i'm beginning to forget
the sound of water on pebbles
the cry of a hyena in the dark
life and death juxtaposed
a chilling antithesis

i'm beginning to forget
the thrill of a loving touch
the pain of a stricken heart
harmony and rupture adjacent
a terrible paradox

i'm beginning to forget
the joy you stirred in me
the deep sadness you induced
serene days and chilly blasts
a reminder of bitter-sweet things

he wrote in his diary
how the lord had blessed him
t'was the thirteenth of the month
a fortnight later the lord blessed him with demise

his eyes were dead dull
but his intellect was sharp

his demeanor was mild and dignified
made her more triumphant and less terrified

he did not see her screaming imperfections
but seemed to know all her silent actions

love for him  was a blind leap into the future
confident of a soft landing on green turf

So she learned to see things with her heart
and surprised herself with the riches there

when i want to be serenaded
i go where i can be persuaded
by the thumping beat of my heart
to dance to the lively beat of yours
you see, my life springs out of you
and always has this vibrant hue
so when i want to pay homage
to life and mystery incorporated
i humble myself and on all fours
lick the life juices of fleeting moments
till i'm hungry and blue no more

every walk that i take
every gaze up the avenues
exposes every low lie
about human progress
the glamour and the glitz
muffle the hungry cries
of bewildered no-hopers
the litter and the clutter
tell a story of decadence
and broken down values

when the cotton bolls were fluffiest and whitest
we would have a preview of the wealth waiting in the wings
and like spoilt brats pick our destinations and pastimes in transit
to stations that moved us up the ladder in society's hallucinations

we spoke about the white gold elevating us beyond our dreams
and our imagination soared above the almost mythical themes
of poverty fled and riches flared with flair as hard currencies
lay between fingers that had tended the cotton and picked the bolls

but the cotton didn't sell and it was another year of still-births
and stunted fantasies in a land hankering for good living and excess
oh the pain of gratification deferred!

tonight
the wailing wind
is my bane
as i look through the pane
of the hard crust of my pain
and wonder how i got to be this way
a homeless drifter on an elite highway
exhaling cigarrette smoke like a chimney
in the numbness of a freezing winter spell
selling a dozen crabby tales for a quarter
to bored yuppies aching for kicks
along the stiff terrain they must negotiate
to reach the peaks i scaled before i fell from grace
the whispering breeze tonight
is my lullaby as i struggle to sleep on my feet
and capture these rare moments of life in heat
on a day when a girl's smile is everything
and a stale slice of bread makes me a gourmet
dining on the rancid cast-aways of a third rate cafe
the twinkling stars tonight
are my peers as we help each other through the night
and a call-of-the wild song keeps playing in my heart;
it says classics are melodies woven in moments of adversity
and that i must continue to hog the fringes of society
and *****-nilly help salve the consciences of those who need someone
to throw the rich crumbs of their excesses at

cares and snares are all the same
and many thought it was a game
too late they found it was for good
and their lazy thought was their food

the eclipse in me
    dissipated
and a primeval sun rose
from the depths of my being
you were the reason for all that
      and i celebrated you
with crazy little things:
   i leapt up a tree
  nimble as a cat
and hung upside down
from a supple branch on high
touching the ground again
i went into a crazy spin
till i felt i was too ragged and mean
to fathom incidental mysteries
then you told me things
that made me delirious
and like one fleeing the virus
     i ran around the block
reminiscing about a bleating flock
that could never be contrary
              when
    in the morning haze
    of my clogged mind
freedom was the absence of joy
and joy the nemesis of sadness

you dazzled me with your antics
then mesmerized me with your acraobatics
till i crumbled before an expert onslaught
led from the front  by the mood swings
embedded in your hurtful shifting values

when she starts that yawning
you know you should be going
                  the writing is on the wall
and you can forget about getting another call

when he keeps looking at his wrist watch
you know there'll never be a cuddly touch
                  the signs are there looming large
and dead is your dream about floating on a barge

when the wild party is finally done and over
and the lights start blinking you find you've lost your lover
                                            it's plain to all and sundry
there's no capital in being solitary and sultry

since none of that can change the law of diminishing returns
though some along life's highways may wish for extensions
                                   but passing time means general depletion
and when your back and your eyes start failing it's check-out time

grilled stamina spiced with arrogance
marinated egos in bitter gall source
a touch of pickled common pride
a suggestion of mashed personality
served generously with indifference
on a platter of wonderful ignominy
going like hot cakes in these sad days
of lies emblazoned against night skies
hurry my man while stocks last
and before the merchants of doom
begin their desperate auctions of ethics
done with cynical glee and callousness
held together by a spread of mediocrity

