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…
I listen to the clatter Rolling coins Gasping through cracks Of fractured philosophy In this modern world writ with Make believe merchandise Life lived through litmus paper Chemical imbalance Anarchy in equation Feather dust in vacuum weighing same as the sun Candles upon cake, wax trees, Forest of flames, ages incinerate: Gullible times, marzipan issues souring into Phrases describing sunlight through trees unlike sunlight through trees Anything but the obvious, the immutable Sieved eyes and beetle brain Taking over photosynthesis Bottled chimera, disco dreams Autumn in lungs Coughing art; blood on canvas, dotted design Cerise constellation simplified by Binary prophets Dripping tap, blocked sink, dim streetlight, ivy on the roof, dust on the doormat, average grades, loose socks, society on chemo, Syrian seizures, Africa and Ebola, avalanche on Everest, Anthill, beehive, New York, Mumbai Sunrise at six, Sunset at seven Coconuts, candles and carpets for heaven Rubber tires on tarmac Plastic skin LED hearts Tears on screen Protein pronouns, varicose verbs Multinational menagerie of Lego world Digitally distilled with castrated cause Packeted products: for all flaws Barcoded breaths Beginners beware This land of the dead is alive on prayer.
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
It is a dream I do not remember But remember all the same Like those faces I desire Without knowing their name As if in the grand scheme of things Wherein a million stories unfold I am just a chapter Of a young man who grew old
These oceans which are open These skies which are blind These forests which aren’t silent These mountains sans a mind Are mine to behold and break To bind and to find For the similes to be kept never similar And metaphors ever one of a kind
You can call my claims childish Or let my words make you weep When you see the vacuum in my voice Hover upon my lower lip Where the broken wind balances Those desires and despair And life in its likeliest form Is heartbeat at the end of a hair
If only I could myself see and show What I have lost in my pursuit to know The allegories of living Without wanting to grow Alas, I have my own Reason to bear the blame: For to the man who shall leave no footprints The dust is all the same