You
Are untamed
Reckless blood and wit intertwined
A twisted, brazen
mind.
Your mind
Is so clearly different
It leaps and soars, so acrobatic
And your thoughts appear to me so hazy and enigmatic
Your mind is simply not pragmatic
Yet your perception knows no bounds.
You have thoughts that come close to insanity
That sometimes flow in the form of profanity.
Your spirit
Is either very high or very low
Up and down, to and fro
There is no in between for you
Some say you are stupidly crazy
The dull ones say that, the ones too lazy
To see beyond the rugged surface.
The subdued and vapid ones
Will never understand the magnetism
Of your sweet, exquisite devilry.
On your face you often wear
A fierce and restless stare
A wan, discontented expression
As though you're always awaiting
Something bigger,
Something better.
You
Are fluid, swaying fire
And I will never tire
Of watching you burn
I can see you brain boil and churn
As it reels into into areas of
madness and chaos.
Your psyche
Is an endless field of dark reverie,
Of fear and vagary.
I know your night terrors
Your savage dreams of death
Screams and bated breath
Unutterable visions
The grotesque world of horror thats spins itself out
And dribbles into your drawings
All those creatures, skeletons gnashing and clawing...
You
Are gentle and thoughtful
Yet you are terrified
Of this dark thing that sleeps within you.
Your eyes - they’re stunning
They’re tempestuous, wanton,
Wild, like some fierce animal peering out of a rusted cage
Oh, your eyes
They are something beautiful, but annihilating
Like Autumn crocus flowers, innocently poisonous
Lids splaying delicately like its violet leaves.
You are tall and strong
And uncontrollable,
And your smile
Is the biggest paradox I've ever encountered
Childlike
And fatal.
You are not
A creature of the commonplace
You are not a slave of the ordinary
You are not a mindless drudge of the mundane
You are free.
Or bewitched, what's the difference
I went into the wild
to look for dirt
something to cover the scars
bruises
and cuts.
I was never looking for you
but on my search for worthless
abundant
dirt
I found a gem so pure
so clean
And I think there was something
awful special about you
because the scars
bruises
and cuts
that I once tried to cover
were now fading
and I don't know how a gem,
like you, did it
but I think you saved me
the little pieces
laughs, jokes, habits
are the things I'm
afraid will gnaw
at my cerebral cortex
and pull me in like a vortex
haunting my lucid dreams
about money infested, putrid schemes.
The little things
won't let me
leave
(mentally)
It started as a joke we all laughed at the thought
of slanging coke
or passing cops with a whole bag of thizz
cheesing out ya window, just like Andre and Mac Dre in the Bay and Valley Joe
But now the game got real
I'm broke and choked for skrill (skreel) and this sandwich place can't even contend with the dough I'd make if I dealed
But who could I trust and who would squeal, make me have to peel out in my whip as I dipped
moved cribs and changed homies
Do I have a soul of a drug dealer or one for slapping on pepperoni to a sandwich for another zombie
Do I have the soul of a drug dealer?
A short rap inspired by Andre Nickatina's "Soul of a Coke Dealer"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5J2fLD-6Bs
You were different
As you repeatedly pointed out
You weren't quite like the others
You possessed a quietness which only titillated me further
We had moments which will lie etched in memory forever
We were different
Together
But then, like twigs under the feet of a giant
You broke me.
You may be the one I thought I desired
You may be the one I thought I required
But you are not
Nor are you the only one for me
There are plenty of fish in the sea
Should I choose to go fishing.
For now, the rods must stay in the barn;
I have bigger fish to fry.
Like changing the world, for instance
Which to you is a preposterous and fanatical notion
To me, is another thing to tick off my to do list
I am different
Knocking me down did not serve any purpose but to strengthen my resolve
I rose slowly, like a flower amongst weeds of pain
I came through, bigger, better, scarred but stronger
Oh look what you've done
I wish you no harm
But I'm not exactly rooting for team ** anymore
You're on your own there
And rest assured, give me a few more years,
And I'll show you just what you are missing.
In that moment, poetic justice will truly be served.
i feel a little piece
of the mother of all creation
course through me
she is an angel of a new age
a feminist of the feminine persuasion
a man and a woman
she bleeds passion
and breaths fire
she is in me
she is we
the freedom of the vagina
the freedom of compassion
don't be afraid to preach like a preacher
the pianonic climax is soon
beethoven must rest
mozart must go
the keys must stop
the waltz which your words flow
bake into a cake
the killing of the self
to once again be reborn into a new generation
of degenerates
Sitting across from you,
as you study,
brows furrowed
is better than a hundred million other things
that seem little in comparison.
Sitting across from you,
as your fingers dance away across the keyboard
is better than the high hills in Tuscany,
thin, golden light flitting through the endless rows of great, green pines
stretching their arms upward
to kiss the warm sun,
in gentle ways, like young lovers do.
Sitting across from you,
when you’re away getting coffee,
is kind of like you still being here,
but a little colder,
a little darker
and the room doesn’t smell the same way
and I don’t feel the same kind of happiness
but knowing that you’re coming back to me
is better than watching the clouds in summer,
than the endless blue ocean veiling for a time,
the bright, brilliant, celestial fireflies, burning away,
warm in all that darkness.
Better than warm breezes carrying the stuff of flowers.
Watching the pale skin on your nose crinkle
is better than all the paintings of all the artists of all time
because it’s your skin, it’s your nose.
Sitting across from you
and hearing your soft voice is better than all the melodies,
all the strings delicately plucked,
all the songs about love,
simply because it’s your voice.
Sitting across from you
as your eyes meet mine and
watching you smile
is better than anything I could experience alone,
simply because I have you to share it with.
Sitting across from you,
just being with you,
is a marvelous experience which isn’t wasted on me,
which is why I’m telling you about it.
Revelations from your cherished words,
Echoes in my inner mind like love birds
Enlightening those songs, you sung
Engraved within my mind forever.
After years and fears of destiny
I ran into the cambers of darkness;
Setting off in grief, seeking a shield
from other's eyes; arrows; uneasiness;
Even the Love shines a light at me
And knowingly, honestly.
I bow my head, earnestly,
Searching for a way to explain.
I ran further away from you;
I bow my head in deep confusion,
Hoping to disappear into the shadows
as moments crumble around me.
I cannot protect myself forever
from the rage of my grief,
Except by going deeper and deeper
into my own solitude.
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
williamsji@yahoo.com
www.williamsji.com
www.williamsgeorge.com
www.williamsmaveli.com
(All poems in this series are, translations from Malayalam, originally written in author’s mother-tongue, “Malayalam’”, the language of Kerala, in South India.)
BY WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
williamsji@yahoo.com
www.williamsji.com
Soft, speckled nose gone dry with sleep, tonight
I wake her up to stroke her fur lined back
A growl escapes to my surprise; what fright!
Now ears drawn back, prepare for an attack
Instead, she escapes, darting through the door.
Not to be overlooked are her sweet paws
Pattering across the cold, kitchen floor
She makes a show of them, extending claws
Her tongue catches a taste of droplets left
From early morning, in her deep blue bowl.
Like me, she finds quiet… sometimes bereft
In this house with creaky floors, not quite whole
I lean my head against her sunken spine
And listen to her heart keep time, like mine
i've never heard anne sexton speak
and i think i've fallen in love
a masculine power
a spiritual honey dew
seeping from the hole
a ripping and raping voice
who holds a magnetism so strong
that she stuck her head in an oven
it's like we can't hold back our emotions
and emotions so strong
the impulses so impulsive
it burns you down
a burning crucifix you are
