Saturday, January 12, 2013


i wrote your name
on loneliness that frosted 
my window pane in winter
watched it
loose shape and drip
in the warmth of my breath
and trickle down
slowly till it touched
the smudge left by my palm
and till I felt it spread through me
giving me back my breath
and a little warmth
of my own

Saturday, November 10, 2012


seeds of silence
buried deep
waiting for the rain
strands of silence
webbed together
waiting for the spider
dew drops of silence
on tip of the blade
waiting for the sun
screams of silence
bound and caged
waiting for peace
colors of silence
wet and eager
waiting for the blind
search for silence
lost in words
waiting to be said

Thursday, October 25, 2012

take me

take me to the space
where my eyes cannot see
take me to that depth
to the dance beyond death
take me through your blood
oozing fragrance of the undead
take me to your womb
where i wait to be born
take me like no woman
has ever taken a man
take me

Thursday, October 18, 2012

divine dance

firm bones
soft flesh
sinking fingers
warm blood
hardened heart
smoldering fingers
in darkened caves
unborn dreams
of molten blood
trickling down
womb sheds
a little tear
joy sprouts
from every pore
painting red patterns
the goddess dances 
on the body laid bare
in sacrifice

Thursday, October 4, 2012


the shield cut away from flesh
the skin shed the snake
deep waters dance
swirling around long fingers
the sea heave to reach high
scoop up the moon
sacred blood cover the spear 
with deep tender love

Saturday, September 22, 2012

luminous night

night is still but not dark…there is sort of a luminous glow that fills the room…there is no light seeping in through the window shades from outside…it is the fragrance of a fleeting touch that is still burning the fingertips…making them smolder and glow like ambers in the fireplace in a cold winter night…like how they still glow when the lights are off and the wine is drunk and love is being made on the rug on the floor…so the room is bathed in that luminous glow…and the fragrance lingering from the touch gets mixed with that of slow burning flesh…as the fire spreads from the fingertips to the whole body…and what is held frozen inside slowly thaws…and it begins to trickle…small, small drops falling with a hissss on to the smoldering patches on the body on the inside…and I cannot see it, but can hear it…like the sound and feel of the light kiss of tender rain…time floats and sleep tiptoes up to the door, but wait in silence outside the room…very hesitant to intrude...

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

morning walk

whiff of your smell trapped
in dew drops of thoughts
swirls around in the morning mist
soft sound of your words
seep out of greenyellowbrown leaves
as they crunch under my feet
tender touch of your fingertips
come riding the breeze
caressing my face
heaviness of your heart
scooped up by monsoon clouds
make the air moist as they drift by
fireflies hiding in your eyes
light up the sky slowly
as the sun rise to a new morning

Friday, June 8, 2012

window view

little birds swim
in waves of breeze
now plunging into a dive
then up shrieking with laughter
schools of clouds sail
smooth and slow
their faint ripples
wetting edges of the mind
flowers bright yellow and red
dance deep below
smudging a little color
on dark shades of grey
little dragonflies hover
up above tiny buds
waiting for them to bubble up
and burst spraying lost memories
dusk climbs high up the watchtower
to caress my mind at the window
savoring sweet solitude
one little scoop after another

Monday, May 14, 2012

Dali and a molten lie

molten wings
of snow white birds
stain the crisp blue sky
molten smiles
of pin-up girls
hang in the sun to dry
molten flowers
on unburied coffins
wait for the corpse to die
molten words
on pale blue lips
drown the stifled cry
molten quill
in a shaky hand
paint a picture that lie

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

washed ashore the riverside

the crow with no memory
perched on her nose
pecking for the pain buried deep
toothless piranhas
had nibbled on her nipples
sucking out bubbles of trapped love
broken claw of a hermit crab
shed of celibacy
still lie buried between her legs
bits and pieces
of dumped old garbage decay
sieved and tangled in her hair
still, her cracked cold lips
part ever so slightly
for the kiss of life

Thursday, May 3, 2012

a moon in a web

a tired moon
in spider web
a fluttering smile
to the throbbing mind
a crimson sunset
deep in the eyes
a swinging heart
in threads of love
wandering fingertips
by thin film of guilt
a pounding heart
a rhythm to dance
shadows of tiredness
slowly in purple wetness
thru the web
the moon back to the sky

