A war broke out inside my head
an enraged battle fought at my birth.
A battle won but ever lost or so the legend goes.
Decades have passed since the first ever scream,
but the ashes of children still tickle our noses.
Maidens still shudder at sight of red leaking from butchered goats
Remnants of soldiers still hide behind darkened caves.
Sometimes a bone or two is found; mostly mere teeth.
They’re placed in dirt without any tears or mourns
for no one knows and those who do are far gone.

A war broke out inside my head.
They say people fought people with people as weapons.
The battle was won and ever lost
for no one was dead who had not killed
and no one lived who had not died a little
Our fathers fought our lovers’ fathers or so the legend goes.
Farmers still freak out over shooting stars
they’ve witnessed many that didn’t stop in the sky.
Veterans still get caught staring at voids.
Graveyards are full, insects are full,
bodies lay impatient to be gnawed away.
Rivers are full, fish are full, no one dares find out with what.

A war broke out inside my head.
They tried burying the bloodstained spears
but every flower seems made of flesh, every leaf a forgotten scream
No hands were shook, no promises signed;
the battle ended when the fighters did or so the legend goes.
Kids begin sobbing at quietest of sounds,
folks have forgotten all lullabies
Nights are awoken by shrieks of asleep,
cannons still snarl in cloudy dreams.
Halls still reek with smell of hunger.

A war broke out inside my head
and though emotions have long made up with thoughts,
memories still sway free with sewed up faces and missing limbs.
People stopped speaking of days long gone
but the air still echoes with tales unheard
Skulls of friends were stollen of brains,
limbs of children were cooked on coals, or so the legend goes.
Buildings shoved to the ground, graves robbed of beings
The battle was won and ever lost.

A war broke out inside my head
and though the sky still shudders with the silence of ground
We’re trying. Trying to make sense of the winds
Trying not to connect tides with sunken ships,
overflowing with sons and daughters and wives.
A battle took places some ages ago,
and though we still confuse chopped lambs with—
We’re trying. Brick by brick, we cement this rubble back to shops
Seed by seed we’re replanting our orchards.

A war broke out inside my head
And though old men still tremble at unusual of times,
Children still struggle to tie their shoes,
women still run fast through empty streets
and fathers still weep behind the doors, we’re trying.
Ash by ash, we’re sweeping away the left out war.
The battle sailed off and though the war goes on
We’ll die bringing this kingdom back to life.
We're fallen men among cindered thrones, but
feather by feather we'll rebuild our wings.
Flutter by flutter we'll reach the sky

So, please hold on.
There's so much left.

Laced with blue
Embedded with rue
I put on my dress
Shining with fluke
Inside I'm a mess
Out awaits a duke
Prepare I to flatter
Try I not to shatter

Trembling, I open the door
My heavy eyes on the floor
I hear the sound of his smile
Takes then he my bony hand
We walk slow, down the aisle
I think I feel them all stand
they gawk at our spotless shine
power, beauty, a match so fine

A perfect walk in a perfect hall
till body decides to give in and fall
In sudden, I hear all of the silence
name me, label me til I'm unnamed
gore me, control me, I've seen violence
I've been through, I've been trained
face of my duke's engraved with a frown
I still, I shrink, again I've let him down

though kindly he extends a hand
though slowly I take the stand
though still perfect we are together
I who saw glass break to shards
know many pieces we can't gather
know too many unflipped cards
too many of them yet to be turned
too many secrets yet to be learned

Adorned in red,
made with regret
he put on his dress
with misery so bright
to meet his mistress
on this cold, dead night
still he wished a try
to being her some joy

scared he knocked with grace
admired then her pretty face
saw her walk, then fall slightly
and helped her back with glory
tiresome it was to walk quietly
wished he to say he was sorry
but he too knew it was in vain
they had to suffer this ugly pain

Though he loved her deeply
and knew so did she briefly
there were other things to adore
power, pearls and dresses that sway
wars, swords and bodies to gore
still he hoped, oft sat down to pray
for return of life in their dry eyes
for a melody of their silenced cries

As I shatter to velvet ground again
their eyes follow me down like rain
though jewels don't match with love
it too has long run away perhaps
Spread its wings, out gone the dove
next to me, I see my duke collapse
how lovely, we are the perfect ashes
of two impatient, imperfect clashes

— but I did not dart into the field with a sword in my hand
I stood by the archers, choked poetry out a quill’s hollow chest

my sisters could slay heads in smooth, swift motions
their tiaras glimmered in pools of enemy’s blood,
but I only gagged at the sight of rotting flesh

led no soldiers on my armoured horse,
I sat by the rocks and stared at the ocean from dawn to dusk
picked up the flaccid of my limbs and willed them to endure
one more step, one more step, one more step,
one more—

shook and whimpered under weights of my velvet sheets
I drowned a hundred deaths beneath the layers of silent nights
— could’ve fought dragons, I chose shadows instead
and I did not win wars under the silhouette of my cape
I curled up at the sound of cannon *****,

shrieked louder than the wounded every time
an arrow kissed a heart
and I saved no bruised kingdoms with my flowing blood

sat by the roses and talked to the bees
cried out tears for a carcass of crow,
******* my bones with my feeble flesh
and I begged them to not break apart,
begged through every sigh of the air,
— every burning book,
— every hissing of the rain
every drop tiptoeing out a mouldy tap
I begged them to not break apart

walked though the forest with a lone wolf in my skull,
I sat by a newborn **** singing her back to sleep

and I cried out in pain when a knife ripped open my wrist
did not jump through dubious cliffs and roar with the winds
nor did I fight a hundred knights —
with a broken arm and a tired blade

