An Apple a day;
You and I shared this day;
by cutting it half and in nude;
From one angle I saw you,
No thirst; No hunger;
at the hanging dried-up breast;
from another angle;
Just like a pale;
Ruined, dead body;
You became the debris
of a divine love
inside your womb;
no more little seed can grow;
And you remain so simple; humble
Beside a sharp knife on the top
of a dining table!
(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
Your voice is like sweet ether
On a dirty kitchen rag
It calms me down
It knocks me out
Knocks me up
I am pregnant with the sound
That 6 strings produce
And the beauty of your words
The fire walkers in you
Your fingers always knew
How to pick the smiles
From my insides
Pluck the kisses from my lips
Draw the nectar
50 Ways to turn me upside down
50 ways to be knock-the-wind-out-of-me
In the beginning it was dark
And you said
"Let there be colors
Let me have a guitar"
In the beginning
God colored me
Full of red blood cells
Inside the lines
But with shaky hands
There's so many more shades
And this is the last time
I swear it's the last time
I will weather these storms
My daddy said there'd be boys like you
Boys who could make it rain
You know when I'm with you
I lose my mind a little
Who is this kid?
And how is he under my skin?
He's a tattoo I don't remember getting
Maybe I was drunk
Maybe I'm in love
Whatever that is.
Dog hair on duvet covers
Every song about a different girl
Bursting at the seams till I
Can't take no more
Girls I've never met before
What you do to me doesn't make sense
My intestines turned up at the corners
Pelvic thrusting on the couch
A little bit louder now
A little bit louder now
The mortars are screaming
I'm quickly losing the war with myself
And I'm told we have nothing to fear
But fear itself
Nothing to fear but ourselves
And a boy with glasses
Writing checks that I'm afraid will bounce
Singing softly to me
On the couch
Gawd, aren't relationships terrifying?
You looked at me
and I looked at you
and that's exactly what happened.
A child stood and said racist comments and names.
While many adults never said a single thing.
A few laugh and giggle.
But it's inherited.
And most of the times from the parents that's a bigot.
An adult spoke of hatred like it was a badge of honor.
And many listen quietly.
While not protesting against it.
Was it fear?
Or silently agreeing.
A minister of the word stood before a congregation.
And addressed exactly, what's wrong with these situation.
That seems to be affecting all races in the nation.
Yes, a few walked out.
The truth hurts when it touches a nerve inside.
For us Jesus rose.
For us Jesus also died.
The truth hurts when it touches upon a nerve.
The minister faced protesters against his preaching.
But so do many good teachers.
But all stupidity is.
Even amongst us that's not bigots.
For a silence voice is a supporter of a fool.
Who let others dictates the rules?
But it's inherited.
Just like love.
Which should lie within all of us.
History has shown
They will kill their own
Before living with others in peace
Have no doubt
That hatred is as nourishment
A necessity for existence
They can not do without
Burning hot as fire within the wretched souls
Whose evil knows
Would kill you
As soon as kick you
Because your skin is Olive or Brown
Or you pray to a Deity
That your life revolves around
Never cease to be astounded
Those that NEED someone to hate
Who would these mongers hate
If successful in their efforts
Everyone who was, from themselves, different?
If they knifed all the niggers,
Burned all the beaners,
Chopped up all the chinks
Would this, their hate, augment?
If they tortured the towel heads
Killed the catholics
Hanged the homos
Would this, finally, curb discontent?
Would the haters implode
And begin to feed upon themselves
Would short people
Shoot tall people?
Would merely looking at skinny
Make fatty incensed?
Would brown-eyed people
Kill blue-eyed people?
Would red hair and freckles
Be a stoning offense?
Would black-haired people
Break blond-haired people?
This is a hate poem…
And hate seldom makes sense…
But sensical or no…
Seems the real status quo
Matters love that we show
There will always be those
That just plain NEED
Someone to hate
(If I were writing this to anyone else, especially and most probably a woman,
it would go something like this:
I would like to unfold you one layer at a time;
I will peel off clothing
until I hit bottom
until there is nothing between
my hand and your drumming heart
except trembling skin.
But writing you right now is different; those soft words would feel forced, fake, hollow and pretty and attractive and wrong. I can’t tell you why but I know my heart has a song of its own
for you and if I get it wrong you know you can laugh at it.)
Do you know how overpowering you can be?
Do you know what it is to draw a breath,
one tiny insignificant breath,
and feel my entire body throb to
To run my fingertips across your skin
(not necessarily gently)
to press my hands into your skin until the impress -
like a flower pressed in a book -
I don’t want to peel your clothes away from you,
slow and confident and assured, (not right now).
There isn’t always confidence in want, is there?
I’d rather tear them away from you,
quest for your beating heart and the shape of
your hip and the long line of your spine attempt,
with my lips on yours,
to take your breath and make it ours.
My hands are hungry;
they feel empty, grasping, needful.
My lips are wet.
I love you.
(I ask what I am saying and I wonder if this is weak: I want your body against mine.)
if your hands are shaking
shake the world with them;
come on, love
if your back is breaking
ignore the constant aching
and walk past it.
Your feet have no longer stepped along the shiny finish of my floors.
Your smell, no longer seeped into the fabric.
Your awkward presence no longer lingers at the door.
My house is no longer the home you choose to pick.
Your love no longer resting on my bed.
I miss the way your laugh danced around my room,
it loved to kiss my silly head,
the chamber that is now your incarnate tomb.
When you see me, is it still hard to breathe?
When I touch you, does it make you just break down?
Does the way I hug you make it hard to see?
And in the scent of me, you love, you drown?
You're a good actor, fool. Jerk. Dope.
The way you're acting now is prime.
The way you act like I'm not there, that's what you hope.
And how you really cant see me. How I cry, inside.
Take me back, Imbecile!
We can kiss through the dawn.
Passionate love, kiss me unforgivable.
But you can't even love me when I'm gone.
time and time again
I repeat the same refrain
where is the source of time
when gone - where is it lain
time slips from our fingers
why is it so ... in vain
time is all we need
time is all we breathe
time is all we waste
time in all its haste
time to make a life
own, buy, lose ... hire
all we do, we do in time
to make the last... that last line rhyme
She believes in happy things
Invisible beings with fairy wings
Fluttery butterflies make her dance
An endless game of happenstance
Eyes of wonder, transparent soul
The world is cruel but she don't know...
She greets me with smiles from ear to ear
To hold her heart I solemnly swear
Gental touch sooth the soul
In her presence I turn to gold
She holds my restless heart at bay
As she executes her innocent ways...
Her plans get lost in the making
A pouty face when shes faking
Empty cups of invisible tea
Cartoon bandages when she bleeds
Shelfs filled with eyes that stare
She loves her tattered teddy bear...
Crayon drawling of sunny skies
She draws me with big wide eyes
Read me a story, she hands me a book
It's past her bed time but she gives me that look
I tuck her in and read her asleep
And pray my love she'll always keep...
the little ones suffer the most when relationships fail...