He carried a corpse on his shoulder A straw man made of stone And walked the nowhere path A footstep in a crowd; alone He had feathers on his broken back Which wept on silent nights And he wished for a shooting star Having never had one in sight The man was armed with silence And buried tears in each eye Had no heart of which to speak of And dared not ask why So he searched his own shadow That wet the mosaic floor And wondered if his life Even mattered anymore For he was a mortal man Who died in his own dreams And come night only his pillow Answered back his screams He thought of leaving it all And be dust and be free He thought of casting his anchor In the middle of the barren sea For him the changing world Was a wave that ever repeats And he questioned unto the chaos Why do I rhyme when nothing fits?
Her face was a prison of prisms Her eyes twin melodies of mind Her skin shone like vanishing velvet Her kiss was one of a kind But she was no fabled princess Wandering lost at his open door Nor was she a cast away goddess He had once prayed to before She was a woman in making And held her heart in her own hand She knew the world as her oyster And she a pearl in the prophetic sand She saw the world with its visage brimming With light bulbs and bright lies So she searched for the one who stood With bruises like midnight skies He was a naked man Unclothed; without a name Who counted a single star Thinking that all were same To her he was a child unfed Left to roam as a newborn in wild Once without a home Through fate utterly exiled
He saw her hand in the ocean And the world closed around his eyes As he drowned in the water that whispered Breathe now or the dream dies He felt her fingers upon his shoulder And he answered back in kind Till their lips sealed shut a secret Which no soul could ever find And they danced in the depths like dolphins Two kindred hearts as one Who wished so much for the stars That they grew their own sun So that when the leaves now rustle And the colours do not make sense They can watch the silence get slower And the rainbow go back in rain
The walls aren’t painted And there are orange pips on the table Arranged like a ten o’clock shadow Of an ornament left in a glass case And I dare not disturb Her architecture The tainted texture That peers out, as symbols, as summations Meaningless veracities, punctuated by punctuations.
I cough And the dust coughs with me For the echo is swallowed By the floorboards Beneath our feet So I dance, I tiptoe I jump and I let go To remain suspended An unlighted chandelier Burning butanol or some such nonsense In my pockets
My garden has gone grey The flowers; asthmatic Now wheeze in the wind Wrinkled and waiting For the next iteration of spring A seasonal afterlife That feels no soul smile and say; I will let you live If you follow my way
Curious is the world’s design They who smile never know why And they who claim that they do Knows in their heart that it’s a lie Is happiness something That can never be found Like corners of a map Of a world that goes round
If only I had Eyes that could see all Every thread of a thought From even streams and the stone I think I know What I would have known That this all, this enigma This play supposed to go on Is not worded by us We who think we have won For each life afterall in the end is the same Closed eyes, broken breaths And lost dreams with no name.
I have seen the diaspora, Seen it’s bulbous head set against Saturn’s sky, Felt it’s pulse, Dreaming of chalk and charcoal, Seen it’s veins, deeper nerves, Coursing through promises Like an undulating snake.
Men revise, Their adolescent mournings, teenage dreams made of, Pink flesh laid to rest, Against the grain of this world. A world long forgotten by the habit of forgetting, The shell of mirror, Slow as sinking stone, For lives lived, living, With unpolluted prose, Precise, pragmatic.
I have seen the diaspora, The laughter of death, That parallel passage, Guided by fate.
The fault never lied with dark, To light must fall the blame, For showing that of all, None are truly the same.
Half the pleasure, Lies in having nothing, And losing it all.
Here in shaped stillness, I ache for a shattering.
If my face now makes you weep Let my voice then put you to sleep So tomorrow when you awake Like a flower on someone’s grave Know there lies underneath He who asked you once to save
There has been a song in my head, Long since we met, And it had no lyrics of love, Just a music underway, I hum it when sad, When happy I whistled it twice, Only to find it everywhere, other day, With people like me; without a choice
Ivory atoned in milk, Alabaster laid in salt, Your clothes, moonlight threaded, Upon skin without a fault.
(I ramble of your beauty, When nothing is to be thought about)
Remember the vase I gifted you once, Wrinkled porcelain, Thunder in glass, And you kept it hidden, under your warm clothes, Deep in the closet, Lest no mourner of life, of eternal charm, Plucks a fountain of flower, To abide, this graceful tomb; We adore and abide and anoint, With feelings, like watered paint, like warm breathe, Or something more forgettable.
I found pieces of it the other day, Shards of symphony, Scattered voices, Gleaming, under the stairway, Spiting neon light; Forked tongue, poison.
You had after all, Plucked one, a deep dark red, It’s fragrance; my fear of all things left unsaid.
There is a reason roses have thorns, Everything comes at a price, Love is not a line in stone, Sometimes its roll of a dice.
Now you tail windmills, And I can see your feet, nestled in grass, And your hand in your hair, Untying my knots, So the new wind, the new time, Can hold you aloft And make you feel at home As if that can suffice your bohemian soul That jukebox of rhythms You shuffle to make whole.
Love to you was just a word to behold Words to you were feelings to be sold Feelings to you only a reason to be kind Reasons to you were reasons to nevermind.
I shall remember, yes, When waiting for the flowers to bloom For a ship to set sail From the corner of my room That you, love, Never cared after all This was no poem or play You were writing on the wall But my life, this meagre, stuff made of snow A candle you alighted But forgot to blow And now the wishes they linger Like rats in the rain For leftover love Not poisoned with pain…
They told me not to say The fault; It was all mine They told me not to say I am okay, its all fine They told me not to say The world is wrong from where I stand They told me not to say You will never understand They told me not to say Gods don’t walk this heathen earth They told me not to say It’s your choice to give a birth They told me not to say False truths my eyes can see They told me not to say I am thus and this is me They told me not to say We are slaves of silver linings They told me not to say Fallen stars don’t go out shinning They told me not to say There is no shepherd for this herd They told me not to say The sky don’t feel free for some old bird They told me not to say Love is a mirage of a migraine mind They told me not to say They light the lights to leave me blind They told me not to say Life can end between two thoughts They told me not to say Fate ends with a draw of lots
Will my silence be enough To let you know I am no more Will you shake your head and smile And be as you were before Will it be my laughter that you remember Decades later on a summer noon Will you ask why I never came back Or lament why I returned so soon Will my face be what you seek When thinking of things past Will you forget the first day we met Was the day that we met last Will these hands that once were mine Remain forever alone in memory Will you extend yours just to share Their shadow so I could be We Will my words ever be able to describe This ache that now I feel Will you break my heart each time You want your own to heal…
