I dwell on thoughts,
I examine the sum of my experiences,
Sometimes, I spit out extreme emotions.
I search in vain for something common.
I observe the struggles of all conscious beings,
looking for a universal language
that unites rather than divides.
I know…
I won't be able to ...
I won't find...

Has everything already been said or written?
Fortunately, the sun is still there,
watching over me.
Its light always finds its way
to attract my soul like a magnet
calming gently
agitated states of consciousness…

i feel your absence  
like white lilies wilting  
in a forgotten vase  
unbrushed hair  
tangled in yesterday’s dreams  

names slip away  
like whispers in the wind  
each memory  
a fragile thread  
unraveling  

mother of the holy hands  
do you feel her touch  
in the spaces between us?  
trees whisper secrets  
the air thick with  
what once was  

unsure hands  
questioning eyes  
searching for answers  
in the echoes of silence  
where are your children?  

once greetings  
now good-byes  
water-soaked  
in a white cotton nightdress  
the fabric of our lives  
fraying at the edges  

yet we hold on  
to the flicker of warmth  
the pulse of love  
navigating this maze together  
finding our way home  
even in the dark

give me back my blood and
i will give you yours.
i am crying into tomatoes
i am scrying with wheat flour
and there isn't enough black
pepper in the deccan plateau
to satiate my flaming roots.

i have just received a message from
the yavana tribe of iron india, and
they sent it through a slow red
river warm and creamy. do you care
to know what they said? of
course don't, you never have, and of

course i will insist to tell you. "he sinks you,
he covers you, he stifles the breath
of your core." they are ionians and
thus they understand the pain and peril
of drowning.

goodmorning
the **** convinced me
not to move the black bracers-
killer whales wanting to dance
but i stuff them with threads,
knots of ebony and fishnets,
so they hang over my body
at night during my journeys.
are they looking after me or
are they after that red bead
in my center?

burning woodsmoke now, patchouli
melt creamy- as venus sways one
hip from the fire pits of aries
she ends up on the other side:
the dirt finger grove of the steady
bull chanting "hold and touch and stay."

goodmorning
when has the sun glided his way,
as if upon the hips of a sea nymph,
across miles and angles of what
was a dark night?

keep your water, i am weaving.
i am breathing every taste of it
i am touching infinitely that center,
so sought after, like the walls of palaces
when tongue touches lip
i am rubbing every color through me
i am watching your scent drizzle gently
all over my pools of skin.

tend me like the earth, goodmorning
string me like the grape vines bursting forth from soil.

I am no different than those who've abandoned me,
I am no different than those who've hurt me.
Yes, I know, it has become repetitive.
I understand why I spent so much in avoiding this silence.

I am no victim, no exception,
For that reason, I want to keep my life.
I'll probably carry this grief wherever I go.
So old now, it's covered in mold.
I wash it off but it regrows.

It's the same thing, again and again.
I never mean the same to you,
And vice versa,
In a perpetual state of loss,
A cycle of death reminding me of itself.
This familiar silence, a memento,
It may never let me go.

You spent your life fighting for freedom,
You became liberated from life
Oh martyr.
People, enslaved by their delusions
Enslaved you,
none were wiser.

Tell me,
If the hearts that beat are the same,
If the lungs that breathe are
Capable of uttering the Name,
Could such evil come from me?

The devil doesn't answer once he is called to question.
The devil instead burrows your face,
And wears a copy of your skin,
And utters your words back to you.

Oh martyr,
You may have been but a child,
A woman, a fighting man,
An elder,
Maybe you had died offering a helping hand,
A mother, a father.
We grieve over the loss
Of our sister, our brother.
With each light that is cut off
The world grows darker and darker.
Robbed from your care and your love
It gets so much colder.
And the rest of us are left
Under the glaring shadow of imminent death
Because the war never ends
Until every pure soul draws its last breath.

Home is heaven,
The children of Adam are displaced.
Some of heaven's diaspora
Are still swooned by Satan's whisper.
What a shame.