I winced at the sounds of slashing swords
— shivered at the thought of a dagger’s stab
I dragged an obsolete chest through aisles of dusty, empty shelves
and I whirled around lilies and laughed with the frogs
all while melting away—

I Inhaled, exhaled all night— all day— with these rusted lungs

escaped a thousand chains that snarled in my bed,
I forced dry breads down my narrow throats
and saved a young jasmine from a greedy bird,

fell down thrones and I kissed a hundred grounds
through bleeding lips and muddy gowns,
molded my hesitant voices into tunes of ballads hand-stitched
I brewed tales upon tales for the lonely moon

I willed the vacant of this heart to breathe
every day,
every endless hour,
—every whisper of the despaired firefly
—every flutter of the wind
—every chuckle echoing in the sea
every tick of the yawning moon
and every tock

and don’t you dare—
don’t you dare
tell me about the battles they fought—

Frozen lakes, a little more do freeze
Frenzied lovers love once again
A bewitched battle we dare relive
A spear we’ll take, a spear let go

Such are the deathless hours killed
A thousand ashen folks forced to live
In ballads eternal, etched in stone—
No mourning, no worry
Shall dig us a way out of this dusk
No morning, no chipping sparrow
Betrothed to spring
No sleep awakens our drunken peace
No ghosts unfading in need of slumber

Withered we weep, withered still our waltz
Withered we love, withered still still

How beautiful is our desolation
How recklessly brave

Oh, what star kissed poems rush
Though the blood that gushes
Out of ravaged bones—
How lovely do we ache, how lovely go on
So profound is this torture and its pleasing touches
The breaths leave us for the blue above
And we, shivering, lie

But so, so beautiful we slay
So brutal stay—

Frozen lakes, a little more do freeze
The beaten bards out again on the streets
To preserve in blooms
A thousand wretched tales

Oh, how valour never became a being so well

bed:
blood
in us
of mud

shed
the rust
muscle
of dust

red:
tongue
wrung
strung

said:
run
the run
begun
(we did)

-

head
of toil
of ours
in soil

bread
of skin
soiled
in sin

led:
we went
say, patent
we went

wed?
ha, sweet
pleased
bland wheat

bed:
pillow
above us
below

bed:
black hand
fragile
and

before she was death I
often saw her in the orchard with
her pet ducks and fluttery dress
when ancient pear trees abandoned their leaves
she’d pick the weakest and tie them to her hat
collect the newest, give them to the river
the longest, she’d knit into baskets and matts
gift them to old maidens and lonely men

and the rest, she fed to the flowers

and I know that before she was death
she loved flowers but she
never plucked them
she waited for their mothers to let go,
then she’d take the cadavers home
and make beauty out of them

before she was death, she liked
to talk to the graveyard at night
dark wasn’t ugly to her,
and silence was only the trees talking

now, night lives in her obsolete house
when sun goes down, he likes to come out and
pluck stars off skinny bushes
her brightly painted walls are old lattice leaves
behind, the mountains laugh
and beneath them, a kingdom flourishes
not like corn fields near the bank,
a dust-storm, or a mistletoe

and no one talks of where she went though
the talk goes everywhere—

but I know she too feared lone woods
and moonless skies
she saw beauty in all, but nothing
sweet in the softness of flesh

and I know she despised the old cave
behind her house, for it was where she went

her crown is beautified with scared salvias,
petunias tremble at her name, and
daffodils don't even speak, and I
know I don’t want to take her place
so don’t offer me these pretty tiaras
and silence is so much more than trees talking

and some plants like to crawl up on others
**** the life and spit it out on the dirt but I’d
rather be towed down by those furious winds

and meddle not with me or my blood
I could show a softer way in—

like how her blades cut through grey grass
and how her fingers twisted to tie them strands to sheets
and meddle not with me or my blood
I could show a faster way out—
how the leaves bid goodbye as they glided
away with the waters; how her paintbrushes
emerged, soaking, out those liquids
and how she painted poetry out of dust

meddle not with me or my blood

she, who moulded the ground
into toys and pots, taught me
to befriend the daggers, and trust them
taught me how stinking corpses were better
than scentless lilies—and fanged
wolves were often what willed the sheep to live

before she was death she
used to sing a ballad unusual,
'I do not wish to take your place on that
throne, dear death,
I’d rather rot in your prison cells'

but death has not time for pleas.

