A lonely evening by a lake

Night fell without a warning
birds slid their heads under plumage warm.
An owlet yawned,
as a birder lost his way to the city.
Eye-win hoots meh to the moon
gleamingly content,
that the lake shimmers under its breath.
All the sounds, all the visions blur
now just a dull ache
that just wouldn’t go.
I saw you 2 moons ago,
your breath still sweet on my lips,
your scent buried in my skin.
Some love-stories will remain
incomplete, unwritten.


Rest your wrinkled hands
close your tired eyes.
They must have seen so much.
I cannot begin to imagine
all that your generous heart has felt.
I am but your creation,
I carry your ‘body pain’
and seemingly
I carry your burden,
I carry our ancestors’ burden.
But I won’t pass this on to my girl.
I will shed this burden,
burry, burn or make it disappear.

Another tree fell, another bomb dropped

Another tree fell
and a bird’s nest ravaged.
Another bomb dropped
another colony savaged.

The birds are mourning
their unborn are dead.
The earth mover be damned
on our homes that he tread.

Down below mutilated population
will still sing songs of praise.
Give them crumbs of bread
but don’t dare to return their gaze.

Oh, we’re still not done.

Bounty be shared,
‘loot the coconut’.
Here come the uniformed motor-men
Who’s to deny them their glut.

Fuck you, you motor-men
Where is the remote control?
Let’s shut you all down
or lock forever in gaol.

Your face

Walked in circles,
then in squares
with eyes open sometimes
and sometimes closed.
Sometimes in wakefulness
sometimes in sleep.
Whatever I did
I drew only your face in the sand
and etched your name on my heart.

New Day

Let’s sleep now
to mark the end
of this last day of this dark era.
Let’s wake up to a new day
a new tomorrow
where we’d begin from the beginning.
Trees, rivers, stars and the moon
in my womb.
And the Sun rising in your eyes.


They open
they close
the doors to this mind
and its mysteries
each mood, each emotion
is colour coded
your logic
is just black & white
I exist
now I don’t

I breathe
now I don’t
these questions
mental blackholes
like black stars
against the dazzling white of my mind
and when I stop looking for answers
I have questions no more.
November 21, 2012

In memory of a love

A last cigarette smoked
in memory of a ‘love’.
Its smoke a passing cloud,
transient, a gushing river’s froth.

Take the weight
of memories of this love
on your diaphanous wings
my darling moon moth.

I am opening clenched fists
exposing my clammy palms –
no more burial grounds of sorrow.
Onto these may new beginnings be brought.