Tuesday, December 21, 2010

The streets

A little unfinished,
frayed around the edges.
You are.
Soot for skin, dust for eyes
and nails that dig for
discarded treasure.
There is a hole in your heart.
Running deep.
And unhope.
Running through your veins.
You grab the world in chunks
and tear it apart.
Keeping the pieces under your pillow
to make dreams at night.
Whirring helicopters and flitting lanterns.
Songs on your lips.
Yellow roses and monkey shaped balloons.
Brothers on your hips.
You are the helpless future
disguised as a lonesome child.
Sleeping under the bridge of destiny.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Questions

So what do I do with the angst?
Simmering just beneath the surface.
And what do I do with the anger
kept in check.
What do I do with the words held back?
Masticated and swallowed.
Rancid bile burning up my entrails.
And what do I do with the screams
the questions, the answers
the arguments, the defenses.
With the body of no vice,
the voice that's not allowed to rise.
Where do I drown the devil child
of my compliance?
Where do I bury it today?

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

The dance

Curtains billowing
white lace lilies
fluttering silently
in the fragrant
night breeze
the candle flames
flitting, blushing
playing a torturous
game with the shadows
of the bare autumn trees
whispering.
Shhh... Listen
listen to the music floating
on the air of the night
and the feet keeping time
a one, a two
a two, three, four,
tap and turn
silk skirts whirl
satin shoes twirl
as arms encircle
diamond rings glitter
the wine spills
red, oh so red
like the lips
slightly parted
holding in unsaid words
the music caresses my skin
as I dance alone
arms around a phantom
still air I hold
and no it's not lonely
not at all.

Friday, June 11, 2010

Osmosis

If we live in parallel universes
why aren't the membranes permeable?

Why can't I dive into your world?
Into the glory of the colours so deep
The greener grass, the inkier sea
The bloodier sky , the milkier moon
The riotous flowers gently floating
like blaring, psychedelic hallucinations

Tell me, why you can't flow into mine?
Why can't you let the dusk envelope you
The soul weld its shadow to your being
Aren't you tired of the glorious light
Don't you need a bit of soothing darkness
a bit of undisturbed silence
to lull you to sleep

Side by side, joint at the hip
are your world and mine
Disfigured conjoined twins
seemingly unaware of each others
blessed and unfortunate existences.

Tuesday, April 06, 2010

The Warrior.

The mighty warrior sets forth
wearing a crown of quiet pride.
With a fire in his brave heart
a purpose in his stride.

The world seems to glow
the colours seem to surge.
The reds of the earth with
the emeralds of the sky
today seem to merge.

As the moment comes nearer
as the enemy draws close.
As the tip of his arrow glints
the trepidation in his heart grows.

The win seems impossible
the enemy seems stronger.
The world seems to reel
the distances seem longer.

He clenches his fist
closes his eyes
feels his bow
its strength by his side.

The quiet pride returns
as he draws his bow taut.
He charges ahead into history
The battle, the greatest he fought.

Saturday, April 03, 2010

The afternoons

Loving you on a sultry afternoon.
The air languid,
the breeze still, quiet.
Birds not singing,
trees not whispering.
A blue bottle buzzing
lazily over the white lilies
you brought home.
Water dripping somewhere,
sand in the hourglass flowing.
Cats curled up in dark corners,
the milk in saucers souring.
The wall clock ticking.
An insistent tic-toc,
trying to make the
oblivious take notice.
Aah, what an attention seeker.
You ignore it.
I ignore it.
The silly flowery bedsheets,
the one too many cushions.
The forgotten tea cups
toppled over the blue rug.
The stained, dog-eared books
strewn across the floor.
The doors have been locked.
Curtains have been drawn.
The closed blinds,
make crisscrossing patterns
on the gleaming white tiles.
And the sun beams dance
to the moonlight sonata
playing on the old stereo.
A sliver of the ebony night,
a slice of the silvery moon,
on that long, sultry afternoon.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

The house by the sea

"We will take it." he said.
Of course, it was beautiful. I had nothing to complain about. In a world where everyone has to fight for just a bit of the ailing earth, a breath of the rancid air, a glimpse of the decaying sea and a piece of the pallid sky, this was ours to have.

I walked out to the balcony. I could see him. Not a flimsy streak of grey-blue somewhere in the distance, not a thin line of poisonous blood seeping through a slash in the city's concrete body, not a borrowed view as I walked down a crowded boulevard. He was all mine. My own to behold, to paint, to capture. The sea, my new moody neighbour.