Have you yet heard the painting
That the baker's daughter yester sold
That bears the bones of a day of old:

It dragged on streets, nearly gratting
The stillness that turned all eyes above
The farmer gave the farmboy a shove

And home he racing fled to tell
A war had come and it called for fight
Out skipped children bleating and bright

So swirled a red in sky's blue dell
And keen blew ancient horns of doom
As upon a frothing dark then loomed

The battle in rows lifted its heads
And far was heard the whistle of sword
As forth in silver might the horde

Came dancing right to our door-beds
For hours did bold a circus ring
Of cling, clang, and clatter and ring

And then, fair pilgrim, woke a slip
A stumble in storm's slim discipline
And down went warriors one by one

Quick passion gripped on sky's red lip
And sank a sinking sweet defeat
As we welcomed home the rain's bare feet

Dance me when they are all weeping
Dance me to the sound of their grief
Dance me naked, pitiful, ordinary
Polished a wood to hold the mirror
Polished a mirror to hold the world
Polished a world to hold me, O
Simple acosmist, dance me thoughtless
To the edge of your thoughts
Dip me faithful, into disbelief
Dip me, trick me, pull me back
Taste the constant revolution
Brooding in me, taste the brood too
Senseless word, tasteless art
Taste that too. Startle, stumble,
Startle me thus - O dimmed Daedalus
Craft me wings, craft me the sun too.

Factory blackness, fingertips almost metal
Moon a cinder, mother ash. All about
Stretched walls of godless steel,
And a house like a chapel, unlit and firm.
I had known no such vacancy. Brevity
Of moment, bright with wit. Brittle now
In memory as the world works again
Tell me, were you the darkness that
Awoke me, or the dawn I sought
To pull forth with my will. My madness,
My disbelief. Were you mother?
Shivering, I piled my limbs to pyre--
Were you the interrupting current
That sped through wires
and shook the nerve. Were you myself?
Still and stone despite the show,
Shaken, stale, never the same again.

this bitter green dawn
does not move the city

that in crisp antiquity
spreads her thighs, her palms

her fingertips licked
with drought and the soft sweet

stink of the night
rubbery skin

flavourless as a leaf;
her armpits and knees

gape with rasping mouths
and the basins of the neck

rugged stretch
striped and on

up the sloping stumbling face
gaunt as concrete

where carts and rickshaws
startle and snort

succulent bulbs part
mechanical and jagged and

through the gutter
sallow eyes watch

cement tunnels
tumble and twist

the taste of thick leather
mossy on their walls

there are feet too
thousand toes

with chipped windows,
stooping they swell, and

there are dry highways
of the calves

where nothing lingers.
it is morn now

the birds gargle
and a thin yellow kite

shivers like a hanged thing
on the spidery scaffold

of an electric tower.
her salty streetlights

stare like iron
in the urinary winds that shoo

crusty litter
in between *******, and crevices

of eyes, sills of the hips
the cracks of the elbows

butter sun scatters
and coats the houses viscid

flies come
torment the quiet awake

her men barge out
hasty and mad

and vehicles shake
a thousand breaths

exit: their CNG sweetness
caking in the nails

and jamming the doors;
pungent liquids churn

and ignite in taut-limbed engines;
now gears tick and click

sweating rancid
and thick

leaking on roads
and roiling canals

gruff huffs and coughs
now the sky is grey

and cool
a cadaver

now loud ears unfurl
bare as banners

and shrill winds
pound hot-metal on skin

—

the bark-wood body
turns

and reveals the moors
of a stoney back

where steel rods
bend

at silly angles
and where they protrude

their same old tang of DC
and the same old

tingling of it
now a sigh escapes

the latex lips
and shutters shudder

over spiced eyes
now all is red

like hot tea on tongue
and the tongue tinkles

with the sounds of the heart
that ripe an onion

pleads to be pulled
out out out

and peeled
layer by layer

until it is none
and now, the familiar viscosity

soothes it again
and it swoons limp

a fat still-born
in the womb

There are boys everywhere

If you go down the street
to buy some floor of wheet
If you walk up a school hall
or just stop by a shoe stall
Go to the moor for a walk
visit the neighbor for a talk
If you go to the store for pills
or run happily up the hills
If buying a dress for a ball
or some wool to knitt a shall

There are boys everywhere.

Don't ever go out late at night
Change the path at their sight
don't ever look them in the eyes
Even if you wear a disguise
Hide yourself in layers of clothes
Walk in chains you ardently loathe,
adorn your hands with rings, stones
Then cover 'em up like skin on bones
Don't question the tightrope or cell
You'll be protected in this shell

There are boys everywhere

When they play you the sheep
You, my love, are not to weep
When they pull out their daggers
And start bruising you to shatters
You, my child, are to stay silent
Or they'll only get more violent
They're stronger, they're all around
Walk, run, fly, you they surround

There are boys everywhere.

If you peek into their playful eyes
they'll hypnotise you with their lies
If you try following them away
they'll leave you alone and astray
Don't you even reveal your skin
Even if they call you their kin
They'll crush you to mere ashes
and then laugh at their clashes

There are boys everywhere.

