Autumn is a sturdy man
Eager to take your clothes off
What a mess he will leave on the floor

Some dignity hanging on
For as long as possible
But he gets bolder by the day
Complacent to stay.


Autumn is a coy woman
Eager to wear the colors of desire
What a sight she leaves for the beholder

Some courage to resist
As you blow her a kiss
But before she succumbs
She is promised a firework.


Autumn is a seductive game
Here to devour her right away
While withholding for her is foreplay

His approach is raw
She delays her fall
She wanted it to last
But he came too fast.

Eyes do not meet
But I still see
Lips are sealed
But still I speak.

I listen to
Your quiet voice
And I inhale
Your scent long gone.

I pray for you
Each night I do
I cannot touch you
But I am holding you.

That is what poets do

They romanticize pain
They idealize the torment

There is solace in darkness
Which they craft to enlighten;

Lure with words
The forlorn is adorned
Guilt is charming
Mistakes rewarding

That part that is revolting
The best line in their poems.

That is what poets do

They embellish heartbreak
To cement the heartache

But as soon as they leave their paper
and beautiful words captivated readers

Life can no longer render
The adequate metaphor
Agony is agony;

There is no substitute for it.

Write it down
That thing
You fantasize about.

Write it down
Those words you dare not
Say aloud.

Write it down

Now is the right time to write
When words will not sit tight
When they cannot match
Whatever you hold inside.

Leave it all to feeling
Will give these words meaning

Write it down
What silences your mind
Exactly that
Which makes your dear heart bounce.

It is a wall to climb
And one to knock down

Write it all --
The words do not need to blend
It is then
When feelings make the most sense.

Write it on paper
My love,
The one who will answer

One who can read
Lines that are not poetic.

This is me,
You see.
Fragments
Or the whole;
All the same,
You will see.

I am Truth
A version of it;

Any part you will pick
Authentic.

Here is the treat
Every facet
Of this mosaic;
My identity is one and
Universal.

Whatever you will get
It will be a best self
I am Truth
A version of it;

Take it
Or none of it.

They keep asking me
Did I do anything different
Not one bit
At last he appreciates me.

Can I not take

A compliment

Without questioning

Whether he means it

Look into the mirror

See what his eyes believe

Sees me as it is

Red lips he wants to kiss.

Part I

No words need be spoken
Inhaling loudly,
She is mindful and content.
The only artifice here
A camera in her gear;
This instant in a frame
As wonders engulf her,
She claims.

I stand at the centre,
Swamped by
The tick of high heels and chatter.
Mindful and composed,
Left aghast
By the mass who walk past.
The right words come up
Binding my feelings to my art.

Part II**

Smell the air
Both dig inspiration
Elsewhere;

Differences
Of worldly proportions
Our nature
Do not fit by definition.

Entering each other's realm,
We love to understand.

May this gap
Be bridged with time
For I am afraid

We do not rhyme.

I find myself
Visualizing your glasses
When he removes his.

I imagine his crooked tooth
When I see yours
Impeccably aligned.

I learned a new word today,
Cafuné,
Translates
To the act of tenderly running one's finger through someone's hair.

I grew fond of the act
Long before
Getting hold of the word.

I know not whose I prefer
Now his I adore
But as much as I do yours.

This is a *******
Torn by emotions
We have history, we share chemistry
I love you
Though I love him too
Cannot think of him
Without thinking of you

This is a *******
I have come to loathe
But the truth is
I belong to both.

We meet for afternoon coffee
For this I reckon
I would fancy a waffle with it.

How are you?,
The first sentence of the last conversation about me and you.

While dipping a piece of my waffle
In the whipped cream
I did not order,
I have a thought.

We have never been
More than a side dish;
Like a waffle I would
Every so often ask for.

To sweeten this life
I require more.

I still prefer to take
My coffee black, as plain as my heart.

Excuse-me,
Was that offensive to you?
I was just pointing out
Something obvious.

