What if this whole thing is somebody's virtual reality
Ecstatic images repeatedly scanning the screen -saver of creation
And we are just Artificial Intelligence
Vainly imagining ourselves to be real in his make- belief world

And there is this little boy.
Every time she rises to leave
Beams his sweetest smile
And tugs at her sleeve
Pulls out treasures from his pockets
A white mouse
A shiny piece of tin
Funny stones that hold light
From all the gardens he's been
He holds them out in his tiny hands
All for her to take
She can't but relent to stay back
Just for his sake


The pen is mine
The words are all yours

Untie me from your placental knot
Let me exhale on my own
There is this breathless need
to listen to silences that are truly quiet
not the turbulent duet of our souls

Do not touch my  nightmares
Uncage me from the flame of your spine
I'll toddle through my darkness
chasing conception like a floating embryo  
A budding artist of our acrylic
dirtying  your walls with my  broken crayons

You know I'll be back again
wrapping up miles of  misty oceans
Like a migratory metaphor
having learnt my first alphabets
written in chalks of fire
and loving you more than ever before.

They took the work gloves away.
After months of grueling grind
creased , ripped and filthy, he was.
Was begining to rain
when they put him in to wash.
I remember the umbrella
standing alone in the corner
He listened patiently
to his buddy swim and hum and strum
He listened to him tumble and spin
cleaning his soul thick and thin
Soon, they'd go away for a stroll
in the drizzling mountain mist.
He trusted and hoped
to  shelter
his dear friend
with his warmth once more


How do we define
When we are still unsure about everything

I remember the day I died
Everything was nothing
And Nothing was everything.
Suddenly, I was leaving all this behind
Wanting to hug you one last time
To tell you gently
that I would have to go.

I remember the day I died
the stifled grief
of my mother's ripped heart
hushed silences of friends
Of being brought home one last time
to heady incense
deodorizing the smell of death
to look at my empty bed
beside the stained narrow window

I remember the day I died
being carried to the hearse
in the fading dusk
Feeling the flowers and wreaths they lovingly heaped
on my empty frame
that I would soon leave behind
when I turned the last bend
I saw the struggle in your eyes
trying not to say goodbye

I remember the day I died
I was cleaned and dressed
for a new journey ahead, knowing
and believing I'd see you again
I walked through the cleansing flames of the exit gate
swiping my journey's end
with the one-way ticket
earned years back
in my mother's womb.

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