In the embassy of closed eyes

Here, where the night meets us

Just barely like the tide at our feet ,

Where we dream about convincing 

The multitudes in their dazzled indifference ;

That broken things can still be fixed.

You with most simply illuminated knowledge 

Of dementia and comic operas, 

You should continously think of stars 

And how prayers remind you 

To become radiant. 

Not burnt out 

Or superstitious about that natural ringing in your ears; 

The darker tone demanding nothing but your heart. 

I remember now. 

My silence destroyed you. 

Abandoned and objectified you stopped. 

Like the tortuous dead in bookish confusion; 

You held out your hands!

Waiting for an answer. 

I remember now. 

I come back again and again. 

I maneuver the anesthetics out of affection —

Because so much of me is sick and forgotten. 

I facilitate the blade to hasten out eulogy

I teach birds to sing violently. 

Since the divine survived by imagination 

And a quivering youthfulness, 

We ourselves wished for once 

In the days before instant gratification may still exist 

Some where in our silence, 

I will calculate the length ,width and breadth 

Of your sorrow by folding my skin over every inch of you. 


In the embassy of closed eyes 

Where I will learn  to know you. 

In such impossible, beautiful dark. 


Manifest destiny

Listless and swollen

They return from the war

The young boys and girls

Who don’t speak

Whose pupils gaping, dark

Search among the souls

Of the blown apart

For the pieces of themselves

Left like shrapnel

Half way across the earth

Because there is no escaping

Destruction, they think

As the sky reaching down for then

Like pillars of salt

Like steak shot from

Exploding boilers .

City folds into suburb folds

Like some relentless and crooked origami

Heave the heavy sights of construction sites

Condense ash and dirt

Of demolished life

In the great heat of expansion.

Beleaguered soil and history cave at At newly pounded weight

God bless the lunatics who hold

Sandwich boards

Quote Armageddon’s

Paralyzed and redundant poetry

All they ask for is change

Some goddamned change,

But it’s too late for that now.


Below the windows

And responding to light

We stretch, reaching for the shade.

Under the bed, a junkyard;

Of old dreams,clumps of shapeless dust

The fetal boogie men and amniotic bliss

Of a missing and unexplored world.

Pictures of uncle Frank holding an open box.

Postcards from London,Versailles and the monasteries of Europe.

An old mute shoe with mangled tongue measures it’s soul in miles,alone .

When I close my eyes, I sink to the bottom.

A scavenger of my own antiquity

I dig through dirt and relic.

I carry what I can.

This world don’t make it easy, my dear.

I say to you, in my best Marlon Brando.

But you don’t know what that is —

We are distance

We are suspicious

The alerts on out phones remind us again

There is evil.

And there are great hearts and tears of the missing.

Who leaves holes in this world

That will never be filled.

So we took for what will stay;

Us in the multiple tongues and twists of God

In the shards of beauty

That cut out feet like brightly coloured glass brings us to our knees

Teach us words

Some have called prayer.

Winter solstice

A translation of light

Might move a mountain

Bring a word to the world

Wedded to waiting

Parables travelling the parabola of history

Like a knowing, hidden smile.

Static cling on the periphery

Catch the stars on destiny’s

Cobolt the blue blanket sky

Like a wishworth whispering

Whether we are here

At the beginning or the end

We are fused by the same heat and light.

A camel silhouetted on the periphery

An isolated exodus

Bears gifts from the flowers

Of hopeful astrologies,

Sewing what sweaters

In expectation of the cold.

You can have my body said

The Baptist who drank wild honey

Grasshoppers ,locusts,berries and nuts.

In loin cloth romance with the apocalypse

But my soul belongs to —

The swift blade that ends each sentence with it’s own answer

Give back to the stars.

The more beautiful question

Contains no answer

We open

It’s silence like a gift

Left in the darkest parts

Of our sleepless nights

Pretending not to be afraid.

Slumber blue moon

Our differences aren’t really differences but unique pieces of the same puzzle.

Scattered beads trip feet

For it’s so hard to understand

A cone voice with it’s own story

Stands meek until it gathers a band .

It’s in earnest ,it matters

But it might go unheard

For differences have taken over

And boundaries are urged .

A million voices inside

Diverse and not distinct;

Rivalling to be honest and loudest

Rather than binding a choir .

Doesn’t it sound charming

When polar voices sing harmonies

Contrasting,not contradicting

Amity sounds melodious .

Our sprouts appear divergent

And not so dearly they remember

Their concerted genesis

Hidden beneath the blue moon’s slumber .

A series of events —III

Believe .

Temperature going up whilst life coming down to it’s beginnings,no explanation what so ever ,heart pumping ,legs shivering ,mind thinking of what is left to be ,she’s already sucked into the pits of disgust ,sitting in a corner ,she’s wishing . She is hoping .

She is believing .

She is believing .

She is believing .

One long breath ,stepping up silence . Silence .

A single drop of blood running down ,the cold blade getting warm . Rests the body of someone who had nothing but lust for the woman kind . Firm hand ,firm fingers of one who believed . She had no intention to let this be a day of denial . She believed ,she stepped up .

She could have been a victim but chose not to .

A series of events—II

Black velvet .

I had a black velvet canvas in front of me ,minus the brush and colors . I closed my eyes and reopened them but nothing happened . Everything looked the same ,black . Starting from nothingness and ending at the very same spot . No matter where my eyes moved to ,I wasn’t able to see a thing .

Moving my hands,I felt something hard ,it was a chair ,I thought . I sat down on it for conformation. Reality struck me immediately . I had lost my eyesight . I had lost my vision .

“now what?”,was my first question . I was left with two options ,either live my life feeling miserable about myself or fill my world with imaginations and create my own reality . while the brain asked me to feel embarrassed ,my heart screamed otherwise .

I chose my heart .

I was not feeling bad about myself instead I finally had a chance to live in my own world ,which was governed solely by one rule —

” Create what you want to see “.

I closed my eyes for one last time —

Filled with optimism and acceptance that I have to live this way. Choices were limited .

Out of the blue .

I saw something bright I felt something warm. I opened my eyes immediately and saw colors ,shapes and images . I was spell bound for a moment but then I understood where I was . In a hospital . My father was sitting beside me . He looked dumbstruck. He burst into tears . I asked him what had happened and with tears in his eyes he whispered ,”You came back!”.