Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Stains from Eden

I looked up
and saw
neon plastic staring
back at me
pale and stuck suspended
like an irrevocable beacon
thick with misery
from the discernible darkness
that coloured the specters
of metal and paint
in the spirit of
transparent ink, sinister
and perfumed in cool tints
bringing slow tears
to my eyes
caught by now, in the snare
of dog-eared yells
and wretched name-calling
floating smoothly like film sheets
peculiar and scar-tissued

As i draped a hand over my belly,
snaking it over my chest
under my clothes,
comforting my boring heartbeat
with the warmth of warm blood-under-skin
I dreamed of lying under the
flower glow of an endless celestial
sky, blundering its way across
it's own chameleon's coat

I draped the other hand
over my eyes
trying to leave blank spaces for light
to swill in the darkness of my crossbred nightmare
to arabesque and pivot like
heartbroken leaves
that travel the length
and breadth of my
measured in their unintended movement
and emulsified by the jars
of ardent Eden that i
lovingly bleed
almost smiling
into the cobbled roads
as i walk half-dead

I wondered about the touch of
my hands
to my lips
and then to my soul
and then

I went blind.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Occultus Malum

There was the night,
and buckets of transparent inebriation.
All the children
were dancing.
Vibrant and in-love.
The lights collided
with songs and voices.
angel-faced dolls,
and pure bred men.
All aflung into the arms of
a billowing fatality,
humming secret noises
from the trampled grass.
Drowsy and mixed with sweat.
Pulsing one. Two. Three to infinity,
at the crescendo of black thighs,
soft- whimsical feet,
and tall, tall anti-climaxes of personality.

They were all so fucked up,
mixed up.
In the harem of
time gone wrong.
And i roamed
made a mad woman.
All lose joints
and awkward head.
Mulish and lonely,
wide-eyed, wonderfully bewildered and sad too.
Envious in places,
near the gates and corridors.
Fidgeting with scarf,
morbid unfamiliarity
and exploding stories of aural textures.
Then back to bedlam
within my own body.
Ordinary in the illuminated sea of walking creatures.
Collapsing humorously from the edges into a defeated sigh.
Rendered fragile
and bartered copiously to feel
fully formed.
And broken open,
head to toe
from brown earth
and smoke-hidden sky.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Silence Was Insane

I have
nascent guilt under my wrists
and pink raw, nerve endings.
Each delicate,
and absconding,
from peace.

So great have these
pains been to my coward life,
that I have closed the lid over
your eyes,
and closed the lid over dustbins,
made out of all my speech,
and yours.
Dust collecting over your smile,
such a beautiful one.
And a catharsis, elusive of a future or a present.

Bit by bit,
my fingernails
are declining into their anemic shells,
and my breath is stalking whisper trees,
inward, inbound;
to the asylum of my own heartbeat.
While taxi cabs
brighter yellow than my teeth ever could be,
and lighter black than my despair,
coal-like with a veneer of cheap tears.
Like everything else about me,
roam fat and bold.
Louldly, like proud lovers
sheltered from shame and hidden hand-holding.
A little unlike me

I never held hands,
Only a mouth in mine.
Only to give it up too soon.

Adieu, dearest materialist.
Silence was insane