When things go awry
and forked tongues clash
it feels like lightning
striked the trash.

Darkling, folded in absentia,
Eye-wandering through incorporeal portals–

Now a smile,
heretical and broad
as her the sun’s lonely gates.

doors & how they swing so far wide
like the gaping shadow
of a pair of lips waiting...

i wonder if you realized i felt the grace
of your arrow -- brushing so lovingly through
the flesh of my *****
& i couldn’t help but to smile

take it away from me, the flutter in my chest, the
residuals of your golden essence
sitting on the rim of modelos
& passenger seat of my monte carlo

when i watch the neutral tones of grainy film
seep into your oily features
i wish you would smile just a bit more

two lovers draped over this canvas
cast their passionate shadows over bedsheets,
pleasurable touches & a recipe for a sickly afterglow,
burning like the delicate backs of fireflies
bursting like a pearlescent bubble
chased by bitter aftertaste of longing

how i wish you knew
how much you made me feel
how my paints drip like honey
& form the lines that become you

when i breathe again the essence has vanished
like paint thinner on acrylic. honey replaced
with a spoonful of sugar
& i cross the street to meet you

suddenly the memory leaves no trace behind
& i can’t help but to trace the spot
where you once stood

There used to be an angel
who was very close to me,
this Angel was a guiding light
wherever I would be.
Sometimes I made some big mistakes,
I walked the forbidden lane,
this Angel had a certain way
to bring me back again.

This Angel was always with me
every night and every day,
this Angel always helped me see
just where I went astray.
Sometimes I didn't like it,
the truth it often hurt,
but when I ignored this Angel
it made the matter worse.

I really loved this Angel,
we'd been together for many years.
We never always did agree
and often there were tears.
But angels are for a reason,
that is something I have found,
now this Angel is no longer with me
I'm so sad she's not around.

Sometimes I am good,
Sometimes I can be bad,
I enjoy life ,
I enjoy being driven in fast cars,
I can still put my leg in my underwear,
Whilst standing,
And not lose my balance,
Also I don't exercise  a lot,
But I do lots of accupressure points and tapping,
To service my internal organs.
I enjoy making money,
But I feel sad when it leaves me,
Somehow my fist closes tightly over it.
My daughter says,"It's like taking blood out of a stone,
It doesn't mean I am a miser,
May be its a phobia what would I do if I didn't  have any or,
It's just that I am one for financial discipline
I would give my children just enough pocket money,
So they would know its value.
25/3/2025

not good enough to be in your band
or join your basketball team
but good enough
to spectate or be your water boy
not good enough
to pass your classes academically
but good enough to receive a passing grade
for participation that helped me graduate
so I’d be out of your hair
not good enough
to break bread with you at the lunch table
because our parents made different salaries
but good enough
to be put down when you needed a laugh
or to feel better about yourself
not good enough
to answer back when I needed your help
but good enough
to be a nostalgic crutch when you need someone
to lean on
I’ve only been good enough
to stand in front of your machines,
to fill out your paperwork,
to sweep your floors
but not good enough
to advance at this job or in this society
and now I’ve found myself conquering the world
despite your predictions, despite your conjectures
despite your criticism, despite your disparaging remarks.
I have made myself who I am today based on the indifference
towards your humiliation, your rejections, your rebukes
so, if you see me on the streets and I don’t say “hi”
it just means you weren’t worthy of acknowledging
and if I give you the sharp eye and spit in the trash can
it only means I’ve forgotten about you completely
and that is good enough for me.

We climb the Koro hill.

Forty years and still ascending
gives a good feel.

We stand under a Madhuca tree
blossoming in March heat and rain.

From the hilltop
the valley down below
looks dreamy grey.

We've greyed and graded
past full bloom.

In the wafting fragrance of Madhuca
we pray to hold on
for some more.

Wayward curls shine in silver
New strands each day I see 
Nothing will ever stop these waves
From greying furiously  

Why then be lost in troubled thoughts 
And hurry those tides of white 
Breathe in and breathe out instead
Let little things delight 
 
Sing of the joys of nascent spring
Dance to a happy summer song 
Paint trees in burnished gold 
Spin tales of leprechauns

Embrace brazen winds that breeze
The earth that holds well-walked feet 
The canopy of light and dusky night 
Where the sun and the moon come to meet 

No tarot reading
No fortune teller 
No crystal ball I see 
Why riddle the eyes with endless thoughts....
What shall be, shall be