————
You have her beauty painted on a feather
Not too high ~ not too low
You have her light held within you
Nomadically bright — grainy, decorated
You have her mythology revived, revered
You have her
You have her in you
Venus
Apr 13
Apr 13, 2026 at 4:40 AM UTC
now it is my time to refine.
I had lived twice;
the third became the sixth.
the space between us had visible lines,
but she liked what she saw —
not that she wanted to see them,
not that she ever tried.
she liked, sincerely liked,
at that time,
the distance we had
complimented.
on a warmer day,
she was there to break it all down,
flatten it out and lay it on the ground.
she stole a few pieces,
kept you seeking.
yet the epiphany of the heat
still remains beyond my words
in our missionary sanction.
Feb 21
Feb 21, 2026 at 8:50 PM UTC
Love — everything about it
is written on her lips,
in ever so simple, delightful English.
Her heart-shaped lips
gave life to all that’s written.
Her charming pink declared it isn’t all red;
‘Love nurtures,’ her glossy lips said.
When she pouted, those lines read divine.
Love is written all over the world —
from Shakespeare to the aurora borealis —
but dear God, her plump, sweet lips
own the finest verse of it.
Oct 22, 2025
Oct 22, 2025 at 7:19 PM UTC
----------- 🌻
here - have this sunflower
put it into a vase
you will remember me tonight
see ya
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 8:43 AM UTC
In a sunflower—
in tomatoes ripened red,
in a jolly yellow lemon
adored among darling green leaves.
In a cloud of dust in a draught,
In a drop of water pouring on an ice cube,
Oh God-
in her loveliest dimples,
in the lushest lily pond of Monet’s,
we had it all—
the best moments of life.
Vast, infinite, uncontainable,
formidable love.
For me,
in the chilling wind of winter.
Aug 27, 2025
Aug 27, 2025 at 8:01 PM UTC
This is a long sad day
Heat of loneliness under my skin
Roasted coffee smells dreadful
My heart hurts
Thinking to myself —
Why do people write poetry?
To buy a token of love? ***
To buy a moment to live?
—
Oh ***** here it’s raining now
Manchester, Manchester
Jun 21, 2025
Jun 21, 2025 at 6:36 AM UTC
Remember me
when you see sunflowers,
wild roses, a blue sky filled with clouds.
Remember me
when you see a minimal photo —
a yacht, the deep blue ocean, lush green valleys,
stone castles.
Remember me
when you walk the streets of Colombo —
see a sunny evening, the seaside, the sea breeze,
feel the scent of evening dust,
hear the train heading down south.
Remember me
when you sit alone on a park bench,
in isolation, in lonesome,
if not in your solitude.
Remember me
when you go to a flea market —
see crystals, singing bowls,
beautiful pieces of art and craft.
Remember me
when you know it is Sunday —
see our mother, ****** Mary,
see the empty road,
hear the honk of a bus.
Remember me
when you see the crescent moon,
stars above Mount Beach,
feel the speed of the car to Galle.
Remember me
when you dream of my smile :)
when you think of the end of time,
when you feel the weight of life,
when you doubt existence.
Remember me — just now.
Apr 25, 2025
Apr 25, 2025 at 7:41 AM UTC
So you are blind?
you must - I ll be mad unless
you indeed do not need to see or hear
STOP !
No , your actions are not love
No, No, not your words either
No, not what your think, what you belive
Yeah, that tiny bit of your charm
the part you even yourself doesn't know
Mar 14, 2025
Mar 14, 2025 at 8:01 PM UTC
I need to confess
Yes I am a man of lust
desires, unfulfilled
man of broken dreams
man who lost hopes
man of flesh, blood and emotions
a man who victimized to sadness
insecurities, fear and vulnerabilities
doubts, apprehension, self loathe, disgust
man who is not man enough
delicate, hyper-sensitive
a man who lost focus, who feed his soul to the anxiety
a man who cry
or a boy, you may call
father I am a man who loves mom
Yes I have failed
father I pity myself
Yes father I know I must extinct
forgive me for my existence
Jan 6, 2025
Jan 6, 2025 at 7:42 PM UTC
Hello Stranger!
Let me tell you what just crossed my mind:
When you love somebody, you give a piece of your heart, never expecting it back.
If it’s protected, good—you’re happy.
But if not, stranger,
there’s a missing piece, a tear, a wound
to make your heart grow bigger.
So darling stranger
here you gotta a big heart, a pleasant aftermath
Even pain has its own kind of art—an acquired taste, unique in its appreciation.
So, cheers to the tears and wares, stranger!
Or—if this is utter nonsense—perhaps,
stranger,
we could try not to be strangers
for, say, four decades and some more—if that's an option?
Dec 10, 2024
Dec 10, 2024 at 6:22 PM UTC
