Innocent eyes, Innocent lives
the day the world lost it's light
In times that are so dark and dreary
Hope only breeds eternal misery

Little toddlers trickling in
preteens just going about
Teenagers just about to begin
All like chalk, were wiped out

Witnesses to horrific crimes
it'd have been better if they were blind
What was their fault, i ask
they hadn't even begun their lives

One death murdered two
a child's death killed his parents too
What was their pathetic excuse
to embarrass humanity,such abuse

Oh those young supple lives
How great was love's demise
So many worlds jolted with shock
Of how humanity came to a full stop.

He lusts after her, just the luscious woman in flesh and blood,
she yearns for what is burning deep within him, luminant
she saw reflected in his dark eyes, when he peered at her *******,
but didn't sense the horse, overwhelmed by the scent of a mare in heat;
between heaven and earth, they stood divided,oblivious of the fact
that love is a flame that ignites only when they stand heart to heart, together.

In the villa in Sharja,
A banyan tree stood, stuck to the wall of the building.
Mind throbbed as soon as it caught sight of it,
Touched it to my forehead in reverence,
Remembered my father who understood trees.
In the book she has kept closed,
It should be possible to still see
The memory veins of a leaf-
Plucked after touching its soul and seeking permission.
‘It is a sign of prosperity,
It cleanses the atmosphere’, Mary too said.
New tenants came in the room vacated by Priyan and Anjana
Jaya aunty and her husband said that they wore skull caps
Narayanan, wearing sacred thread and sandalwood paste on his forehead,
Anthony with rosary and sacred amulet
After them,
Youngsters of this type were not seen so nearby
One night, when I went out of my way to touch that tree,
I heard speech of a rhythmic nature
From the room of those who wore caps
It passed through my mind, ‘these are times when words become music.’

It was a Friday.
While watering Basil plants,
Saw the branches of the banyan on the ground.
Its leaves, like heart shattered..
Whitish veins drained of blood
my eyes hurt
As I ran to it,
Saw the tree,
Looking like a worshipper whose hands were cut
While crying, beseeching the heavens , arms outstretched.

Father,
You used to say that there were many types of trees
Which tree is used to make crosses to crucify humans, Father?

Answer my destinys call
Where doth my future fall
looking deep in the crystall ball
my journeys step stall

fear of failure fear to fail
eludes the victory heart frail
broken dreams in lifes trail
a ruderless ship broken sail

conjure thy magic crystal ball
Show my way in summer and fall
let not fail the hearts call
Courage to walk tall

Through the misty glass I seek
thunder storm lighting streak
Shining sun brightening souls weak
Whispered pains in ears doth speak

show my way let not fall
hold my hand hear my call
give me strength good for all
conjure thy magic oh crystall ball

See, I can smile
Like the sun only shines on me.
But with every wrinkle and every fold,
Every muscle that works to create this fallacy on my face,
It hurts more than the pain,
I try to keep hidden inside.

Look at those stars we claimed our own,
Picked them one by one and named them too.
Now as I look up to the sky at night
Tears, I try to hold back.
Fighting to make myself believe what you are..
Only a lie imprinted in the back of my mind,
Slowly fading into the dark.

I have learnt to forget memories,
The ones that hurt the most.
I have learnt to not look at a star
And wish that things could be bright.
I have stopped dreaming,
Knowing they don't help at night.
I have stopped waiting,
Because its time that deepens the scar.

When I'm picking up broken pieces,
Of a life that derailed when I lost you to time,
All that remains are your words,
Leaving me writhing in pain,
On endless dark nights.

"I shall write a poem today", says my mind
Though I know, ultimately no verse will be designed
And many a day has gone astray
In wait of a single, inspired rhyme.

"I shall write a story today", claims my brain
Even as I watch my thoughts miss their train
And a screen stark white mocks my plight
While the cursor blinks expectantly in vain.

"Maybe I should take a walk", I surmise
And far above me, in the skies
A troubled bird drops a ****
And inspiration splats between my eyes.

