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
I know you don’t have to listen To all that I have to say And to be true I am just talking To myself everyday It’s sad, I know: To see myself smile And even the reflection To return it Only once in a while…
We talk like strangers Unwilling to laugh Unable to cry Like two shells remembering The sound of a sea Buried deep Somewhere In fissures of our bone… Yours too my love? Or of mine alone?
I was wrong to dream, wasn’t I? Wrong to feel Wrong to hope A fool who thought her happiness starts At the end of his joke O Pagliacci, Pagliacci Thou story of my life Why didn’t you laugh and say: It’s the heart which pierced the knife
Bye now, it’s late And I have old wounds to tear Like promises to make love Or I wish you were here The night is still young Do not waste it on me You had my life once But you never stopped to see
I have spent half my life Looking how I was wanted to be seen Powdered to the tip of my nose Accurately thin With anklets on my feet That laughed alone in night And a locket round my neck Buried out of sight I had flowers on my frocks When I was a lotus bud soft pink And roses in my hair locks When I was allowed to think As if my beauty was just a face Without a wish or voice As if being born the way I was Had something to do with choice If only I could have told them then The thoughts I had in my mind Of my mantelpiece existence Of being beautiful but kept blind Alone as my own mirror Echoing solitude Days spent dressed for the world to wonder And nights being ashamed to be nude
In this sudden stillness A final silence grows From beneath the dead branches Enveloping ants and Angels alike
The dry mist of purpose That once haunted men Now haunts their monuments The mindless mortar Made and remade For each thought And every contour Which seeks in itself The forever form That everlasting aspiration Of becoming a being
But the Promethean promises Are but promises Just as the silhouette stems from the shape So does the shape is rooted in the silhouette Like a circle trapped Within its own circumference Sans a seen beginning Sans any unseen end
There is a witness For every arrival Till no one arrives anymore And then the fishes are left alone in the desert To drown in the mirage of memories The breathing carcass Reminiscent of living In an abandoned womb Never to awake Never to walk Like ages unspent Upon the faces of the rock
I saw my children standing in the rain Their faces lined with age and late reason Watched the abandoned bicycles And broken seesaws Being pulled down by the weight of raindrops Their hands, long and thin, like dead seaweed in the summer wind Their legs green and gold, like new leaves suddenly old Seemed painted In the moist color of quiet The abandoned delight Having dissolved In the lament of the rain They turn; the motion a sad song An unfinished lullaby To look at me with eyes Half awake but never asleep As if I with my window earned wisdom Would know Why all things grow Only to die If life in the very virtue of living Is a lie But they know the answer As well as me It is better to forget than to believe what we see In the everyday aftermath Of the daily demise Of choices left to chances And promises made before goodbyes For in the end all paths Shall return where they began Even the oceans with all their eternity Are but remains of the rain…
She was a painted panther Black skin and velvet dye Her eyes had all the answers But her lips knew when to lie Her home was a silver wasteland A piece of moon was her throne at night She spoke only in shadows And heard only the sound of light Her shape was god and movement And her name was without a face People worshipped her from far Like a pilgrim without a place And before long we all will be dreaming Her dreams on the final bed Where all eyes turn inward ever after And no more any word is said Because she was a painted panther Black skin and velvet dye Her eyes had all the answers But her lips knew when to lie
What heaven and earth shall answer me What fire and brimstone shall answer me What thunder and tempest shall answer me When all I ask in a whisper Is the source of their silence
