Remember me when I'm gone as a friend
Not as a brother, father, or lover
If my epitaph reads friend, in the end
I'll be proud of time spent, when I ascend

challenged
i hold my breath
waiting for the moment
of my dream to arrive
to walk in and say hi
i am here and this
is what you ought to do
im your passion
fulfill me now.
patience is painful
as i await to create
the life i desire
i want it now
but then i open my
eyes a little bit more
and notice the life
i have today is one that
i want as well.
i am wealthy now.

Sag my corpse
in 32 degree weather
through the city of God
where paraplegics dream of running.
“Oh Rhodesian mercenary,”
humble my soul again
like in C(hi)(ca)ongo.
But remember
The revolution starts
on my mama’s bed
at half past six.

So excuse me while I smoke my drink like a Brooklyn Leftist from the 40’s tramples
burning cigarettes on cold pavements where codeine and Sprite
make any Tuesday fabulous because we already suffered from (and for) the goods of mankind.
But before you read me the history of Hatchepsut;
I learned the art of man within the confines of FCC regulations after my ‘Pa threw ******* out the window and made life in the cell not mundane by telephoning philosophical-entendres    
that tomorrow never happened.

He too was from the blood of the ancestors whose bodies were charred on as goods—
whose children now char their bodies with the goods of the goddess of Victory—
the official trademark for the lost Exodus—the blood and blue moribund—
sagging pyrrhic victories in 32 degree weather as homage to their charred ghost (fore)fathers
who preyed to the city of God for bread

everything has stopped
there is no before
no after
nothing is coming next
everything is here
it is now
in this moment
as our lips touch
and my body melts
my heart is yours

my dreams are
the texture of the earth
softened by the monsoon
a clairvoyant fragrance rises
from the green sprouts
pushing their way through-out
and through-in
my rain-coloured mental canvas
a cool drop snakes down
my ready spine
i’m dissolved
in the frissons that ensue
even as your warmth
embraces me
every numbing night
the winds detach the flowers
from every mourning tree
and i give you myself
as you rain on me
incessantly

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   13.06.2013
   Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

Twenty-five years ago
Upon the cold driven snow
I dreamt of future days
Of us in a summer haze

Seasons were born then passed
Our weathered love didn't last
Another summer now
You're still in my head somehow

Days gone by, all grown up
Once dreamt of sipping the cup
The season brought me wisdom
Dry mouth, yet breathing freedom

In the winter of my youth
I thought that you were truth
Now in the summer of life
I'm glad you aren't my wife

love came in many disguises
sometimes a name, sometimes a grace,
taking the mute pages out on a walk
absorbing the sun's rays
in a hope that some golden drop
may filter into my poetry.
but the words only vibrate
when you're near to feel their dance
--they care not for any other applause.
they seek only to reflect this phase
of our meetings silently held
under the mango tree.
of my hand attempting to leave
its mark upon your palm
its gentle heat melting
my core and yours
creating some new alloy.

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
  25.05.2013
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish