tattooed in black

U too

A grey crow perched on a lamppost
sunshine behind his back
makes me believe its black
the silent ring of the telephone
gives me questions
the answers i already know
they called me to say
hey man, what you doing to Yourself
hey man, I care
look at her feet
she walks down the blocks
blankly looking at
the cobblestones on the street
they called me strung out
hey man, what you doing to yourself
hey man, just shout
give me one more day
i wanna know
wat is that i wanna know
i think i know
i just don't wanna say!

Epiphany the sound i know

Have u heard
the light bouncing off
the walls in your room

The recitals of
Floating droplets
In her eyes
Carving A smooth immaculate shape
Of a slow dying heart

Whispering
Languid unsung melodies
of a child
untying himself
from the umbilical cord
drunk chimes of faint good byes
of friends leaving
for a distant feastin
the golden country
the soft rustle of leaves
lazy sigh of zephyr
applauding the distant birdson
cloud's highway
the shadowy tolls of nights crusade
with her caucasian warriors

muted thud
of a child's trampled clay house
Have you heard
a shattered reality..

RANTINGS

Na, it’s not true
when they tell you
That you were born
when the sky was blue
That you would live
dance to the unsung melodies
That you would grow
to catch frills and bows
That you would smile
when the clowns get high
That the only thing that matters is lie
And they would kill you
if you refuse to die

Drugged

A star
Behind its own light
A shadow
Burgeoning from its own darkness
A mirror
Reflecting its own glory
A pretence
Behind its own mask
a thief
of his own emotions
a time
in its own space
a chapter
in someone else's book
a pawn
of its own destiny
a zephyr
of its own breath
a journey
of its own galaxy
a lone wolf
behind his own pack
a shimmer
finding its own diamond
a tick
in someone else's mind bomb
a club
in someone else's deck
a façade
of someone else's mansion
a king
of someone else's kingdom
a destination
of someone else's crusade
a lost bird
in someone else's flock
a spike
in someone else's fork
a whim
of someone else's virility
a dream
never wished to come true
a fancy
waiting for its own demise

leave the wooden pink face behind, hold the soft hand of weightless shadow. Let the smoke carry you behind the chrome sun where silhouettes dwell in darkness. There, find the being!

Anonymity as it is

As the hot water fills up
The spaces between my fingers
As masochistic you might be
I run away
It's the same feeling
that engulfs me and a million others
We're all a part of crowd
Similarity as it is

Aren't you most lost in a mob
Anonymity lies
Not hiding in the creepy corners of city
But playing you fool
In the happy chirpy summer streets of your mind
The visitors are all left behind
I succumb to cavernous multiplicity
Human as it is