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 Sep 2014 kat
Kuzhur Wilson
 Sep 2014 kat
Kuzhur Wilson
One Sunday
On one of our many births  
must become the Pappa and Mamma
of an ancient Nazrani tharavadu.

I will go in the morning
And return with
A kilo of beef  meat
With bones
Two kilos of tapioca
And may be also a *** of toddy
From the toddy tapper.

While I slice the meat
You will crush the coconut mix
In the grinding stone.

I will come, now and then,
And wipe my face
In the chatta and mundu
Draped folds of yours.

Go away you shameless man
You will dub  
The slogan of a coy mistress.
I’ll drum quick rhythms  
On your buttocks
With pleats.

The kids will see
You’ll repudiate, with your eyes

With the sun
Our bodies also will get warmer
Drops of sweat
Will make studs
On your
With the fold of
My chequered mundu
I will wipe them off.

The sun will grow warmer
The toddy inside
Will simmer
In our bodies
An insatiable hunger will torment.

The aroma of
The beef curry with the coconut mix
That you cooked
Will drift into my nose.
Unable to control the craving
I will pick
Tapioca pieces from it and eat.
The hot bits will smolder my tongue.

“You Glutton”  
You will then
Whisper to my ears

By the time I wash my hands and sit
Calling out to the kids
And you, to come for lunch
The 12.30 bell will ring in the church.

From that unexpected
Which we spent
We will set aside
Some memories
for the next creation.

**Trans: Shyma P
1  Andrew Marvell’s To the Coy Mistress, imagines the normative woman as one who is shy and slow to respond to the ****** advances of the lover.
 Jul 2014 kat
david jm
Circus Story
 Jul 2014 kat
david jm
Guilt was my new device,
Left outside my habitat.
Falling chest first,
Heavy hearts killed the acrobats.
 Jul 2014 kat
 Jul 2014 kat
i'm kissing                      
chom­ping away            
at a memory of you      

i'm kissing
chomping away
at a memory of you

                       **i'm kissing
                chomping away
         at a memory of you
LDR life.
 Mar 2014 kat
Stop blaming the weather for why you've become so cold.
 Mar 2014 kat
Ben Skross
Untitled #3
 Mar 2014 kat
Ben Skross
i see you in colors that dont exist
purple blue gold
green orange yellow
dont do you justice
you could replace the northern lights
and be a hundred times as beautiful
the trees envy your freedom
youre an artists favorite medium
I see you in colors that dont exist
so many parts molded together to form you
I see you in colors that dont exist
and im jealous of the suns ability to touch your face everyday
 Feb 2014 kat
I want that lampshade in the corner to cast away the ghosts by my side
I want your hand to be intertwined with mine at every possible point of time
I want to feel like the waves day and night with rising tides
I want to hold that photograph that captures you in the perfect light always
I want to have that imperfect love when everything is simply perfection
I want the winds to blow through my hair like I'm as carefree as it is
I want to expunge the tornados and hurricanes trapped under my skin
I want to be held like preserved fragile parchments from ancient oaks
I want to be taken like a possesion while being loved like an enthralled being
I want to feel the confidence of the flames in your eyes that still burn
I want to see the swirl of the myriad of colours labelled by digits undefined
I want to live and breathe like hummingbirds in the forest
I want to be wild and in danger; constantly threatened and protected
But most of all
I want you to find me
To cut through every hedge
that stands in between us
Find me

 Feb 2014 kat
oX Sampson
 Feb 2014 kat
oX Sampson
The end is nearing
without a doubt
of casual
 Jan 2013 kat
Lips like Sugar
 Jan 2013 kat
I want to hear you lie to me.
I want to see the sweet syrup of deceit
fall slow and seductive from your quivering lips.
I want to pile these little white lies up on pancakes;
like powdered sugar for a freshly flipped soul.
I want to see your eyes hold firm in deception
chiseling the cold ice of your gaze into cubes
for chilling the sweet drink of my victory.
I love the instant look of
guilt and anticipation;
the bitten bottom lip;
the chest puffed out,
with a breathe of indignation,
for my knowing;
the tear filmed eyes;
the legs rubbing together nervously;
hands run back golden ribbons of hair over perfect ears,
and scratch at angel shoulders
where those wings we lost should still be.
Your adorable when you lie.
**Lie me a river.
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