Saturday, April 28, 2012

a dance, a girl and some shadows

the loneliness sprouted from her navel…its seed buried somewhere deep in the darkness of her womb…it grew, a slender vine slowly growing tall and swaying with the rhythm of the dance as she sat in the dark comfort of the corner...there but not there…the vine swayed, it danced and it grew those leaves as i watched…those big large darkish green fleshy leaves which can take any form that they want…so green as life and so dark and clear that you cant see them…they caress the soft tenderness of her mind…as the darkness drip off their edges like rain sliding off leafs on to parched earth…the smell of dampness so alive and rising up in faint wisps…i want to call out her name across the river…for her to turn around and look into my eyes and connect the thread so that the snake can slither on that and reach her and wrap around her, hug her, climb the vine and shake up the leafs and spray the darkness all around and away from her mind and eat up the leaves one by one and another till they are not there and then take the vine in the mouth and suck the whole thing out…prying out the seed from where it sprouted with all the roots and everything else and spit it into the river which will take it far and away to another life and another time…so i call out her name across the river, loud and clear and strong…but then the raven comes flying from nowhere and plucks my voice from the breeze it rides and bites and chews it, shooting this pain inside me and i cry out her name again but the raven catches it in its claws this time and laughs as it spreads its wings giving more rhythm to the swaying of the leaves and they sing her a lullaby and she smiles a faint little smile for the first time that evening and the shadows of the leaves dance in rhythm with the tiny little feet on the stage and drowns my voice again as i call out across the river…it drowns with just froth and bubbles for her to see…and slowly she is blurring in the rain across the river and then only the lights and the music and the dance remains and a bit of the shadow of the leaves which touched my heart and marked it a dull crimson that i carefully wrap in fragments of thoughts to use to light this fire later after the rain and wetness goes…this fire that will light up the sky and touch her mind when she looks up sometime from thousands of miles across and will kill the shadow that caress her mind…and so i take out those fragments, unwrap the thoughts and slowly light the fire…

Sunday, March 18, 2012

looking into your eyes

riding into the midnight rain…I enter a thick dark lush forest…hooves making ripples on the ground which travel up the trees and shrubs and bushes making them change their dark green brown yellow black into deeper shades of memories which slowly start coming alive, the vines turning into serpents which hiss as they greet an old friend but slither in hunger, slither sensuous, slither in patterns, up down all over and around in the darkness which has now started glowing slowly as silence falls soft and thick like the warm gentle rain drops flavored by the touch of the green canopy of leaves and branches of trees so old as us and so tall as time and I see bits and pieces of past still alive and bleeding bound tight with barbed wire and strung and hanging from the tree tops trying to sooth their wounds with the wet silence I bring and the ripples from the hooves as I ride and the glow gets stronger and brighter as I go deeper, the gentle moonlight seeps through the canopy and it dances with the sound of the waterfall trapped somewhere deep...while in the dancing glow the serpents mate and some shed their skins and some just gently wrap themselves around the bleeding bits of the past prying those out of the barbed wire with their darting tongues and hooks in their eyes...and i ride on, climbing the ridges of the hidden rainbow where skeletons of the pain of many who traveled this way before rattles in her womb as she had taken their pain so deep into herself and set them free...but her womb made heavy with the bones and the rattle...and so now it rains…it rains heavy and dark and the serpents dance with my naked body glistening in the rain and we dance with the moonlight in the dark forest and dance with gay abandon to make the clamor and the rattle seep into the gentle silence of the rain and the whole forest can then listen to the waterfall as it still rumbles with its deep and powerful love inside, the mist rising up from it creating the rainbow with a million colors light up everything around...and I ride on deeper and deeper….deeper into the midnight rain

Sunday, September 18, 2011

not today

i collect drops of her smile as it froths bubbles and seeps little by precious little through the thin cracks in her voice as she sings in that ancient voice of hers which reminds me of stark naked unforgiving landscape bathed in setting sunlight with rugged mountains gashed by deep ravines which are as dry as the pools of my eyes with the same whirlwind trapped inside and yes, i collect those little drops of smile from the cracks in her song, gently put them drop by tiny drop into my eyes just to calm the dusty dry storms inside