Don't smile or laugh too loud
they'll follow you out like a cloud
Don't step out of your prison house
They're cats, you a mere mouse
Don't draw curtains to sniff flowers
You know not all of their powers
stay in, don't whine, cover up
Walk slow, hide away, quieten up.

There are boys everywhere.

This is how it all has always been
There's so much you haven't yet seen
they say we were made to be used
and then thrown away when bruised
Say they they'll show us the world
Stuff then our mouths at a single word
It is how it is, it is how it ever was
there's no reason, there's no cause.

There are boys everywhere.

But, darling, I've suffered it all
and you're walking the same fall
I'll give you an advice tonight
Next time at their sight, don't fright
Look in the eye and let out a laugh
Walk up to then, play not the calf
And I know, my baby, I know
how tired you are of folks, but go

Where there are boys everywhere.

Go there, a flame in your fingers
run, burn down their rules to cinders
Go there, a faith blooming in your heart
fly, aim and fire then your perfect dart
When they laugh, love, don't you fall
When they snarl, you bravely stand tall
Go, open the chains, help all of us out
If they talk and joke, lion, you shout

When there are boys everywhere.

It's easy to give up and play the prey.
All the myths, you and I will slay.
I'll pick you up when you crumble
You hold my hand when I stumble
We'll take together this barren walk
We'll be the ones to light up the spark
Darling don't you hide anywhere
Even if there are boys everywhere.

      They cut
                your petals
                             not your
                                       w i n g s.

You have stolen my mighty dreams,
my glorious goals and ardent aims
that I had set with such delight.
Came you in at night, through
a window left carelessly open.
Put you them all in a bag, threw
then them out the same spot.

You then ate some flowers,
drank their essence, gulped
down all my hopeful cookies.
Climbed then you out
the same way the same way
climbed you in.

As if you had just not plucked the life
out of a an arid apartment.
As if the mountains you climbed were
not the result of your own deeds
As if the snow coughing sky did not curse
you for the cold you emitted.

Now here I am!
This ramshackled mess hugging me tight.
Scattered bricks of my own thoughts,
broken cement that my passion has become
Naked foundation, a mere shivering skeleton
but they say they see no destruction.
No wall needs fixing, no glass is bleeding.

I haven't cleaned remnants of the flower ***
the echo of the essence still lingers around
the halls like a silent ghost of the dead
Cookie tray buried under the dust of dishes
has long since given up hope for a new life.

Here I am now!
Two hundred years later,
still staring I am at my self-painted sky,
wishing to the electrified stars, questioning
the dimly blinking suns.
Still wondering I am!

How you managed to come inside
when there was no window to begin with.

I stole a sheet from the test papers
For my hands are filled
Already with ink
from exhausted pens
Well, that is all I planned to say
But I must keep on this ramble
Only these words feel real
Only they keep me warm

Sun dies gently behind the clouds
And gossips scatter around
Girls in blacks
And yellows and reds
Scarves dyed in greens, browns
And blues
Intricate galaxies stitched
On their swaying tunics

I do not dissolve here
In these beautiful tides
and their slow dance
Not with a carnage stuck in my chest
Not with the bleached dawns
Rising and rising restless
And we’re all fighting, yes, we all are
Why then
Is this field so lonely?
Not a mourning, not a deafening blast
Is heard

A barricade of silence
I wrap around us
Us, I,
The boy
who constantly yells for freedom
And the girl
Who will let him not

Then again, us
I, the two children inside
One weaves a step out of his fingers
Other hops on
Peeps out of my eyes—
“Do they want me yet?”
“No”
“You, then?”
“No”
What then is wanted,
They wonder
But do not say—

It is an ungrateful inquiry
All luxuries they have known in this house
Crowns and swords, dresses, blooms
None kept from either
Why must
Then they want out?

Then the guys pass by
The scarce colours
that fill up their clothes
And hoarse laughs erupting
Their uncovered heads
And princely gaits

I belong there,
No more than here.
Not in flowers, not in bees
Do I blend
Not in capes, nor veils

No weapon I wish to hold,
Not an anklet studded with gold

In the grass, I cross my legs
Far from beetles
Far from wasps—
I watch red ants crawl up my shoes
Crush them, I do,
Casually beneath my fingers
One, then, three and more
Until dusk is silenced
by the night

Not a beetle approaches
Near
I wear the shimmering skin of a wasp
Not a wasp calls
I am skin only

Later,
The black sky comes
And takes us far.
The girl climbs up my spine
And pulls the boy along
They zip me open
And crawl out
Sit next to me, and they sing a song

I am the castle
Who could not help them live
I am the rusty duel
They were born to fight
Yet love me still, they do

And the crescent—
It is a woman nor a man
A crescent it is,
a crescent, stays

And when darkness comes
And eats the world
We join our hands
And build a softer one
But what good—

It is too dark to write now.
The lights flicker like stars
with smoke sickened
They pound in my head, pound and pound.
I hope the ramble
Was worth the theft