Oh dear,
If it were clear
I am sorry to disappoint
It was so smart I missed your point.

I have drawn
The lines of your silhouette
My ring finger
Dark from smudging
The shadows behind your head;
I color it now
Where is that brown
Accurate enough
To capture the secrecy in your eyes,
That kind of green
That matches the shirt you wore
The one I tore that night?
Painting the memory of you
However, the colors I use
Mask your true colors,
My muse.
Because you are black and white
Your rainbows are shades of minimal
There is no space for red
Or opening up for my sake
But I see;
That is a happy face
Listening to the blues
Below the surface.
You are black and white
Would you like some colors, I ask.
Hand over on the brush,
Just say the word,
Let me be pastel in your world.

It is all I ever wanted
With you
To sit and wait
In this crowded space
Waving in vain
To the waiter in distress
And I crack up
To calm you down
No need to fret
His smile tender
Once we place our order.

Between bites
And overhearing
The couple beside
I bask
In delight
Eating
My obsession
While you carry on
With the conversation.

I pass by
Quickly catching this sight
I stand outside
At at loss it is not I
Savoring sushi at your side.

I walk past all I ever wanted
With you
You sit inside
Reveling in my sushi
With another one than me.

How well will I perform
Does it depend on the right word
Gushing
Aching to
Exhibit perfection
So that you will see me
In that vision

How will you respond
To the reflex of being flushed
That I constantly misspell
Was always told
I wrote well
Yet to you
I cannot concoct a clever thought

This is how I tell
I drafted it then
Rewrite
Again and again
Until at night
The imaginary recital
Would flood my head

I love you that way
That the words I send
Are never close to decent
For it is my heart you confuse
It is so loud
To silence
I am reduced.

I got drunk on life
This time, like every time
The old trick works on me
I am just happy enough
Until I have had one too many

Then everything is buzzing
Fuzzy thoughts and accurate feelings

I carry on
As if my gut still permits it
Before promising, I learned my lesson
From overindulging.

This time, I will be more vigilant
Life tastes delicious;
But I should sip gently
Unless it is yet another hungover
From decisions I could regret long after

Then everything is buzzing
Accurate thoughts and fuzzy feelings

Drink moderately, or else I will be
Easily intoxicated
On this plethora of life experience
This time, I shall only get a little tipsy.

I catch you
Looking at me
What do you perceive
It is rapture
That you read
Immediately
I spot my reflection
In the eyes of this baby
And as he grins
What can he
Possibly think
But I, I am certain
Of what I seize
When I look at him
The purity is
Overpowering
I could bathe in it
And my only plea
To succumb to it
May his innocence
-- Even a fragment
Rub off on me
Because he inspires me
To see and feel
With the virtuous eyes
Of a newborn child.

I want to write again
I want to feel
Like I did back then
When my day depended
On the words I had chosen
-- The life I put
In my poems

I want to write again
I want to feel
The thrill of the pen
The delight that rushes through my veins
When the right words blend
The pain I endure
Once my thoughts
No longer make sense

I am exhilarated
When I start
Scribbling on paper
My heart at peace
As soon as I polish it
On my typewriter

I write again
I write
Like nothing ever happened
Like not a thing prevented me
Months at an end

I write again

I write
Because it is who I am
Because in time,
I always return
To my essence
-- That in the end,
Nothing feels quite right
Unless I am writing.

It all began on the night
I came back
Spotted one in the alley
Thought its bright pink
Had a pretty glow
In the dark.

Then I met one more
And another;
True Love spread
All over town
I would photograph
Each one
With my heart.

Starting to look for it
Proved to be
The wrong habit;
As it is written on the wall
That is when
I would least find it  --

And once I had forgotten
Out of nowhere
Someone out there
Made certain
It was now time
To be
Reminded.