The year hath begun
Storms may rage
hearts may break
disasters bringeth pain

yet love to prevail
happiness be a song
Doors doth open
pain doth ease

tis a life lived once
a journey to share
a heart to beat
a hope to live

Share to tis world
care untold word
spare a space in heart
Share the joy thou got
Care to the innocent lot
spare a few thought
Share a beat of heart
care doth cost not
spare the hearts love
share the days joy
care to give a smile
spare a space in heart
share what thou have
care for them doth not have
spare a smile to hearts sad

The day after he
dreamed
of swimming in
the endless ocean
of pain
as a one-eyed fish,
he wrote
to his lady love

~ I need
to be caught
in the net of
a gentle fisherman
and reach you
through
an affectionate
fish seller
at your dinner table
as your
favourite dish.

~ How will I
recognize you
from among
all the pieces
of fish?
She asked him
in her letter of reply.
On the day
the postal strike
was called off,
she received
a tattered letter
and in it was
given a sign.

~ What
the wide open
single eye stares at
will be you.

Tiny specks, smaller than sand grains,
You and I-
Lost in the daunting cosmos,
The never-ending skies,
How insignificant, how minute
We are, I wonder,
With the Universe spread out
Before us in all its splendor,
Until our eyes meet and
The world we share, plays out,
I stare at our galactic bond,
From within and without,
Than all depths, vaster
Than all stars, brighter
A tale infinite, eternal,
Our love, celestial.

Is this how you lose control?
Your anger scorches me
Burns me to cinders
Do you not know how to be human?
To be considerate and kind
Are you a beast?
Quenching your thirst
With drops of my tears
Are you satisfied?
That you have made me cry
Buried me in sorrow
And wonder if my life is worthwhile
Stop
This cannot go on
Look into your heart
Search for the soul in you
Are you human?

By Kuzhur Wilson    (trans by Ra Sh)

It could be said that I, who should reach the office by 4, reached only at 4.35
because I spent much time jacking off fantasizing about that girl
who never got clearly imprinted in my mind despite best efforts.

But, that wasn’t the case.

It could be said that I, who should reach the office by 4, reached only at 4.35
because of a luxurious bath dissolving in the new brand of Chandrika soap.

But, that wasn’t the case.

That wasn’t the case at all. May be an incident which you will never accept as true  could be the case. That was the case.
That indeed was the case. It happened so. It happened approximately so.

While driving along granting the police enough cause to book me, by switching on the AC
and setting the volume of music high and switching off the AC and lowering the volume of music
and looking at the watch and switching on the AC and setting the music at a high volume again
and looking at the watch and looking with scorn at the cell phone in the silent mode
and again switching on the AC and switching it off
and again setting the volume of music high and switching it off,

There stood the house of death beyond that curve. I see it every day. A cute house
that prompts one to sing how pretty you are today! I didn’t stop the car, folks. It stopped by itself.
I have never seen such a house of death looking like a dome of gold. Upon my father, I haven’t, I swear.
As I enter the house, a hum on my lips, flower upon flower look at me and smile.
They smile at me with a hum that says you scoundrel never have you thrown even a glance at us
though we have always been here laughing aloud from the edges of the fence.
As if the song how pretty you are to look at has come alive. O flowers in the house of death how pretty you are to look at (like you, I am not bothered that grammar is all twisted here.) How pretty you are to look at!

Among the flowers lay the dead man who was as pretty. Don’t have to sing that I sang the how pretty you are song. That house was the chorus of the song how pretty you are. How pretty you are sung the dead man’s wife. How pretty you are sung the dead man’s kids. How pretty you are sung the dead man’s neighbours. How pretty you are sung the dead man’s friends. How pretty you are sung even the dead man’s mom.
You may not believe this. My ancient desire, that wish of my life, to give a kiss to the dead man at that precise moment pulled down all barriers.

I gave I gave I gave a kiss to that man.

The reek of alcohol mixed with the fragrance of Ittar. Mixed with the scent of flowers. Mixed with the scent of burning incense.

Oh! I gave him a kiss.

Folks, it was not like giving a kiss to an acquaintance dead or not. Honestly no.
A kiss given to an unacquainted dead man. No issues whether it was right to give a kiss or receive one. Oh! Even after writing so much I am not satiated.

I only remember that, reeking with the smell of liquor and letting out a nasty swear word, he asked me where have you been all these days?

Now, I am entering my office at 4.35. You know why I got late today. The dead man too.