You do not hear it
The lone has a singing
Like silken threads of the wind
When it walks through the city
Its robes draping
Over walls and as shadows
Darkening the noise
Our legs dangling,
We breathe in smoke
Dust and traffic talk
Nothing is beautiful but we stay
Nothing is as we had fancied
Everything gentle slinks away
Revolted and charitable
And we run our fingers
Along jagged concrete edges
Waiting as if
For something
Waiting as if
For something
Sorrow comes
A tender companion
And leads the night away to obscurity
I dream of laughter
Tumbling as pebbles into terror
Clumsy and crude, bluntly myself
I stumble through myself
Searching as if
For something
Doors open and torches are lit
The labyrinth unwinds perhaps
Or starts to, slow and sleek
As if in tune to the song
And almost the spectre of reticence
Is cast aside for rebellion

But then, the morning comes
And I am a tyrant again

Come over, baby girl, come over
Let’s play with your barbie doll
I know she’s too old for her school
But don’t blame her, love, not her
She was made a desire not a child
Come over, baby girl, come over
Sing with me the orchard song

Come over, baby girl, come over
Let’s put your barbie down to sleep
I know her crib’s under the rubble
But grass makes this bomb shell soft
Lay her down, love, close her eyes
Come over, baby girl, come over
Sing with me the song of dawn

Come over, baby girl, come over
Hold my hand, don’t you cry again
I know mother’s not here tonight
But her and baba loved your smile
This lonely, love, lasts only till dawn
Come over, baby girl, come over
Sing with me our grandma’s song

Come over, baby girl, come over
Let’s not think of home or this mess
I know the strict lady, she scared you
But she has a home, some friends
she'll never let your stomach growl
Come over, baby girl, come over
Sing, love, night too needs a lullaby

Come over, baby girl, come over
Let’s not weep for your barbie doll
I know she’s too young for a trade
But man said her looks make up for age
lovely enough for a month's worth grains
Come over, baby girl, come over
Sing, for tomorrow I'll be far away

Come over, baby girl, come over
Hold on to me and your barbie doll
I know it’s ugly, take this bomb shell
Plant in a rose, love, watch it grow
We’ll be there, you won’t be alone
Come over, baby girl, come over
Sing, for soon we'll be on our ways

Could I have seen them,
I’d tell you
in words—tunes—or hues.
but there’s more an eye can do

an eye can want.

cobblestones—
wooden benches
Skeleton trees, and pretty profiles
Sometimes, crimson skies
or crimson dirts— liquids even.
—she touches all she wants

          she wants all—
glimmering,
       teasing, deceiving—
Black boots on cement old
—yellowed pages sewed together.
  she wants all.

an eye can breathe.
And that was where they came
in caravans.
—inhale

perhaps snow-covered grass
   Or cracked desks
Perhaps trees laden with beings or
just—nothing.

Could I have heard them,
I’d tell you
in clinking bangles— carved ice— or weeping flutes
Could I have—
—could I.

they walked in— nay
flew. Nay, swam.
nay—
Could I have fathomed—

Carried torches, I think.
they marched deep into my caverns
—carried mirrors they.

what of the paw-prints engraved in mud
Crumpled letters
    lying naked in puddles— nay.
my caverns bore silk smoke over velvet nights.
dark—
and dreary and dying
and dead—

but they marched still
And their torches hissed.
Sapphire boots on sooty rugs—
     They marched.
They sang—nay.
painted— nay, moulded a
world out of cinders—
Nay.
Could I have touched, I'd know—

on every turn and every crease
They placed a mirror pure  
    as an infant’s tear
—or maybe a sharpened gem
who would dare to know—

In every dungeon and every hall
Their stares flickered like neon serpents
—nay.
Sun-licked butterflies, nay.
halos above mountains chaste—nay—
Could I have felt—

But one
—exhale
and they were no more.
Went into the rain perhaps,
or past moonlight
    maybe in pine trees under the sea
Could I have tracked them down—

but there’s more an eye can do
An eye can want.
light—
Between the dawn,
    between the darts
Children in smiling yards
light—
   inside coal,
Inside a broken sword—

She touches all she wants
   —she wants all.
and a ray falls on the mirror
and the mirror tosses it to the next
  and next, to the next—
Sun knits a web inside me.
beams and glitter—

Like a child’s song
or a kitten’s roar
—a war cry
Could I laugh like a spear
or mould the starlight into words
I’d tell you—

but the rays marched on
into me
   swift like kites
warm like— like iron.
nay—a mother’s hug
Nay,
beating drums
—or an armour’s clatter, nay.
Could I have known—

