They told me not to say The fault; It was all mine They told me not to say I am okay, its all fine They told me not to say The world is wrong from where I stand They told me not to say You will never understand They told me not to say Gods don’t walk this heathen earth They told me not to say It’s your choice to give a birth They told me not to say False truths my eyes can see They told me not to say I am thus and this is me They told me not to say We are slaves of silver linings They told me not to say Fallen stars don’t go out shinning They told me not to say There is no shepherd for this herd They told me not to say The sky don’t feel free for some old bird They told me not to say Love is a mirage of a migraine mind They told me not to say They light the lights to leave me blind They told me not to say Life can end between two thoughts They told me not to say Fate ends with a draw of lots
I wore a blanket for a cape For only in dreams I can escape The mortal wounds So lovingly applied As an afterthought of ache
Oft nights when the world Is turning inside out Being snowflake proud of rainbow vomit and papier-mâché pyramids Growing in a mindless ocean of silver sweat I sit as stillness amidst the walls Like a spineless spider flat and small Aping what I think Is the rhythm I cannot find Do I mind? Do I mind? Stars falling like dandruff on blank shoulder of the night Do I mind? Do I mind? Knowing my common mind preaches that I am one of a kind
The cactus upon the windowsil Looks down on the street and see Other trees meditating Like monks on a subway free Half dead and half high Having two views of one life An ever burning driftwood Entombed in blue ice I am that monk That beggar with bright face Having known no sunshine, I shine Having known no misery, I make mine From the refrigerated leftover of a burnt down town Crying over T-shirts and Blazers, Tank tops and gown
The world with its thorned tendrils and tremors of love The world with its crow’s claws and feathers of a dove Knows the weight and cost of a coin unspent For this life; a tragedy, for this life; a parody Is best lived,unmeasured and as if each day is on rent
I have seen geisha queens Dance on aspen nights Play with children made of fire And love men afraid of light I have known threadbare hearts Bare it all upon the floor And yet be trodden upon Like a foot mat at the door And so much more, so much more I have seen and chosen to ignore The what if and why not The why now and not before So much more, so much more, now no more anymore
I can hear the roots tear Across the breast of resting soil Like blind fingers, stretching the Depths of darkness, Those long forgotten by time For the hours; they fly only above the ground The black womb is all silence And frozen thoughts: Except those murmurs of memories Left by faded footsteps And shadows parched under the sun Of people who could not turn, away. I hear them too, their thoughts, In the leaves yawning with the wind And fruits falling with the same It’s bittersweet syrup; tears and sweat of toil gone unremembered A destiny dismembered Like roots they yearn no reason Nor do they desire The crystal sunlight reserved for carving men All that is needed for the flower to bloom And the fruit to bubble without bursting Is this truth soaked with pain That they stand alive and upright On the shoulders of hanging men
To each word vibrating with voice I say you have no choice But to be uttered And then be left in the void To dissolve Into the common silence Of myriad things miming Life’s unwritten serenity
These bodies once again
Shall shiver and swell
White milk boiling
In depths of black well
Till sun lift the curtains
So drawn and thus draped
That each night is seen
Upon mattress unshaped
They who question themselves
Do not answer to others
And they who answer to all
Cannot question on their own
Thus we human stray
Mephistopheles now led by Faust
Laying markers on the way
Though oneself being as lost
THE HUMAN ANVIL 