and so I have this huge feeling swelling inside to catch her song in mid-air and catch where the cracks are and put my nails in between those cracks and rip it open with bleeding fingers and let the smiles pour and pour out and to just lie down with my head on her lap and let the smiles flow into the dry pools of my eyes with those dust storms raging inside for centuries and let it all get wet and calm and salty and then there would be some coolness spreading inside and some streams flowing inside and maybe just maybe a few tears too and some things fresh and beautiful will sprout and peep out and maybe that would be a smile as well but i am tired of opening these cracks a million times and letting those trapped smiles out of the songs of strange men and women

and this one, she might not even want the smiles out…out in the open where everyone can see the colors and textures of those smiles and they might touch and smudge them for ever and maybe even rob her of all of them…so i just place my cheek on the cracks of her song and feel the coolness as the smiles drip and thread on my cheek just below my eye and i want to reach out and kiss her and touch her soul somewhere which would also open up the cracks in her song and make those smiles gush out and i can bathe in them and splash them on my dusty face with weathered wrinkles which will then be smooth with the balm but i just don’t

oh, i just don’t kiss her as even without bringing my lips to hers i feel the taste of her on my tongue and how it will slowly move inside me and fill up my mind and my heart and i know it is lovely and nice and warm and fuzzy and soft and it will creep up to inside my eyes from below and slowly well up through the forgotten dried up springs inside them and maybe calm the winds and give me back my tears and sprout some smiles of my own but wtf, i am just not kissing her and not dancing with the long shadows of thoughts and feelings that have started to sway with the music and i just sit there in the stillness of the night alone with her and her song and the half hidden moon and enjoy the fear and the thrill of seeing those cracks with smiles inside again and i just am alive fully at that moment where i am suspended on a thread a million feet above in the dark lovely sky, dangling on it and shutting down my mind and heart and everything else..and just listening to the song as it rips the universe just to get me to open those thin cracks a bit wider

but no, not today

Monday, August 22, 2011

ride, bull, soul

life is moving
like a bullock cart
the left side bull's right side horn
is broken at the tip

& all horns of both bulls

are painted
blue green yellow and deep orange

the broken horn carries an agarbathi
& the fragrance spreads like
ink on a blotter
& makes a beautifully wierd pattern
in the still the horns slice through it

the minds playfully gets lost in these patterns
suddenly emerging to breathe clear air at times...
soon trying to move back again for comfort...but the patterns play hide and seek

the cart is swaying with the road
& me too
& the mind caresses faraway walls of reason
& swings back

the reigns are loosely held
& the whip has gone to sleep lying down

---the hand can touch it, the mind cant
the mind can move it, the hand cant---

the tails of the bulls
keep the flies away
& swings any way, even when
the flies die trapped in the maze, crowed by the pushy mind

the bulls droppings
are dry before they hit the hot sand
& the heat make the far away palms dance
to a rhythm
the water-maids copy with their hips
fragrance from their sweat
pull the mind out
to capture it and safe keep in the maze
for warmth in the night

a lantern is lit
& hung behind
& swing & swing
to join the fire flies
caged flame lives
free flies die

the breeze turns cool
& the birds fly home
a crow alights on bull-2 for a free ride
its dark deep eyes taunting

the minds moves the whip
& the crows' off
its laughter cracking open the dark sky
telling the world that the whip moves