But there’s life in piercing screams
—And I was burning
But is it not a privilege
to watch the world wither
from the very roots of the flames?
to be their very mother—

when your wings melt
and towards the ground you
wilt
but you’re flying still—

cracks in the ground

like a frozen sea
cracks in the sky
like a frozen lip—
                quivering
then,
and voiceless fluttering
of word upon wordless wordy word

a low wind
that
proud wheat
    swept by

                   a bowing horde of gold

like kin on kin erupting
(because root dooms with it the house)
like a festival of distrust
where all centres
   in a tangle of struggles
own throats hold

gyres of limbs
              that themselves ****
themselves make

a ruffled head
that I so long combed
now a sea wild
wild
now slithering babbling streams
now lustful teasing waves
that shore then shore
meet and meet
and will rest not at all

what of—
blind infancy of impulsive beliefs
that through dunes and oases
go and go
(now nothing, now all, now none and all and all––)

a–– many sandcastle homes of childish sight
melt to doubt

— hold it—
this cleaving ground will be bound no more

cracks, indeed, all around

Cracks! Cracks in the ground
cried an old maiden in the town
and everything went wild—
a wind blew inside, an eerie kind
and cracks slithered around
as angst bloomed in the crowd
Houses; pubs and shops screamed
the barren land with blood gleamed
and the grasslands split into two
—as all winged hid behind the blue

Kids! Kids in the ground!
came a wilting, wingless sound
and shrieks danced in the abyss
—till dark ****** in a silent hiss
and more fell and all ran
till all fell and none ran—
The earth closed her crusty lips
chewing them all to little bits
but there stood in all the blur
—a nightly curse that you were

and the old maiden sat scared
wondering why she’d been spared
the four moons, for a blink, kissed
—no leaves moved, no winds hissed
nothing shuddered until— did— all
You swayed away as the sky begin to fall

Cracks! Cracks all around!

I mistook it for a cry
but it rarely ever is
As a lizard
ugly and still a corpse
under the frail dress
of a tube-light old—

As its eyes
alert and quiet
A sleeping village
where every whisper
every rustle
is tossed around
from dark to dark

and a tail
As the burnt edge of a leaf
Curled up on the wall
once white
—flayed to grey

I mistook it for a cry
Readied a sword
forged by dawns
Carved and beat
a shield
out of nights’ sleepless
eyes

But when ruin descends
it binds the dark’s calloused hands
and every whimper,
every crackle
is smothered
In its rusty, dry throat
(Restless tongue, a guard-dog above)

When ruin descends
it does so a flower.
A stone rolled and rolled
pitifully
down the road—
It does so lovely
and patient;

As a blossom taped
to the cement wall
watching the smoky light
for unfortunate flies
That may appease
its ablaze pyre of a mouth

While I sleep,
I sleep a dusk’s last breath.

I heard you like to sing
In broken, barren places
Well, I have found us a mansion
Old and rotten
And, say,
Will you not come over for a cup of moonlight?
I have built us a garden
With twigs and weeds
And hung up a swing
From the black, velvet sky
Will you not come by
In your wildest gown and brightest jewels
Bring along the gossips
Bring along the feathers
And all other abandoned things

Spare me the news of Palestinian wails
Or how a young girl was stolen
From a loud street
Put aside the talks of rising waters
Or how the things that are legal
Aren’t always moral
Do not bring along the laughs of explosions
That are known to bloom in
most arid of places

Tell me about the stars
Tell me the talk of the sparrows and doves
Or did that slender lady
Finally dye her hair green?
How are the dolphins?
Sing me the songs you wrote for fire
Sing of the ocean
And her fluttering veils
Make me forget I am not a gust

Will you not come by?
I have sought out a trapdoor
That leads to the purple forest
We will play hide-and-seek
In our frail, little world

They say the place
Was home to a lady who,
One day, washed her body
And hung it to dry
Will you not help me wake the dust
That sleeps all around?
We will hold a slow dance
With scared spiders and rats
Bring along the tired stars
and all other extinguished things

Bring along the debris
And maybe a ****** shoe or two
But do not bring the stories of still children
Or the shivering ones
Leave behind all the prayer mats
All of the prayers

We will swim in the shadows
And feast upon wilted blooms
Sing me the ballads of the clouds
I’ll sing you those in my head
And when, in the morning
The town’s folks will talk of the dead lady’s ghost
Swaying and singing
I will pretend the mansion
Never knew of us.

i stare at the ceiling and hours go by.
clocks tsks—
and cars, outside, laugh
lamp paints shadows on the walls
and the chocolate melts
—a flute sings
and winter settles on the floor
the fan hangs still— still— still.
a bear snores in her cave
and baby owls, with their moons, watch—
a river hisses meekly
and crops bow before the night
air chokes on gold
—and crescent yawns
the clock tsks— the clock tsks
i stare at the ceiling and hours go by.
the clock tsks.
the clock tsks—

Do not yet go
I have to say
Let us run
As one far
Into the sun
Let us burn
Perish fade
And singular
Stay
Never one absent
From the other
Do not go
Do not ever go
I become
A curtain
Over myself
I become
Solitude, still
And no cries
That I fashion
Are right
For the quiet.
Do not go
There is nothing
For me
Left to become

Don't sleep
Don't sleep
I begin to
Like you
A little bit more
I shift and sigh
Say your name
Fatigue rolls
Somewhere by
But, alert I
Imagine
So many paintings
To make for you