True Love is everywhere
True Love comes
In all shapes and sizes
Eternalized
In the most symbolic places
On that brick
On a trash
At times spelled backwards
Others
With a message
I would cogitate on
Long after.

The last one
Was that kind
Its sense
Divine;

It read Love True
And in my heart of hearts
I knew;

What makes Love true
Is the way I love you.

I had been assured
God had a shrewd way
Of testing the sour
That paths would continue to cross
'Til I was able at last
To resolve
The implicit matters
Between us.
Time had passed
-- But
Time between goodbye
And the heart that says
Bon voyage
A second is eternal
I would wake up in the morning
Better each day
Though still in mourning.
I was holding onto nothing
Kept replaying the last thing
It was clear in my head
But when I saw you
What I felt
More shock
Than what I thought
was left.
Maybe I had to see you
This last time
To ferret out
Why you were never
mine
I was glozing over
Excuses
I never got
When all along
It was I
Who could call the shots.
Maybe I had to see you
One last time
A proper goodbye
After the one
You were not able to
Provide
-- For me to identify
And I was certain
I could never live
Without your shadow.
God made me take this detour
However I was now sure
It was the right path
For me to come out
Victorious.

Maybe she loves too easily
Yet she means it when she says it
Her heart on the table
For the person to devour it.

Maybe she loves too easily
She should see how things will evolve
Before flying, one has to first learn
How to crawl.

Maybe she gives herself entirely
That she should protect herself
So she will not be deceived
So briskly.

Maybe she gives herself entirely
And she should not unless she wants
To slowly sparge the pieces
Of yet another shattered heart.


    She gives her love too easily
    But when the ones she adores
    make it worth it
    It overrules
    All other times
    She ended up sobbing like a fool
    The only way to live
    To give is to receive
    She chooses easily
    Over carefully,
    Her heart
    For the taking.

He steps out for air
It is time for a smoke
He craves the nicotine
Yet what he exhales
Is electronic.

It is Thursday night
Happy hour about to start
He is not allowed to drink
It has the same color
Apparently with the taste
Of what he is aiming for.

What then is the point
To root for a substitute
Is it so hard to swear off
We need familiarity that
suits.

A discrepancy between
What is and what seems.

Using this word to replace another
Perhaps one to soothe the torture
Finding excuses to justify actions
A lie in disguise enough to comfort.

He decides to go cold turkey
It is harder but at least
He is not pretending
He feels his truth, forgets the substitute
He learned what passive smoking means
And as of late,
Apple juice had become his drink.

The ink you have seen
My love for you
Rooted
Deep under my skin
There you remain
For always
I will be willing
To suffer

A temporary pain
For a permanent friend.

Only thirty-six
Choose wisely
The next shot
Will be
The one
Worth
Documenting.

Others
You will have to
Remember
Force yourself
To lock down
In a corner
Smiles
Landscapes
Dinners
Which one
Is good
Enough
To treasure.

Technology
Took that option out
Click away
Because
No longer
Are you
Limited
Go on
Take another
Until you
Satisfy
Your desire.

Limitless
And you
Thought
You would
Achieve more
Everything valuable
Will all be stored

But what irony

Now there is
Too much
Information
Drowning
And confused
About what is
Precious.

Rather
Back to
Limited
There is less joy
In limitless

Being deprived
You had more
By having one alone
It mattered more
Because ultimately

Rather
Chosen wisely
Than have
One too many.

I will not show it
Just yet
It is not ready
To be framed
Just yet
A work in progress
It is still a mess
She is fast
She peeks at it
Beams
And holds it
It is perfect as it is
Unnecessary to polish it
Because
It is already
Beautifully completed
Right now,

Unfinished.

My orange dress
I wore it last
That night
My soul you undressed

I was in love
With all of you
You stripped it down
Claiming we
Belonged to you.

I am reclaiming
What is mine,
What has always been
Mine

I take a vow
I wear it now
This dress I love
My color of love

Dedicate it to
Ours to adore

The one
Given from above.

