I dreamed of two men
cold as ice in dark hats
handcuffing a woman
before tossing her in the back
of a black barred truck
with stars on the sides
and a To Protect and Serve
bumper sticker stuck like
a punchline and a baby girl
and young boy were crying
standing behind the yellow lines
but two has never been
a number that adds up to
nothing because it's only legal
to pass one at a time in these
dark days of executive orders
you fear because you know
it's all the evidence they need
to make you disappear.

Tonight, as I flip through the world in the fog of the sky,
My brother's coughing beside me, rolling onto his right side,
We're pulling the bald landscape over our bodies of dust, 
We won't be dreaming of fairytales, just of a home to trust.

We drank too many tides, the sea is spilling over our bodies,
One day when our hearts explode, our names'll rhyme with casualties,
Along the tribes we race, at a young age hard we learnt,
That the longer we wait, the more of our memories will be burnt.

It's in black and white, the digital world they're fussing about,
We're in one cell of this universe that seeps no sound,
The clatter from the battleground rivals our ringing ears,
My dead mama said, boys were born to laugh at fear.

Through mirrors of smoke, I think I see distant planets shine,
I write to God everyday, can you patch the holes of mine?
At a tie in this war of peace, they bow down to the lion in the cage,
It'll only ever be a means to end, even our corpses will be estranged.

They only ever see eye to eye and claws to fangs,
Under clouds of fire, me and my brother will dance.

The old man mumbles in a dying voice
had my sons been alive.

A tear wells in the daughter's eyes.

She pours a spoon of water in his mouth
and wipes his lips and her eyes.

Having lit the pyre of his three sons
he was willing to barter his daughter's life
if that made God grant him another son
and here is the daughter by his bedside
feeding, cleaning and even shaving him
her only prayer to God being to save his life
bartering her entire means.

Outside the thunder cracks the sky
and she spreads a tarpaulin over the bed.

my son laments the father.

Inside her is no cover for rain.

A fleeting face to face,
serendipitous,
on a humid tropical evening,
was the first time;
it felt like a shower.

But our probing  eyes
must have known better,
they curtly demanded
one more quick look
as we passed
each other;
we were obedience personified!

Then eyes met eyes
many times by chance.
Two birds of passage
found themselves
preening feathers
on the branches of the same tree
chosen in an impulse,
proved so right!

You sit with your crowd
on the side of a long step
one on the flight to the cinema
a favourite spot I learn, later.
The arrow from your eyes
hit it's gleaming point where it should
with such sweet force
as I come down the steps
and I become  a falling feather.

At the shadow of the book shelf
I find you , a pigeon soft  
sitting at the table across me,
making our lonely hearts
speak in the eloquence
of loud thumps
in enforced silence.

But the true meeting
did happen in between--
in that expanding space
of sweet, sweet silence
within us blowing trumpets!

Your eyes were the keys
to open the door to that chamber,
through the keyhole of my heart,
love bled copiously from that impact,
like nectar, which I was
tasting for the first time ever.

Enjoying my lair;
never knew I'm so ******
territorial.