And as I listened and I read and I thought… I thought
He will break my heart
Beautifully.
And I will let him
To see what he does with the pieces.
Or
If he will find the apex of his artistry in
The breaking.
Tag: Poetry
Organic Burn
There are things that have begun to burn.
Save those you can while they in any part
remain
We leave what we cannot take. We trusted
What we did not make
After all, and went ahead and claimed it –
Love.
No, we did not make love. We made,
well…
We did. But we did not create it. God did. God
is
Love. So how could the creator become in any part
the created? No.
So when these things that have begun to burn
can not be salvaged
We leave them and run. We haste from the embers that become
We are followed in our turn but the scarring is
localised to a minimum. An infinitesimal organic suicide
Heartbreak.
We labour with the remnants of our burn
To plagiarise and live in reruns.
Tomorrow we make again what we did not create
And trust again what we did not make
Our memory heals enough so we replicate.
Love.
Out of Reach
There are mangoes in my backyard
Drooping down from the mango trees
If I reach out of my window, my fingers
Brush against the leaves. I can smell their
Sweet fragrance so heavy on my nose that
A taste would surely put
An end
To all my nerve-ending woes
I was given mint tea with honey and a single
Slice of bread. Its to satisfy my hunger and
My thirst while I corrode in bed. I dunk the
Bread in my sweet tea but it is wafer thin and
Breaks. The part that doesn’t make it to my
Mouth, I guess the floor can take. I pretend
The sliver in my mouth was a ripe yellow
And luscious green. But I still can’t taste what I really want
(Since this act does not have that scene).
One day I’ll find the courage to reach just a little
More. But I’m terrified that in that moment
She’ll walk right through my doors. And oh,
Isn’t she so privileged. She can do just as she
Please. If I could walk on my two mangled feet, I would
not be grazing leaves. All I want is one mango
I would be satisfied with one. But
Don’t touch is what She
Said. And last commands can’t be undone.
Technicolour
Black.
Black hole, black pillow, black sheets, blank sheets, blank pillow
Black void
Blank line, white line, crimson line, blue line.
Crimson gash, crimson stitch, crimson wound, crimson blood
Black blood, blue blood, blank blood,
No blood.
Black love, black blood, no blood, no love
Black hate, black void, blank love, no blood
Black blood on black wound
Wound in black sheet set on black pillow nursing
Black void
Black music like the buck, like the step, like the twist, like the stick
Black envy like a black rose filled with black thorns creating black holes
Red garden, green garden, yellow garden, purple garden
White garden, white rose, white snow,
White blood
Wine line, fine line, bloodline, crossed line
White chest, wine chest, lying chest, black vest
White sleeve, wine sleeve, cut sleeve, blocked sleeve
Wine float, black throat, long throat, cut throat
Black tip, blank tip, black rose,
Black love
Green leaf, yellow leaf, brown leaf, black fall
White walls, white roof, white washed, white gall
White foam, white froth, white sea, seagull
White truck, white ball, wide ball, white net, white goal
Wine drink, wine seat, wine crown wine love
Wine ring, wine stone, rhinestone, white love, red lust, bloodlust
Bloodlust for wine blood bearing white rings feeding wine drink, feeling
Black love
Black love, white love, wine love, wine rose
White love with wine rose swathed in black cloth
Black cloth, black sheet, white sheet, white rose
Blank white, frail white, tight white, white
White.
In-Threes 