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…
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…
Camouflaged in the night Like outline of shredded trees I walked beyond the cliff with caterpillar footsteps Where Four Horses of Wind Stood grazing in the grove While the maiden with reins Having fallen in love With my absence, now looking up Laughed; the sound like hooves running in her throat, So I sat there in the center of the dying daffodils, On the eve; as rootless and trodden as any And listened to what the world has to say But sadly there were far too many; People talking about themselves, like children running circles around pillars asking: Why do silent halls echo? And closed eyes cannot see? As if I am a mirror to be mastered by their practiced soliloquy: No more, no more, my hollow mind; no more, For I weep for the thistle town burning by the shore Black windows watching the white horizon Coming closer for an embrace When the sun is cold in the night While the sea shapes the souls of sand The maiden sits beside me And whisper That the stars are dust from her hand O I see now, I see Myself on a mountain lying Alone upon the apogee To fall asleep with the sky As a pillow beneath my neck And the ocean extending her arms For me to quietly take Before I go, before I am gone With the maiden of the night Before I know that the colours of rainbow Are seven sins of white…
Let me fall now, no Let me fade away instead I am tired of being ever alone Of being always afraid
I was a fool to grapple with the dark, you know, A fool to light my heart on fire A fool to eat the wounded ashes To taste the honey of that sweet desire
I was blind with my eyes open Blind to the water rising around my waist Blind to see that I with my words Was no different than the rest
So here I am now, here, A face amongst other faces: All fools condemned henceforth To die; by hanging on her tresses
I should have known it, I should have For it was no secret after all That there was magic in her voice And that it was a siren’s call
It was this damned dream, you see, To be together in the end So surreal that I forgot It was all make-believe, a pretend
I am going now, I am gone There are other lovers in the line They ask me if she is a goddess And I answer: Yes, if the Devil’s Divine…
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…
The sound of your senses Breaks over me And I drink your waterfall words With it’s torrent of charcoal images To the last drop So others may never know How you, of cinnamon soul, sell poisoned dreams Manicured with epidermal perfection The rag doll fantasy Of jazz love To strangers in quiet bars; Those people unaware of the everyday almanac The self-help lies written on bruised pages By every Adonis who felt Being closer to you Would suffice
But I watch as you walk on water Just so to show you can And laugh At all those speechless spectators Now followers of your riptide wisdom Pledged to play their heartstrings So you may dance upon their demise Dressed in funeral face And be beautiful Like a child on Christmas Suffocating With joy
The wind it whistles Swallows and sells Your perfume; twigs of spring broken underfoot Ashes in the air; this midnight snow, And still figures, lifeless statues, staring in envy at The echo of our footsteps We walk, in discord, my toe timed to your heel Crude judgement Capricious To mock the pedestal born So frozen in time that a grey hair Succumbs only once in a millennia
You see, I see The lights red and yellow Bleeding fireflies Resting upon rooftops In mechanical merriment Happy at the thought of being happy And you now know you cannot see more than you know And thus you cry At the anomaly of your eye And I do not have a handkerchief To spare For I care no more of your other face Or the one within That exists only to dream The desires So I leave you at the crossroads Knowing sooner or later An Adonis shall pass Dressed in angel dust God forbidden
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
