Wednesday, March 4, 2009

the forest and the sea

our adjectives are different
you like the shore
edges meet there, singularity
i like the forest
it captures the wilderness
that escapes from you

you build your bonfire on the shore
and every once in a while
the wind scatters burnt embers from your fire
and sets ablaze the forest

under the languid clouds and effervescent sky
each time the sea douses the fire
each time the forest grows again

Tuesday, March 3, 2009


Psycho-somatic analysis of meta-stable equilibrium
Forces intersecting with disproportionate delirium
The curve of 2 dimensional thoughts
Extrapolates to infinite oblivion.
Lost in a labyrinth, a maze without doors
Walking along with ionsomniac shadows
Everything equals square-root of minus one.

your heart to keep

nobody bleeds
cause the rivers have run dry
the fishes swim aimlessly in the night
sleep has one eye on the television
only your heart catapults into my soul
someday i will not look into the mirror
someday i will burn the pages of my reason
someday the moon will echo only the only the songs of dust
till then i will preserve your heart


friday night and you're waiting to be saved
end of your line end of all the games you played
the tides of men that wash all the towns
leave just crabs and bottles crawling on the ground
you don't even hear but you can't drown all the sounds

all the roads that used to take you home
are slippery now moss on stones
you couldn't care you were just a nigger on the loose
you weren't a beggar and you couldn't choose
you lost your nerve when there was nothing else to lose

living in two worlds feigning all your sins
you hold on to the cord that binds you to your dreams
too wounded to pray there's nothing here to take
you try to stay awake but what difference does it make
the perilous edge of town is the only place that's safe

dance of the fairies

we all do what we do
and in the end there is the madness

the streets are hungry as ever
the crowds burn the effigies of venerated axioms
streams of spit and malice make the air humid
the walruses choke their cries
as the palaces burn with the stench of sad cucumbers

you came here for this?

to swim in rivulets spilling over with tadpoles
once there were the voices
but now they scratch against the empty innards
of a philistines pride
while she waits in the octopuses' lair
and in the rows of boxes with an universe inside each
where the gypsies live

the birds cry out to you tonight

maybe their last cries before their beaks are smashed
against the rueful morning clocks
the pollen in their eyes carry the blame
distilled from persecuted truths
fairies dance on the edges of teacups

what boredom
even the hour hides its excruciating nakedness
the mad bull rips all the fat skirts
and pays a scatological tribute
to the lord of deceit
and the smell of a drugged jasmine stings the skin
lofty serenades of the fiddle that broke probably ruined your head
and your arboreal soul

i peel off eyelids of molasses
and wake sleeping hyenas
their pinhead laughter
pierce termite infested hearts

icicles of rain peel off violent skin
treachery of the night and its endangered name
pigeons hold on to their skeletons with moons in their beaks
ninjas fall off dead in the gloominess of murky shadows
bald temples with their gilded idols
endure time by drinking tea

searing, buzzing screaming night
only the sad song sitting on your shoulder
can soothe the frayed ends of its madness
the edges of rooftops quiver in that song
and the colour of a dark whisper splashing in your ear

cries wash up against the sky
and rain down on the cemetery
that the child carries in his eye
and the weight of the sky on his shoulders
he doesn't shrug

the seasons and their toxic promises
a spoonful of honey
and the rest is fasting
only the cannibals survive
on the apples of a million eyes
and ants that eat into the moon

fairies dance on the edges of teacups

is it so?

you had the last laugh
you had the farthest grasp
you did well for yourself
or is it so?
the fire's curse didn't touch you
the violin strings didn't cut your brain in two
frosty stars & you thought you were safe
but is it so?


sulphur breath of gray automobiles
petrified dogs n clocks
the ice that falls from her eyes
can it be broken
by the mere dereliction of words ?


sweet smell of a wasted tomorrow lingered in her air
as if phosphor was her only element
only fields of the here and now were her abode in a wooden earth
fields where the women told tales of burning irises
the mistress of blood
she weeps off all her vulnerability

smokey back alleys
slither under her skin
and make promises of a painless birth
she drinks the blindness and all the fallacies
the bleeding hours slip through her fingers
and fall like drops of green
the lampshades of her eyebrows
crowns the pages of every postmodern tale
hibiscus of her hips echo paradoxes
of subverted greek philosophies

now that you wrap your songs with tears
and paint pictures all afternoon
to hang upside down
you always have the boatman waiting for you
to ferry you across the petals of the stars
you pick one to pay him
but he will accept only the burning embers of your hair
and slay ten thousand firestorms
to lull you to sleep


its futile
the way wounded archers shoot their arrows
at the drunken moon
the night devours those who devour themselves
and the rest turn and toss
in their pillows of green desire

these days roses shout their names
these days faces are made of newspapers
and everyone wears a necklace of tongues
only tongues are blind
blind as the chrome of dessicated desires

those who climb the rainbow
eat red and the shiver of vertigos
out of the same plate of sky
as wounded urchins

all the dawns curl up inside themselves
when snakes melt away from bodies
everything false
everything falls

uncertainty principle

my oesophagus is good
atleast it does what it shoud
so does my tongue
my tastebuds and my gums

i dont have a pantry in my car
but i have a box of castro's cigar
they say he was a shrewd man
but they also say madonna's a nun

there were three stars in the sky
one burst, the others said bye
supernovas and black holes
distill into my soul

dont think twice its all right
dylan sang while bashing his wife
everyone sings some time or the other
everyone beats his wife or his brother

some scum named heisenberg said
maybe you are not a particle but a wave
when you are a wave you are high
a grain of dust, a blink of an eye