lying on the cloud
& sipping chilled wine
the soul watches
the journey down

Friday, July 29, 2011


perched over my ear

the spider

gently whispers

sweet nothings


its hairy legs

begin a slow dance

tickling the base

of the neck


the web moves

slowly back and forth

swinging me softly

to sweet surrender


mind shuts down

the body opens

the soul stirs

sprouting more spiders


from every crack

every corner and nook

deep inside

the safe darkness


Tuesday, July 19, 2011


tonite as you sleep in the darkness, if i have to take something away from you, let me take your eyes…let me scoop them out with my nails and wipe them clean on my jeans of the blood and stuff that they still ooze..let me then kiss them dry softly and look at them long and tender holding them in the cup of my palms…let me dive deep into them and taste your little thoughts which lie trapped without ever coming out…gently, with the tip of my tongue so that they don’t wake up and come alive all of a sudden…let them sleep…unknown to the world, in the deep pool of darkness in the eyes…let me turn those thoughts around and separate them one by one…with a bit of me that is wet and dissolves the thick glue that binds them together…then let me ever so slowly dry them with my breath…caressing them gently as they slowly wake up…untangled and whole…and start that dance in the deep dark pools within the eyes…let me waltz with each one, by one…let me hold then close to my body…their nakedness fresh and pulsating in rhythm with my heart beat…let me swirl in the pool with them…round and round and round inside the eyes..till there is sparkle and there is fire that smolder and there is the beginning of warmth…let me then leave them to dance on and on, and slowly climb out..out of the eyes that now light up everything around..and still holding them gently in my palm, let me open your eyelids and place them back…let me kiss you on those very eyes…let my tongue glue them firm in the sockets…and then again, let me let you sleep…the sparkle and the warmth from the eyes spreading to all nooks and corners inside your body…let me see the fine strands of hair around your navel shiver as the warmth spread…let me, gently tiptoe out of your room…let me let you wake up to the lovely solitude in the warmth of darkness…glowing with the light from your eyes…

Friday, June 17, 2011

monsoon night

let me wrap myself around the empty space where you were before, just where you sat with your legs folded under you on the bed…molding my body around those contours that still throb with the warmth of your presence…let me, before the moist monsoon breeze steals that warmth with light kisses as it tip-toes around in rhythm with the raindrops drumming on the roof…let me gather those fragments of thoughts you couldn’t pack and take along with you before you left…those which shiver silently in the darkness in the loneliness left by you…let me, before they cling on to the streaks of moonlight and slither up and out through the window…and let me lie still and watch your smile as it flutter around from one precious moment to another that had bloomed at our touch…let me catch it in mid flight with cupped palms and kiss its wings…wings which sparkle with the screaming greenpurpleyellow that we painted them with…let me lie in that deep darkness and watch the twinkle in your eyes move about the room like fireflies skating on frozen silence…let me slowly peel off the layer of tiredness that crept on me through your fingertips and covered my body…let me hold you even more tight, wrapped around the space where you were, before you seep out ever so slowly, into this monsoon night

Thursday, April 7, 2011

time flies

time flies

buzz around

the rotting clock


little beggars

fight to mount

the lame horse


tortoise drags

the decaying sound

over the sand dunes


a smile leaks

from the wound

painted on your face


licking it off slowly

i stick a fresh band-aid

healing the joy inside





Tuesday, March 22, 2011

monsoon afternoon-2

small droplets

of old memories

rain softly


smell of fresh pain

rides the breeze

spread slowly


your presence

like monsoon clouds

loom dark and heavy


i escape indoors

wrapping safe solitude

tight and warm around me


Friday, March 4, 2011


rooted in the same space, the tongue dances…molding pretty words out of the messy muddy clay in my mind… words that are wet and sticky…words that promise to hold very many, very much…even without saying anything…words which then turn and turn on the wheel spun by your thoughts to shapes that you want to create…which you gather ever so tenderly…and gently place inside you where the fire is lit and the oven is hot…firing them to your perfection…nice smooth strong defined…waiting and waiting again for my wet tongue to reach out slowly…so slowly not to touch the breeze, but just the hues of your yearning spread all over your nakedness that you bare bit by bit…for me to touch taste the pain little by little…and smear paint smudge all that is inside…with bold wild licks making those colors scream so loudly… as they get burnt into the words in the heat inside you…and wait and wait for the fire to die and the oven to cool…so that we can take out those pieces that we created without our fingers getting burned and smile together marveling what we see. without words. in silence.

Friday, February 18, 2011


despite watching the cycle, despite non-penetration, despite the condom, despite the diaphragm, despite the morning after pill; the silence is pregnant. very. silence is always silent, but only at times pregnant. pregnant as in having a life forming inside. at the moment. as you watch. as you feel. as you shift uncomfortably with the knowledge. a life is forming inside. not just life, but a form which contains the life as well. which will have a full body soon. it will be born. yes, it will be born. soon enough. and it will resemble the father. maybe the mother. maybe someone’s grand father. or granmother. so the silence is pregnant. the words are never. pregnant. words are always empty. no life forming inside. simple. hollow. zilch. but that is wishful. now we have a silence. that is pregnant. it is growing. little fat tummy. soon you can see the form on the screen. feel the beat of the heart. feel the kick on the inside of the tummy. of the silence. which is pregnant. very. truly. now. shit. eat green papayas. no. silence is serene. silence is divine. pregnancy is divine. it is non-penetrative. silence is virgin. pregnant silence hangs. like in mid air. it hangs. and hangs. no one touches. all serene. all praying. let it not fall. let it not rupture. let the form inside not be born. yes. not be born. whythefuck should it. it was not to be. no need. silence. hangs. pregnant silence hangs. in collective silence. just by the rope. round its neck. slowly swinging. slowly. finally. slowly. it stops swinging. yes. dozens of eyes moving leftrightleft suddenly stops. yes. sure. they stop. it stops. silence. pregnant silence. now dead. really. and truly dead. and a smile is born. no. many. smiles are born. Whew!