His reputation travels before him. They say, at times he roars and rants. He starts quarreling absurdly with the sky, lashing out at the onlooking boulders without a reason, turning violent. You wouldn't want to catch him on a bad day. He can be rude and impudent, uncaring and insensitive. A madman angry with the world.

But they also say that on some evenings he sits back and plays the violin. The music is serene and mystical, gentle enough to lull you to sleep, sweet enough to keep your dreams beautiful. The notes make the sky blush and even the wind becomes a gently whispering, shy breeze. He can be a real charmer when he wants to. He can draw you in and keep you away from the world for as long as he wants. The magic of his deep voice, the flamboyant blues and greens of his being, the enigma of his hidden secrets, all weave their inescapable web around you and you forget your very essence.

Today, as I stand on the balcony like a lonely princess trapped in a tower, he seems to be in a mood for love. I smile and look away. I look away and look upon reality. I look upon an empty house. White walls, closed doors and rooms filled with nothingness. We will colour the walls. Autumn reds, spring greens, morning blues and midnight silver. We will unlock the doors. We will fill the rooms with idiosyncrasies, quarrels and mundane madness of life. But yet it will remain forever empty. Because what could have filled it is gone. Banished. Exiled. Locked away. Forgotten. Dead?

I look at my husband. He seems happy. The house is lovely. We are going to live here. We are going to live here, I repeat to myself. Our separate lives in our separate corners. Faces to the coloured walls, backs to the unlocked doors, in rooms filled with so much unnecessary baggage that there is no room for anything else. We are going to live here, forever.

Suddenly the walls seem to close in. I gasp and try to breath. I feel dizzy as I stumble back on to the balcony. My neighbour whispers sweet nothings and his voice calms me down. The wind caresses my face and I take deep breaths. I feel his voice getting louder, the wind getting stronger. Louder and stronger, louder and stronger. I feel the roar in my ears. I feel the rush in my body. I feel him. His binding embrace, his deep kiss. I feel all, I feel nothing.

Tuesday, March 09, 2010

The Seer

How long have I lived?
Is my hair the white
of burning desert sand?
Are my hands gnarled?
Like roots twisting, turning
desperate in their search
for just a drop of water
in the deep recesses of
this barren earth?
Does my back bend
as I tread on weary feet?
Do my knees tremble
with every faltering step?
Is there no light in my eyes?
Do you see the sorrows
swimming in their murky depths?
Like ashen, shapeless ghosts?
Is my skin like coarse parchment?
Like a yellowing paper
cracked and crumbling to dust?
Is there a tremor in my voice?
Does it sound hollow, feeble?
Has all zest left me?
Has beauty turned her back?
Can you tell me what you see?
For they say I'm young
yet I feel old.
And I dream of tragedies
yet untold.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Places

In my bare skin I lie

the night my only cover
I wrap the darkness around me
in the cold I alone shiver

In my bare skin I walk
amidst indigo blue grass
the scarlet blood flows free
the blades like shards of glass

In my bare skin I run
through forests that glow
the chasing specters close in
and in me the dijinns grow

In my bare skin I fall
to the warm yielding earth
i tricked you to your grave she says
and bubbles over with mirth

In my bare skin I lie
the night my only cover
the silver light my beacon
the moon my only lover

In my bare skin I walk
amidst indigo blue grass
the translucent sky above
my infinite looking glass

In my bare skin I run
through forests that glow
where flowers never wilt
and rivers blue flow

In my bare skin I fall
to the warm yielding earth
into the dark womb I crawl
and await my rebirth


Friday, January 29, 2010

Tales

About the cotton candy clouds
and the butter yellow sun.
The envy green grass
and the storm black bird.
The forgetful tooth fairy.
The naughty garden gnomes.
The lands I wandered.
The worlds I roamed.
Long stories, tall tales
fantastic, absurd.
In you I forever confided
not once you heard.

Tuesday, January 05, 2010

Conversation

Hush. be quiet
don't say a thing
not to the silently listening trees
not to the eavesdropping wind
the scarlet fish in the ink blue lake
are trying to listen in too
waiting in the placid waters
they are hoping they knew
our story, our secret
the spells our whispers cast
the specters of tomorrow
the silvery ghosts of our past
the blades of grass are leaning in
the leaves have stopped rustling
the moon is holding her breath i see
the fire flies no more bustling
they know not that they could wait
and wait till the end of time
why give words to thoughts
that are yours before they are mine