Now she speaks,
My cold hands
Feel
The warmth
Of his kick
Saying hello
For the first time
I am euphoric
For this nephew of
Mine
And already
I know
Since that first day
I prayed for you, I saw
Though we have not
Met yet
We are already
Connected
And always
I will come through
Across this wall
Of I love you.

The dark hours
Provide
My light
The best of me
Pops up
At night
A disco nap
Before I go out
Elated
Once the bass
Doles out
Energetic
'Til after dawn
I will continue
As long as
The music is on
And once I
Flit home
My morning song:
Streets in silence
Still playing techno.

All meaning is lost, when
Traumatized
By what One loves the most
I could not listen anymore --
What had always
Made me feel alive
From then on
Left me
Trembling on the floor
Just a sound
I would break down
Just a bang
I would go numb

How do I brave on
When my reason
To be
Veered from eternity
To treason.

I could not, I reckoned
Unless I decided;
I still deserve the best,
I stated.

The path to recovery
Is a wretched one
But find one
Even a rose
With too many thorns
Equals a princess
That soldiered on

I discovered
That I was able to once more
Write lyrics
To the tracks
That set me
Back on track

That I alone
Can possibly
Understand

The essence of
Its existence
The true meaning
Of one's being --

Brick by brick
Building me up to the music;
So not only can I listen
But here I am,

Dancing again.

What about stability,
He asked.
This is it,
I said;
As I left my seat
Never turning back
My head.

Here
Revisiting

Places and former feelings
Investing in a past
In the present that is
Anything but sad

I get some flashbacks and laugh
And others I ought to see past.

God willing

How I found myself
Here again
Still asking
How that could happen
However

No longer is my spirit broken

My life still filled with
Those memories

Though for a while
All they did was
Hinder me

Time and healing
Worked wonders

And I have been free

Today
Created moments
I can call my own
And mine alone.

As I peek at that past
Living
In the here and now
I am stoked for
What is coming up

Perhaps
A decade in the making

But maybe God wanted me thinking

My eyes have matured
But being a child at heart
Will forever be my nature.

It is how I am
When I am here
It is what I hum
When I grab the music
It is who I struggle to be
Someone completely free
The one I always imagined
I could be
In a dream
And in reality

The city reads
My thoughts
What I desire
And what I fought

Here is Berlin
The one and unique
Where I can write
My uncut story.

As I lay beside you
Already sound asleep;
Press my hand against your back
I can feel every heartbeat.

Had been longing so long;
I have finally made it home
Somewhere my head is at ease
In your house, all is quiet and calm.

I have heard the noises of the world
Lucky to see countries I did not even dream of;
Each leaving an indelible print,
God blessed me with more than I deserve.


For this reason alone, I never forget
The place where the journey began
I am one that will follow the sun
But wherever I go, I remember where I am from.

I make it a point to return to you;
And what I learn in our time apart
Means the world only once I am back,
For home to me will always be your heart.

I am a tourist in my own life
Everything I am feeling
Is foreign land
I cannot quite recognize
This impasse
Is it really I --
I am a tourist in my own life

Should I not know by now
What I am capable of
What song I am supposed
To play
When I am having more
Than two bad days

Who is this person
Staring back at me
Here I am contemplating
And she is not crying
It is not I, it is not I
I am a tourist in my own life

What am I supposed to learn
When the one teaching a lesson
Is the one concerned
I become
Unknown territory to explore
With old wounds and sorrows
And now a new state of postwar
It is I, it is I
That has to reach out
To stop being
A tourist in my own life.

Now is
Not the time
Nor the place
To feel
What I buried
Come back
To the surface
Months spent
Coping
And perhaps I am
Avoiding
But what I
Endure
What am I
To do
When I face
The past
In the present
Here I am
Going on
Trying to
Make sense
Of what was
In the  end
Solely
A coincidence.