Saturday, February 12, 2011


problem with blog, checking up if everything is working

Monday, January 31, 2011


magician picks one

lemming from the pack

throws it way, way back


lemming sails a while

rides the breeze

kisses the clouds with ease


end of that bit of time

it comes crashing down

leg crushed head split skin torn


runs again rushing

towards certain salvation

sad for the f-ed up magician


Tuesday, January 25, 2011

waiting room

stale smell of chloroform

slither hurriedly into the nostril

chased by different forms of fear

hatching out of thin shells

sweaty palms make abstract art

on crumpled reports, frayed files

on which stick random thoughts

faded dreams some little lies

multiple projections scream

alive, livid on the wall

re-wind re-write re-shoot

re-play another dream

time swings slowly

each wait their turn

as her long fingers dip deep

picking the next number from the urn


Monday, January 17, 2011


tarantulas are spiritual.very.they have transcended the routine mundane. they swing. they rock. they make love. and then they eat you up. yummmmm. just like that. just so coz you are good in bed. and you taste yum. and well, she is hungry after good sex. always. so i stroke this pet T that i have. gently as she swings ever so softly in her web. the one that she wove between our minds and the pasts and those stubs of insanity that we hold so deep so dear so hidden. within us. so i pet this T that i love. who has suddenly popped up again and connected another strand of the web to my mind. it tickles and she moves gently. crawling sensuously over the crevices on my mind. arousing that restlessness. that little treasured insanity. and as my eyes lock her wide wide ones, that look of absolute innocence. insane innocence. and i stroke. long fluid skin-ever-so-gently-on-skin strokes. just to discover her again. to map her in my mind. not like a picture. but. like a dance. like the water that rushes between rocks after rain. and to reach the spots that i havent reached earlier. when ever i have touched her. with the long fingers of my mind. unbraiding the braided hair that only i can see. with the nails of my thoughts. rolling the balm squeezed from our words in my palm. massaging it gently on her back as she swings on the web. as she crawls on my mind. as she trickles the restlessness alive. and the clock ticks on. and she says. it's time to spread out the bed.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010


fluttering thin silk curtains layered and layered till eternity swirling and dancing changing colors and making moving patterns as it traps the dew drops in the moonlight which seeps through the gaps in the dark dark clouds and the intermittent rain as i sit silent i sit alone i sit on that single chair with miles and miles of thick trees and shrubs and green and light green and more dark green all so alive and silent and intensely calm as i sit for ages on the cold rough stone chair and watch the sky spilt into pieces by silent lightning all over the chair touching wrapping my whole naked body and my feet so rooted in the fresh dampness of grassy earth and there is no one and nobody and no being other than the breeze and the trees and thoughts from some far away land which softly touch the mind like the dew on the silk and i sit and i sit and sit and i smile and the lightnings pause to bow to the glow that light up softly gently through the silk all the way to the other world

Monday, November 8, 2010


your smile still hangs in mid air….suspended without hooks, strings on nails and the like…long after you seeped out through the little gaps and holes I left in between the piled up words and stacked songs and sticky touches and webby stories….all of which came up bit by bit by bit…without you or even me knowing…or maybe it is without us seeing, but knowing, but not seeing…till all these towered above us shutting out everything else and making us swim in their shadows and breathe in their smell and be touched by their sweat which we rubbed gently on each other to cover the naked parts of us that glowed as we talked and understood and touched and nibbled to undress each other of everything that we wore…inside and outside…till our world grew so large with just the two of us and that outside got smaller and smaller and finally got stuffed in a full stop. period. then you just seeped through the hole and slipped out. into the full stop. still your smile hangs in here. without hooks, strings on nails and the like. you gone. seeped out. naked. without the smile. into the full stop. period.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

to she who.......