I’m full of loud buzz
I’m a fizzy in a glass
I’ve got true class
to crown my suavity
I boast shining amity
in the seething cauldron
of a churning world
that our forbearers
would swear  always
was tossing and turning
and writhing and sighing
as equilibrium dissipated
at a time not anticipated
a time to lie down and cry
for the gory scenes in the world

you flaunt your glad rags
and taunt me for my shreds
you're a human rainbow
in a riot of colour and style
your shoes are from italy
a rich cobbler's work in genoa
your floral tie is pure chinese
with dainty designs and rich feel
you still speak well of pepsodent
and the wonders of fresh breath
compared to you and your riches
i'm an imitation human being
eating fruit and raw vegetables
while you wax lyrical on lasagna
chilli con carne and and tequila
at some up-market restaurant
in the leafy part of town
where your fleet of cars is a marvel
compared to my lowly fare your affluence
is almost banal in its carefree loudness
you've never worn broken shoes ever
or had a toe peep out of smelly socks
and you've never gone without food
surfeit is your other name, and everything
is a gas; your wild parties are legendary
i see all this from my hole in the ground
safe in the stench of the bad characters
that loiter and swagger in my world
blessed are the rich and famous of our times
for they shall only discover their poverty
when the party is over and it's time to go home

There are convolutions
and convergences
on life's highways and byways
What's in our in-trays goes out
And returns one fine day ahead
When the tray's contents bounce back in
We know they were never  gone

it seemed she was warm and cuddly
like a lovely song from deep inside
she seemed to be other things besides
and this made him tag along humbly
like a lover sworn to love in eternity
yet drowning in a flood of hollow tiffs
that shred the serenity of a drowsy day
on an evening when  all things were laid bare
for all and sundry to witness cruel truths
about what never was except in our fancy alone

he was scarce
like goodwill
and she was forgotten
like an old world story
till a chance meeting made them gather
crumbs and snippets to weave a fresh ditty
and follow a new dream to the ends of reality

cry baby, cry, though you are no crybaby
cry, baby cry, they must hear you in the end
those whose privilege it is to dispense favours
hope, baby hope, confetti might drift your way
whispered on by your delayed gratification

Like a baby
thirsty and hungry
For nourishment
I cry for Mother
In the worst of times
Wanting her
To make the pain go away
For she's where it all ends
And she loves us all
No matter what

reclining upon the wing of a whim
i recall those days of sweet leisure
when you were uniquely a treasure
and i was fully ablaze with pleasure
the sky turned a vivid scarlet
   the wind whispered hot secrets
   and the occasional lull in turmoil
   was like a fresh breath of life
  resting upon cultivated wishes
i recall those days of dew on the grass
and new blooms opening up to the blue day
  so once again comrade and friend, join me in a reverie
spawned on one of our wild safaris in deepest africa

You’re coy and detached
Like the proud moon
Bathed in silvery light

You’re so distant
Like the timid stars
Twinkling across the void

I am hot and boisterous
Like that old sun above
Melting your reticence away

Woo me as you do the sea
Stir up upheavals in the seasons
Of my renewed yearnings

With you life is a fantasy
Resplendent in stellar light
As the ancient dance  intensifies

his lean body promises something flawless
and his athletic gait and poise gurantee it
this dance carries the joyful pulse of centuries
filled with the aura of a communal choreography
driven by a pulsating talking drum in expert hands
the serene contours on his contented face -
how they belie the ostritch feathers ardoning his shaven head
such artistic grace and coordination are truly phenomenal:
his dancing head shakes in rhythm to the urgent vocals
of the melody section of the dance troupe
he blows a whistle to blend perfectly with the rest of the percussion
his right hand plays a pair of shakers with amazing dexterity
even as he directs affairs with a fly whisk in his left hand
his left leg does some fancy footwork in the dust
while the right one beats time in time to a silent dirge
the beat of the drum is insistent and demands obedience
to the dictates of heritage that require fluidity and excellence
the dancer is happy to oblige with a maestro's rendition
his smile and energy from the ages speak of art almost divine
who is it that speaks of multitasking as a tiresome diversion?
in this dance where one man does six different things at once
multitasking is an indomitable brand as well as art incarnate!

the bold and the bald
the cold and the called
the bored and the bowed
stalled and stole warming hearts
while the crow cawed timidly
and the deed was done indeed

waiting for something to happen
gives a false sense of motionlessness
but that's all in the mind

waiting for someone to notice you
takes forever and that's sure and true
but again that's all in the mind

the moments that stretch endlessly
and those that pass all too quickly
are really no different

our frantic little dances in the world
must look to some god out there
like the ants we watch as they wander

and these forever moments of pain, suffering
or solid success unlimited in scope or duration
are mere dewdrops in the scheme of things

thus i ask in utter bewilderment
how we explain eternal damnation
in proportion to the whiffs our lives are

This is the most likely place
to hide a secret and be safe
And Grandpa needed to be safe
Gleefully they hung all rebels
So he vanished into the night
across rivers and mountains
and right here under this tree
he put everything to rest:
what his heart ached for,
friends, family and love
in exchange for freedom
My obsession now is to reconstruct him
So with my heart in my mouth
I dig and scrape 'neath this old tree
But all I see is a gaping hole staring up at me
Grandpa's primitive gun has eluded discovery,once again.