You mumble
Childishly
Your laughter
Is glittery
I wish
For so little
I wish too
Intensely
Dont wipe me
With a stiffened cloth
Soaked
In turpentine
And a hundred hues
Dont stir me
I might be disturbed
Out of skill
Out of thought
Onto a burlap scene
Grotesque
Picturesque
And so, so true

Don't move
Or I might too
I might too
Become a facet
Among the facets
Of your horrors
I might
Become art
Might become
Beautiful
In that strange
Black way
Of art

Dont sleep
Talk to me
Speak to me
Let us be
Normalities
Let us
Hold
Technicalities
Forget
Sentimentality
In the silly blue painting
Of an eyeless pretty
Smooth and porcelain
Perfectly closed

No night
To mourn into
Dissolve into
To stumble,
To tremble into
Don't sleep
I become too much alone
Shrivel, burnt sienna
I cannot move alone
I become the paintings
That I fear to paint
I become the sombre
Debris of your laughter
Cold, blue
Featureless
A moonlit night
Nothing but red
You don't know
That I like you
In my head
Come back
Come back

this earthly gaze
still so stirs
even now the face
something kills

mountain eyes
still do peep
upon all that dies
and then do leap

on our frail fortress
in the green
you do not rest
your golden keen

say some fable
invite
if we then are able
do bite

unclothe sheep
unearth meat
your secret keep
we will in sweet

bliss of moonlit bit
turn then all away
and lure with just the wit
of a silver bay

laugh faceless
sound of sea
on grey impress
the sound of sea

sight of shadow
gallows' scarf
in gusts then flow
call on the calf

row a waving
seeing and still
move the boat-wing
down the hill

down down
we do come
smile now the ivory crown
do we you become?

I was happy once - when sadness loomed
Over gangly shoulders and looked
With its bare black eyes upon the world
Upon which I looked, I laughed pale-toothed
And gaunt, and startled its wings that clothed
My pretty green arms and made me lean
into the silly embrace

Sweet, ghastly vehicles churned
Before childish eyes, my childish eyes, and
All night long I watched the city chase its tail
Do you understand? There is a gloom
To trap the soul. The laughter but boiled
Oozed out like ants from a bottle of sweet -
Canvas-skinned, like torn milk it was, and
I chased it like a babe before a bee,
Then like a babe I feared its pretty pinpricks
There is a beast in fear that touches
The young

The gape of a cold cold crown that makes
Even the crescent ugly - of rains run stale
Through the ages of dance, of wheat fields’
Jolly feathers and the merrymaking
Of the nights when warm things creeped
Nearer and said things so gentle, they lead
Through paths of grey caress toward
The golden sun

There is a gloom to eat the sky
A joy that mumbles like dry thunder, that wobbles
Like ripe clouds through the winds, swept off
From the heights…

Sweet, the night lifted her head and nodded, and
Sweet, all good things drooped like prayers
before stone - sweet, the crescents,
Of indent and star, where holy terror
Had loved us slow, never felt so small as did
In the leaning - the yielding - us, beautiful:
Bone-eyed and bare, shuffled off from the heights
Of silver youth, as ****** birds, as ****** boys
Through the winds, and we melted
Sifted, out of ourselves and into the honeyed
Embrace of old

Flower does steal hearts
but I wonder how the petals feel
wonder if they enjoy their lovely imprisonment
if they ever think of breaking free
when a flower dies it's all but humanly
does not laugh one day, still the other
does not walk down the road unsure of reaching home

death's patient like that
it too enjoys a good show before taking a shot
too likes to play before gulping down its food
first the sepals turn yellow
then mustard like sunlight through dusty glass
then the blush starts to fade
and petals begin to wither
like an old woman, her pretty face sleeping
blanketing them, the tired leaves curl up
waiting for wind to wash 'em away

I wonder if they actually die
if freedom's life, I wonder if they've just been born
I pluck a sunflower and I pull at it wings
I collect all and hand them to the wind
tell her to be gentle, she promises, relieved
I bid them a goodbye, they're too shocked to reply
so I watch as the wingless birds soar around the sky
yes, soon the wind will tire and let them fall
yes, they'll settle down and rot in the dirt or drown in sea
but they'd have rotten anyway

yes the last remnants of their existence
will depart with the gusts but they always did
so I tell the plant her babies are finally free
I don't see her smile, I don't need to
I never saw her cry for her flowers
quietly she'd let go, a little to serenely
as morning breeze took their corpses away

I never was a fan of flowers anyway--
I see them everywhere, in castles, in glass jars
in gardens and stone mansions, pressed in books,
taped on windows, tied in hair, ever so pretty, ever so.
washed and clothed and jewelled and caged
Someone shouts at me from the street
saying their kite just fell on my roof; if I could return
I take in their dusty profiles, and ragged clothes
faces lit by the splendid smiling suns--
I think my petals have settled down.