hey she who hasn’t escaped, I touch what you said. I feel it with my fingertips, I scoop the words in my palm and let it slip thru my fingers…slowly. they fall on the dark cold granite floor…like a bunch of tiny tiny steel balls….they scatter, they bounce, they sing, they dance, they paint the air with the screams stolen from the nightmares that you had wrapped around tighter and tighter around you for comfort. nightmares that saved you for a little wee bit longer from opening your eyes to yet another plastic and paint and synthetic and wtf, yet another day…with the only lingering connection with love is the dried wet patch on the bedsheet marking the spot of the act like a tombstone…it even smells of death of some dreams and if you have the courage to put your face on it you could hear the skeletons rattle in the coffin which you had built so nicely…where you hide those little toys and dolls you play with, those little bits of ribbon and pieces of broken bangles of every color of the rainbow and those little crayons with which you write those words which glow with stark darkness which gets me to fly into them and get so brunt ….and give out a stink of my flesh.. for you to sniff and sniff and slowly follow as it leads you to this place where you can come…where the mind can swing on the noose and dance and the body can shed its masks and come alive to some cool rain drops and some gentle touch and run with some wolves and dance in the wilderness to some strange music and draw more patterns in the sand telling untold stories and unsung poems …stories and poems which will be sung and sung aloud by many who travel the wild path around fires and after love and as tired sleep creeps on their minds…and they will thank you, for your escape gave them meaning. meaning To live. To love. To escape.

Friday, June 18, 2010


thick n sticky
like thoughts
in the mind
had leaked
ears, nose
blinking eyes
yawning mouth
to let the world
really happens
2 min 34 sec
for sunrise

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

an evening walk

roaches walking on stilts
plucking ripe orange eyes
half-eaten by bats
flying wearing darkglasses
little baby rabbits
burrow out pink fingers
by the glow of fireflies
trapped in glass bottles
the snake is at the bar
downing jack-on-the-rocks
bidding for the mermaid in the pool
to take home for the night
I walk swinging
Your smile in the bottle
looking around, looking under
ripping off bellies, digging out graves
for those bits and pieces
of mine
to sew on
to sew together
so that one day I can
eat with the rabbits and the bats
drink with the snake
and take the mermaid home
just for one night

Friday, May 7, 2010

one more smile

Your smile creeps from the words on the phone screen dangles for a moment on my finger, catches breath and then snakes up my hand tickling as it darts inside my sleeve up my shoulder, pause to nibble my ear-lobe and then treks up my eyebrow and then strips fully naked, dives into the still-dead-pool in my eye, creating lovely ripples that light up all that is inside and outside. One more smile pl. just for the other eye

Sunday, April 25, 2010

muse to muse

i wl be your muse
if only you wd be my witch
suck out my soul and spit it
into the cauldron and stir it
with your juice to spice it
the fire in your eyes to cook it
sip it and kiss feed me with it
lip to lip
kiss to kiss
muse to muse
wait for it to spread inside
you and me and us
and words to erupt
that wl scald the world
and scar it
for ever

Saturday, April 17, 2010

long day, young night

long day
young night
phantoms rise
on the checker board
finger tips move
tracing the path
a few killed
a few born
some pawned
some taken
none given
veils drop
shadows split
spirits merge
mind hangs
upside down
blind as a bat
no moves left
in the graveyard
the raven takes wings
in search of a moon
the bat still hangs
upside down
from her beak

Sunday, April 11, 2010

enough of these words

bury the words
in the womb
long before they are born
and learn what they
struggle to say
just by
smell touch taste
of every nook, corner
and crevice
on bare skin


Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Monday, March 22, 2010

so said the woman---7

baiting your thoughts
with my words
riding it
by its tail
as it gallops
i reach
the edge
of your mind
as it prowls
untamed by the warmth
of the grip of my thighs
reigned a bit by
my hand on the tail
what now
what next

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

stillness moves

the stillness moves
simmering bubbling frothing
in the eye
of the hurricane
the stillness moves
red hot and cold blue
untouched unmoved unattached
in the eye
of the hurricane
stillness moves
bursting spraying spreading
random thoughts feelings
sometimes scalding
sometimes freezing
never soothing
the eye
of the hurricane

Monday, February 22, 2010


garland of lilies lie
withering and heavy on your bosom-
dry taste of summer breeze
little spider stalks
gingerly on its own web-
time seeps through unnoticed
breeze blows dry dead lilies
black strands of broken web unstuck-
time moves riding your sigh


