hide and seek

i could chase after love for the rest of my life

chasing rabbit's paws with rabbit's hooves.

i could chase after love for ever i could

chasing fireflies on empty roofs.

i could chase after love with enough luck

chasing phone calls that ring like empty tea cups.

i could chase after love, i could chase it all right

while you chase your day, and i run through my night.

could i chase after love this one more time

as i chance into you, do i chase you out of sight?

where's your tree?

are you the beauty of my naked bough
squishing the earth beneath your naked toes
arching around my naked bark
embracing, engulfing me naked, stark?

sometimes, I hear voices that do ring
in between the living and dying,
are these voices of silence that sing?

someone drew a line between this earth and this sky
somewhere along this line, let's entwine, you and I.

sometimes, in the dark, when earth and sky combine,
a worm wriggles without words
another wriggles back to life.

cover her face, mine eyes dazzle

is poison the necessary antidote to interminable love?

with spleen, they shine

impossible to leave, she departs,
tragedy chuckles in knotted hearts.
tied together, odd adjunct,
linked forever
forever apart.

night uncloaks alarm,
she wakes up every day
hands touching mound of birth,
unable to dispatch.

sometimes, in the dark,
she curls up,
encases hopeless misery;
a weeping, tear filled sort of hourglass.
time traps tragedy;
preserves loss

after loss after loss
scrapes the womb clean.

you, unmothered, motherless, motherer,
cannot, will not protect the unbirthed.

love lover's frailty.
lover's loveless grief.
gold to ash to gold,
from lover to the unloved.

why can't strangers remain
unknown in the least, unknown at most?

sits on a stone, this mute child of death.
says not a word, watching love groan.
savage child does not kill, waiting
for love to take love's life.

i watch from this hole -
binary depositions, fetile arrangements.
beyond this hole, out of mirth,
juvenile spat inherit the earth.

i watch from this hole, incapable of birth.

fragile pearls, they slip, they smile
unafraid, with spleen, they shine.
and i, i grow rusty from the core.

a plunge, perhaps?

at the margins of mediocrity
lie the margins of the spectacular

the worm wriggles without words

sinking, sodding, beneath the skin
beneath this laughter, this faithful, sturdy, reliable, overworked sinfaced smile stretching skin affirmative. lie.

beneath the smiles, the grievances, the justifications
the incantations and saddened voices of motherhood that do yell.

beneath the belly, hard and full
beneath, bloated. unrecognizable fragments unshored.

beneath water fading, fading, forever
in the shush, slush, sounds cementing, eyes unwanted.

beneath the hair
turn, grow, merge, twist, tangled dance along broken screams, schizophrenic mania
abruptly pours out of soul.

beneath the chin
uptight, upright, up about, almost sprouts, given to whim.

beneath the wisdom
only shadows that mistrust, no way, i can, i say, you show, i know. lies.

beneath your sin
we all sleep, stolid ghosts. discord corners day into night.

beneath this earth
i sprawl, you crawl, you pluck, my back swallows dampening darkness.

beneath the dream
this awkward dream,
you grow your age, you cut this cage,
wake me up to my nightmare.

the better half

this is so good

so so so good

no?

you don't get it?

not this one?

not any?

that's cause the better half of it is still in my head.

the next big poem

feels like the time for a new poem is here
what with the new year
and new friends
and a newer melody of loneliness
that now triggers these brain cells.

oh, talking about brain cells,
i don't know what's happened to them lately
i cannot read
i cannot write
i cannot -
see i got distracted while writing this poem
and that has never happened to me before.

for some reason, i am not into what i am in.
and for the first time in my life,
i am unable to understand the phrase -
"there are two kinds of people in this world,
those who believe that there are two kinds of people
and those who know better."
something whose significance used to strike me,
whose humor has stung me repeatedly,
but now, intelligence is seated in nostalgia.
and now an intelligent phrase
makes me intelligent
only in memory.

yes, friends, to put it simply,
i have dumbed down,
if you too have noticed, you will stop reading further.

if not, then let's dumb down together.

the next big poem
is composed of sloppy notes
of a degenerating state of mind.

the next big poem
is here
without further procrastination.

the next big poem
is a mistake
that we are all eager to make.

always the followers

soil the essence

in following

sometimes i listen to kabir

and i wonder what the hell

i'm trying to say in my own words