glassy tears accentuate a wan smile
limp hand mirrors diminished vitality
as young flesh begins to shrink
consumed by the growling dogs of war

a comrade at arms does his best to stay calm
she looks at him as her bowels slide to the ground
from a stomach ripped open by cluster bombs
and asks him: will i be able to make it comrade
is this not the last sunset that i see with these eyes of mine

nothing is new in this old world
though everything is indeed new

we experience what others have
but never get a sense of deja vu

we are new to everything as it is to us

you're pouting
  i'm sulking
you're peeved
  i'm mellow
   and i know
it's the corazon
not the amazon
that's got me
whispering
      and
   whistling
  as el nino
  rains dearth
and we weep to see
good things go bad

the quiet whispers aroused a gnawing doubt
that was insidious, surreptitious and incessant
and spoke to him well above a timid shout
that said verbal power lay in being conversant
with what the heart is and just how brittle it is
when callous heartbreakers are abroad at ease
he pleaded himself vanquished and broken
and said he needed no eleventh hour token
to tease a compliant smile out of the shreds
of self-belief that *****-nilly everyone sheds
when belittled by the mule kicks of misfortune
from belated action when no longer opportune
thus he told his heart to be still and his mind to rest
life and experience had shown him what was best
when the world became a bitter and mazy wilderness
and that, in truth, was his unending epiphany, with
naked truths and outright lies in the dusk that had to come

let me tell you now just how i saw you:
you wooed the world with your sublime figure
accentuated by that supreme  walk of art in life
that became you so well in love without strife
i saw and felt the beauty reposed in you
but how futile and hapless now
this belated lyric to you
you must have come from a constellation of stars
your name should have been stella or estelle
queen of the skies who made earth her chosen abode
and walked upon it like a storybook queen
you spoke like a fabulous heartthrob
and had us transfixed like pilgrims in worship
your enigmatic gaze was magnetic
wafting but unseen incense oozed from your nostrils
as milk and honey danced upon your lips
later to nourish my thoughts and limbs
in the solitude of early evening as venus began to rise
in truth you were a goddess on sabbatical
and your fabled home is in the cosmic mists of time
where i hunger to be a devoted acolyte in your service
forever chanting the treasured words: it is well

as life will have it
some are explicit poems
while others are implicit ones
When you sigh and shake your head
and when you pace the tired floor
and steadily approach  that door
to the hatch that ushers you into a tango
you're quite obviously a vivid poem
with a rhythm and a diction all your own
there is always someone dying to know you
when you brood like an intellectual
and when everything is reality virtual
you're an implicit poem, morose and taciturn
when you paint pictures in weeping colours
and from ubiquitous critics seek no  favours
you're a dirge in e-minor - a veritable lament
that will only go walking when the day may

look no more for things novel
search no more for the spectacular
and stop once and for all being particular

be mesmerized no more by things instantaneous
neither be amazed nor bamboozled by things human
for in all such cases no immutable laws are ever broken

here we come now with one new phenomenal law of the universe
and verily my muse bids me tell you that everything is a miracle:
happily going into near-suspended animation
as you go into a deep sleep
the rhythm of your walk
as you go down the aisle
to embrace your destiny
being skinned alive and dissected
then sewn back together again
these are the unsung miracles of our times
radio
        television
                        the phone
                                        the mobile
                                                        th­e internet
and this thing called love

        everything is a miracle!

plastic money
plastic rice
plastic taste
plastic smile
all fake!

Owl eater
Fowl thinker
Low growl
High howl
Hades story
Which way
You going

there was a wild fig tree here
no other  tree stood near-by
on cosy sunny days we lay
under its spreading branches
watching birds chirp and peck
now only this gnarled stump
speaks of the memories  made
how do we choose to trade
a haven for this barrenness
and everywhere it's the same
we seem to like this sad game
of erasing familiar old places
and things from fond memory

love walked past my gate
and all i had was this hate
frying my insides fiendishly
in a wish spiced with bile
at a sad banquet craving madly
for unending serenity and glee
when love strolled past again
someone else was by her side
and i was forever the chameleon
in fast-changing shades of green
felled by bouts of unabated longing
and whipped into submission by my loss
so i reaped the famished fruit of my cross

With the furrowing of my intelligent brow
With my glistening muscle and brawn
And my rhythmic thrusts in shrouds of mist
Father, see me build a home for the young

With my smile and my agony alternating
And formidable forces galore frustrating
The creativity of my persistent yearnings
Father, see me build a place called home

With pangs of regret and sorrow banished
In moments of temporary accommodation
And with joy unlimited in the ascendancy
Father, see me build from a fusion of desires

Spurred on by the mellow essence of femininity
Wrapped like a surprise in garments of pleasantry
Blown gently to float like soap bubbles in the air
Father, thus see me grip an opportunity come