THE HUMAN ANVIL

Tag: love

  • The I in Why?

    I do not desire
    To lie naked in a rattrap life
    And lubricate my verse with victorian words;
    Filled with awe inspiring acts
    Led by mundane lust
    Of Angels and Men alike
    Nor do deep desires murder me
    Nerve by nerve
    Peeling away my eggshell skin
    To illuminate the onion within;
    A coiled rainbow, boiled white
    Neither am I a shadow
    Fallen far from crowded feet
    Awaiting on indifferent paths
    For a heavenly retreat
    If at all I were to bare myself and be
    One thing that should suffice how I see
    Myself, in this crystal world
    Of self reflection and askewed insight
    I would be a thoughtful statue
    Sitting alone in a far off land
    With infinity in my head
    And nothing in my hand

  • Thinking of You

    Thoughts of you 
    A wounded prism
    Bleeding rainbow blood 
    From skin the colour of acrylic 
    Water upon water
    Wet upon wet 
    (Random noise; 
    My pseudo poetry,
    Commas and semicolons limping across the verses
    In a desolate frequency 
    Like an empty road echoing;
    The silhouettes of silent wheels 
    The smell of burnt rubber 
    And the touch of gasoline)
    I long to stare at your face that stands stark against the sky
    A newborn moon; unblemished 
    Rolling upon tethered horizons
    Like a dime in the dark

    O how I ache to be in your arms now
    To be your ice and your fire
    Your utter despair and open desire 
    I wish I could hold you
    Like ink in my paper palm
    Like an unformed word
    Like a fleeting thought 
    I wish I could know how you see me
    Am I an anchor that keeps you calm
    Or wings that sets you free?
    I know I heal as an afterthought 
    And you are careful in remembrance 
    And although we have met few times
    These moments that pass
    This liquid life
    Is reshaped by our every touch
    For the fire that burns us feels the same
    Today, tomorrow, after an eternity again

    I remember being
    Your dream
    When you were wide awake
    A flower trapped within sunshine 
    And I know I am not destiny’s choice
    For my voice 
    That dark tobacco of my baritone
    Is neither honey nor nectar 
    And my eyes that reach out
    Through the veiled carcass of some velveteen night
    Belongs to shadow and to spectre 
    But love
    Through the shards of slow time
    That ebbed our feet away for many days
    Now we walk
    With our two hearts disguised as one

  • Light Years


    My eyes cannot measure the distance,
    My heart knows our love is the same,
    I am falling like wax from a candle,
    Reaching for the touch of your flame

  • Leftovers


    In the end
    I am just a footprint in someone’s mind
    Till the dust of time settles 
    And there is nothing more one can find

  • My Woman


    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 Other Side of A Window


    I searched for a word
    To help me answer; Who am I?
    But all I found was the sound
    Of seconds ticking by….

  • Curtain Call

    Image by Ahmed Nishant @unsplash

    I am,
    The face you never see,
    On posters and billboards,
    Half starved, naked,
    Beyond beautiful, to be
    Served on a silver platter,
    For you to touch, twist and take,
    Morsel after morsel.

    I am,
    The laughter you never hear,
    Stirring lives,
    Rubbed together in plastic embrace,
    Made alive in the objectionable agony
    In the chimera of chemicals
    Praised at pawn shops
    By asthmatic Archdiocese
    To fall, to drip,
    Lip by lip
    Throat by sore throat
    Through hollow chests
    And wasted waists
    Of fools painting tears
    Upon torn faces.

    I am,
    The play you never see,
    On streets below your tinted windows,
    Staged for the world to witness,
    For free, though
    None stays to admire,
    Too paltry, they say, too plain,
    Too painful, coarse and vain,
    This drama,
    That reminds us of our own lives.

    I am,
    The speeches you never give,
    From proud pedestals, and altars,
    Like a speck of spit,
    Luring the sea of men,
    With words; carved and honed,
    Too bright for us,
    Of clouded eyes,
    To warm these hearths of our own.

    I am,
    The truth you never know,
    From beyond your walls,
    And the sanctum of your own asylum
    Where you pray
    To the earthworms armed with earthquakes
    To the dead; dead from too much death
    To leper’s liberty
    To chronic charity
    Never to arise
    From the ashes
    Or seen through the uncertain curtains
    Of your marble eyelashes.

    I am,
    Everything that makes
    Nothing possible.

  • Immolate


    I hold myself
    Where it hurts me more;
    I prefer the pain of now
    To the pain before...

  • Diaspora

    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.

    Until I am no more.

    Now I am no more.

  • Parts of a Promise

    Image by Jasmin Chew @unsplash

    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