Wednesday, February 17, 2010

in the middle of that dark misty night, when all the lights went out, the moon was swallowed by the clouds, the stars blinked back their twinkle in fear, the wind tip toed touching the bare body with cold fingers, sitting at the door of that small room on the roof of that old hilltop house with cracked walls and cobwebed ceilings , as the glow of the cigerette tip died burning the fingers, the black cat who came in thru the back window was not seen, not heard but felt. felt like its soul burrowed a tunnel thru the mist and thru some hole in the body and reached deep inside and grabbed something there and sucked all debris out and connected and cleaned up the tube for us the me and the cat to connect, as we were of one tribe. it is so, that i feel you. now.

Monday, February 8, 2010

just some four letter words


Wednesday, January 13, 2010

to she on the orange chair

boredom hung listless matted tangled
heap of black long hair
hung all around from the head
as she sat on the orange plastic chair
the pain glows at the tip
as she draws life deep
plain blueish wisp
slowly drift and fade
damp twigs of thoughts
smolder in dying fire
come sweetheart
jump into the street
help paint the road
splattering abstract red
i wl catch your smile
mid air before it breaks
pour it into the empty jack bottle
and walk swinging it
in the middle of the night
lighting up the life
in that very street


Tuesday, January 5, 2010


mind keep chewing old thoughts, random memories..turning the essence like juice savored slowly swirled around the tongue…some fragments stay stuck in crevices between teeth…lips smile at the taste of the memory…living in a tiny body perched on a tiny planet rotating/revolving in a set path in a universe that is moving in a hurry somewhere at breakneck speed….the mind gets disoriented…too many things flash by through the window to the eternal space….even though there is stillness around…..we live stacked upon each other and feelings and thoughts struggle in the crowd to breathe, suddenly there comes a break as when the train rushes suddenly through a country side…we breathe fresh air….like caressing strands of old music drifting aimlessly with the breeze, like an unanticipated unadulterated kiss in the middle of a mundane-any-other-day, like the fleeting smile on the lips of a sleeping puppy ...the stink becomes just a memory for a few seconds….and eyes begin to sparkle looking ahead…making soft dreams out of all that is left and all that is gathered new.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

new era dawns

eyes dark and still
dead pool of icy ink
spreading chill
as you give me head
sucking away the stink
of love care and all that shit
the waves the waves
hit you in the gut
purple lobsters pop out
of thawing artic ice
only roaches in the mind
hairy feet tickle razor’s edge
when flipped they row
row row thick air
oh, I’m moving
trailing fluorescent stink
upside down and clawing air
a new era dawns

Wednesday, November 4, 2009


fresh from the bath
lingering freshness of nakedness
yet to be shed
the mind searches the cupboard
crumpled worn-out faded
sighing with soft musty smell
you lie hidden behind
the crisp the new the colorful
rummaging fingertips
pause feel linger
smoothen the creases
in fleeting moments remember
all that there was
all that there is
some undressed off the skin
some burnt into it

Friday, October 16, 2009

the nest

drifting strands of music
rustles the grass
in green meadows painted in the sky
ruffling my feathers as I gather

twigs of your thoughts
one after another after another
dry, dusty and brittle
softening them
with taste of our wetness
lingering in my beak
weaving a nest
in one nook of
the old sacred tree
where our silences
pause to listen
to dreams making love


Friday, September 25, 2009

a night, a drive and death

dark wind
sings as it dances
rooted in the sand
the lonely tree joins
shrubs whirl past
moving in reverse
limbs split to strands
by cold cutting wind
death licks the bugs
off the windscreen for starters
its breath frosting the glass
cutting off the road
reason panics
trapped inside
opens the window
takes flight
laughter shakes the car
upside down
the main course served
with warm sticky sauce
full, death explodes
embedding bits and pieces
deep inside the rest there
and a few away elsewhere

Saturday, September 12, 2009


the dreams
are back
the cat
the raven
the snake
One ate
the Other’s cry
lest it pierce
the Third’s eye
but the Third’s eyes bore
twin holes in One
bleeding out the cry
taunting it to try
One wrapped the oozing cry
In its voice and went mute
the Other opened its beak
to swallow the echoes growling at the peaks
the Third uncoiled the time
blurring this piece of space
eyes flipped inside out
to the sets
of real illusion