Do not come to me to comfort
I am strange and I can say nothing
I can say nothing as might soothe
Your electrical worry or doubts

I am a chocked word, suddenly
Teary. The lip quivers, the eye
Crinkles, and hands begin to move
To try and hide a thousand things

I am shuffle, snort, stumbled
Through the hard-edged streets
Shadows curve upon me, but
Move unstopped nonetheless

Do not stop, stare, ponder kindly
I may break to a hundred bits
Of sordid limb and red, I may crumple,
May thin, I may really begin to weep.

So white
I thought it would tear through
Red revolution, gritting stones
Electric convulsions
And ivory tides

I felt children weep
Soft, long sleeves soggy as lattice
That, flayed to leaf, too long
On porcelain lay
Hisses and gasps—
Were sobs always so volcanic?
Like suns— erupting— quite not—
Wilting— to stars— blinking—
Gushing upon—
Each other; a strange confiding
Nakedness

And feathers
In bronze dressed— stuttering—
Stuttering, bubbling
Would that the flood would loosen

Rather melt—

Rather the moon than Jasper,
— It’s gory quiet
Rather pebble
Rather mud-licked bumbling babble

But melt— melt— Oh,
Never quite full for the night!

I feared it would burst
Crowds of red-cloaked seeds
Into a havoc of fruit and flesh

I feared I a dandelion
Would open— would sway away, away
From bits and bits— of me, but

It hit— hit, hit hit
The jagged black insides of mine
And I was real

I was real

Gasping— gasping, till it—

Here I lurk
Clutching my shadow
In my fists
It shivers, shrivels, sighs
A flame shushed to silence
On its ashen throne
Here I grasp
Grasp the oozing, burning night
That drips down my fingers
A palm beneath a palm I place
A palm beneath another
It the creamy tiles kisses
And will come to me no more

A rumble wobbles
around the room
Of laughs and talks
And talks
However do I mingle
In these faceless folks?
However do I fathom
All these massless worlds
Orbiting around ecstatic tongues
That birth them
Birth them on and on
Birth them meaningless, and birth them blind

I think,
Maybe when the flood dies out
I think,
Maybe then I will see
Pick up the shells this land could not drink
And read the tales preserved
In their wounds
Maybe the drunken ghosts
Serving all these brightly dressed drinks
Will approach me too—

Not yet though
Not yet

I pull little hymns out of my throat
Roll them around in my mouth
It is there they sway,
There they wilt

A gaze chained to my eyes
Wanders about
Like an injured fly
On one face it rests
On one chuckle stumbles,
A crack skipping down the wall
A high-pitched laugh blooming
In the corner
There is a bleakness, believe me
In this world

A bleakness so pitiless and rotten
Its stench covers all that is born
All that is not
All—
There is a bleakness
And I often mistake it for my own
But I do not now
It is there in every eye
In every corpse hanging between the ribs
It grows up like a sturdy ****
On arms and legs and
Bones
Up and down the aisle it flows
In this classroom twinkling
with childish mirth

Up and down
It pats heads and laughing cheeks
It is there
It is there
And will not still
Will not stir either

I think,
I must warn them
These energetic faces trying
to resurrect joy
From the flesh of stories all skinned alive
Warn them
I must, I must
But the words pile up
And floods pile up
One upon the other thousands
And I lose myself somewhere

The chatter blends in with the chortle
And I cannot tell
The shadows imagined
From cloaked figures swaying around
I would warn them, believe me
Warn them I would
If only
If only I could grasp hold
Of this darkness
That mimics me everywhere I go
Ghost of a black lamb
I once sacrificed for
A purity I loved to violence

And longing never became
A shackle so well

I think,
maybe when the flood dies down
I will breathe,
I will breathe maybe
Here we lurk
A slave upon a slave rests
A slave beneath still
Two ghosts I birthed,
Two lambs opened up,
One will not love me
And one will not not—

Now
The thunderous joy subsides
And I am out of breath
Cheeks hurting
Do I wear this face of self
Everywhere i go?
Do they see?
The confliction in creases
The smallness
The largeness
Of things
The disproportionate
Incapacities
I am no sombre-eyed bird
They say I smile sweetly
But I do not like my teeth
I do not like my joy
I am stiffled by my
Beautiful
Self-acceptance show
It is terrifying to appear
To be seen, twisted
Moulded over and over
By the eyeless mind,
Ever unchanged and
Impossibly me
I am open
For all but myself to see
And how many faces
For how many watchers
Am I to wear them all?
By God, am I to become them

Now, alone, unbothered again
O mourn in morning dressed
What becomes of sincerity
Laid bare to us in nights
Do you wander as pilgrim
From hearts of men to dove
What agony bleats in breast
Of that little bird of woe
What agony bleats in breast
Of our little hearts of woe

**** this ****, so pretentious

I am slowly
Quietening down
The day does not
Shine as lively
And the nights
Are thickening
As if squeezed
Or boiled
For hours on end
I am

Thinning

I stare out unable to spot out
a light, a spark, or a sun on this starless night
and I start to feel the numb, hopelessness
arrive and take control of my insipid body,
I wish.
An act I stopped practising ages ago.
I wish that I could paint a moon and splash some stars
on the dead sky outside my glass window,
and watch it till dawn comes out.
-A fake reason to hope