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…
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…
All I can think about is dust and dusk And drowning in a shattered sea Made of glass Like a photograph of a falling man Who is never truly falling But eternally trapped With a suspended scream In an endless dream Like a dreamless wraith; Weightless and wordless As an orphan in death
But sometimes the night is too strong for me to sleep And the dreams I have are too dark for me to keep So I become a cobweb on the far wall Or a three pin plug lost in a socket Some crumpled paper on the floor Or a faded face in an old heart shaped locket A catharsis of cause Building prisons to be free An empty ship sailing An emptier sea
Where there is fog in the air And yet I stare Like a blind man blinking Without thinking at the sky Wondering in my own vacuum About the mute purpose of ‘Why’ With voices at the edge of my vision And footsteps at the back of my mind I am dreaming of being asleep And afraid of losing what I cannot find
Thus, in this black and white world In this sharp and smooth world In this loud and quiet world In this bitter and sweet world In this dull and fragrant world I shall remain awake Till a different tomorrow
I was born out of the blue Like a star without a face And shall one day be falling too As dust without a trace In hope that when I am gone Those very few whom I knew Kept something of the light With which their wish came true…
I wait at the newspaper stand Reading, the morning is grey Ash tinted Like an old man’s asthma
Buds of people are sprouting From windows and eggshell alleyways Dressed in yesterday’s dreams And tommorow’s promises Faces creased, bespectacled With white hairs a halo From the century long sunlight Age ever ached to swallow
A ballad pours from the the barbershop The old stereo is crooning about Footsteps falling on azure fields And carts on country roads I can smell the aftershave At once bitter and sweet The razor once again vacant Without the borrowed heartbeat
There is a fallacy here Between the words and vision I read and see The stories seem vibrant but life colour-free Perhaps it is the weight of being That makes it so For all of us do wither But only some of us grow
The children have gathered on the footpath A bell in some temple tolls The priests are praying for bliss And in laughter a football rolls I watch, I watch The world divided in unison Each hour be day or night Being a part of every season
So I pay my fair share It’s time for me to leave And be one amongst the masses Who in eternity believe Of everyday man and their everyday deeds In the cycle of fruit from the flower and flower from the seeds If only one would question; Does the roots if ever know? Of the world that blooms outside from their breaths buried below