Wednesday, 3 December 2014


This poem is not dramatic
It draws no ooohs or aaahs
It won’t make your heart tick
It won’t drag on for hours
It won’t leave you on the stars
or on barren shores teary eyed

I will need a dark room
and a minimum watts onion bulb
a creaky lab stool
and speakers called HORNS
I will need an auditorium
open the doors when I’m through

This poem won’t be heard
It wasn’t even written
this poem won’t be read
I mean, who are you kidding.
You will not believe this poem
You won’t know what happened

I will sit on the creaky stool
The empty space will fill me with dread
I will clear my throat to keep cool
I will resolve to perform like a droid
 Then I will see your haughty face
you will multiply and fill every seat
 I will shrink into a grain
and you will laugh like I have goofed
and call me a scatter-brain
silence is golden, my words testify I’m a fool
 I will scurry back into oblivion
and leave this poem for HORNS and creaky stool

Friday, 31 October 2014


 how do you want me?

       corseted as you cant breathe
        with skin pale as you cant bleed
       thin as a barbie...
       lashes too heavy you cant see
       that looking at you
     I  don't see past the view
       you  painstakingly renew
       my dear are a cheap clone
       of plastic and silly-cone droves
Botox enhanced and hydrogen blown
but don't worry my sweet tote
for that is how i took note
and remains the adhesive that we still holds

Friday, 17 October 2014


Slit your throat
and watch red trickle down
the crevice between those towering mounds
-my tower on crumbling days
down fields of black sprouts,
bending to give way- surrendering

watch that firm steady gaze
waver for once -in near defeat
white turn pale red, black dilate glazed
and tears betray fear
as sturdy limbs flail and lax

now those terse lips quiver
pleading to overturn the inevitable
as white congregants turn gay
red cloaks creep slowly over their
saintly facade, filling ancient gaps

i will warm those purpling 
lips with mine and love them
and pretend to give you life
and pretend to perspire in sincere effort

... and for once
be the hero - tragic hero
return from a long forgotten battle
disheveled and unkempt by time and duty
yet victorious and unhurt
...from a duel with you

Thursday, 2 October 2014


miss the luxury of being mad
leaving crimson tear stains on ivory pillows
and canine tattoos on layers of lower-lip tissues

miss the purge of vaporized hurt escaping through my ears
the release on impact of my bare knuckles on a dumb wall
and the verbalized bile escaping the compressor in my tight chest

miss clenching my jaws till my ears ring
the exhilarating numbness of tightening a fist till it turns bloodless
or the perfect slap that manually overrides prior settings

the new I is too busy the distillery
where every thing is bottled and corked

Wednesday, 2 July 2014


Will we look
back and
in reminiscing curse
this day that we tore
with trembling hands
into jagged stripes what could
have been a masterpiece

will we
look back and
in gratitude extol
fear for stifling the flames
whose conflagration would have
left us charred beyond salvaging

will we
remain rooted
at comfortable crossroads
till forces beyond us force us
kicking and screaming…or not
along pre-ordained paths

Friday, 27 June 2014


I enjoyed the jolly walk till now
Where my toe tips tingle at the very edge
Of the dark smooth and glossy spiral that
Revolves tantalizingly, beckoning my very core
To fall into a fantasy of sensual abandon

You see the indecision of my heart
And my hesitant pulse ululates your fears.
Your pleading fingers work my body
Slowly crackling my nerves, dissolving my senses
Yet you fail to touch my mind

I peek into the inviting abyss
No doubt how much fun awaits but
After the high has cleared
And the intoxication has lifted
It’s just me and you and this crappy feeling
So no thanks, I turn on my heel and
I’ll walk

Tuesday, 25 March 2014


Towering alone, the iceberg

Prickly summit, daring the approacher

to brave the cold exterior

cross seven seas and not shudder

at the imposing build of a 

more-than-self-sufficient loner.

The warm titanic advances

Bearing the sincerest.

Bright lights, giggles, prodigal lovers

Approach the cold adversary

With careless abandon

The foolhardy risk of imminent danger

The unavoidable bruise to the side

The crashing sound of impact

Cracks  forming, spreading

 Tentacles across the cold wall.

The slow thawing process

That is replayed from scratch 

When total strangers become friends

Monday, 24 March 2014


To and fro not needing a hand

Recounting the years, those rocking bands

Cushioned downs that cushion your down

Part, against fears of taking a bow

Out. Many places, could’ve been there

Yet this motion leads nowhere.

 Arthritic joints unable to skirt

No buying time on the black market.

To and fro those loving hands,

Rock the naïve mind serenaded by fairy bands

Pretty eyes large and brown

That send hope rays through the town

Tiny ecstatic limbs kicking the air

 Cant wait to go where those hands were.

Nimble feet can’t wait to squirt

Biding time for the right sunset

Sunday, 23 February 2014



Sinister thoughts fill the cranium
Seeping, coursing, flooding, overflowing
Sending convulsive sensations down the spine
Those uneasy metacarpals, itching…
To send a calculated one to the jugular
to fossilize  this meaninglessness.

The burden on the tarsals
Mocked by the weight on the soul
The soul stole from the sole in whole
And took far beyond physical
The grim reapers’ bountiful harvest
Hanging indoors from a beam – limp.

The phalanges that cradled… no rocked
Slowly, gently in  rhythm with agony
Then stopped.
Releasing the deadly pill to induce still-ness;
The crumbling down of life processes
That began long ago with the endoskeleton