downhill slopes and uphill climbs
shaggy hair flying down
                         exhausted breaths
                grinning mouths
tired limbs
                            shivering skin
comforted hearts
green eyes

Upon the cardamom hills, mountain goats,
ace acrobats, above the high rocks gaily prance,
I fell in love with the coy mountain mist, silvery dense
transforming each second, her wizardry in display,
her white cloak was spread above green tea gardens.

she sprung down in a hurry to meet me, excited
how soothing is her soft caresses, impassioned kiss
from the does she has learned a lot I can very well gather,
the fear and the flight to keep danger at arm's length,

purple sun, was curiously peeping down from the hills,
mountain mist pulling spicy cardamom scent around her
whispered to me, "Don't tell any one I am here
before cruel sun chases me out of the hills, let me
hide and play with the little ones of mountain goats
in the cardamom valley where he can never reach"

fingers- i landed my boat here, when i first met you. your fingers twirled together absentmindedly and they still do and i'm still get lost whenever i wander onto the dark beaches.
hands- i discovered these peninsulas when you pulled me along on your adventures after I landed on the beaches and they were so rough yet so wonderful and i honestly want to get lost here more often.
wrists- i found these a bit more on the mainland, still flanked by water and they were so narrow that i was afraid i would fall off into the water and i wonder how those thick colorful bracelets stay on.
cheeks- one day i wanted to go on a hike so i decided to climb up these steep mountains and whenever something beautiful sailed by you these beautiful red begonias popped up and i'm a little upset that i didn't make them pop up but i'm glad they didn't bloom around me because i got to see the natural red hills and i got to love them.

but i made a mistake because i never went south and maybe i would have gotten lost somewhere else more beautiful but if i went south, i wouldn't have found the beautiful pools that some call your eyes and that would've been the real loss.

Cinnamon peppers
the rooftops in December
and the shattered
whispers over the hills.

It makes you sneeze
and your fingers
freeze
which causes
evermore solace
with the warming fumes
of myrrh.

The bubbles
which circle the edge
of your tea, darling,
pop on your nose
as the steam rises

we sit in rose,
while outside
the horizon is smudged
with ash, and coal
and dirt.

When I started to learn Murisha1
You are in the step of Mattla2
You tell me that,
“Take up Makkaut3 and
Go for Bip'ba4” otherwise
“Their Jab'ba- gibir5Job'basha6  will come and
take you to their Job'ba7!”
I replied, “If I engage in Makkaut,
The jingle will mislay!”
You just giggle and
Said “Beersalang8” !
Now after the squall
Everything is vivid and emerald
The melody of Murisha
Strike on Borail
and thinning out to the entire Raji9!
The wave of music sometime drive away your Ri’kro10
And your chortle flows through Diyung to the valley! ■■■

When it rained, I was walking
I was walking.........
A hill, and up a red mountain
Upon asking
direction of an
Old man, who stood
strangely shouting,
At haggard old cattle
with oddly human faces
For the life of me
Pouting....................

I learned, when it rained
On my own journey home
Through the unwise
Old man's country
Is that its your
own life
thats owned
By things you invest in
So claim a strong interest
in clearing yourself of them.

Made for the making
you are, for yourself
not for some other.
Do not bleed for
Another, who throws
Your dreams to the wind.

Im held by my feelings
In aspic, and nitre
a tired shepard
Of wayward thought/sheep
That wander on hills
that I have invented
In  mind's eye
and blurred rainy sleep.

But the rain you create will
Drown you, if careful
You allow yourself
Open to downpour
Of thought/water,
that you've
Created from
rivers of
clocks and alarms
that run
Ever over
Rocks of experience
you crash into
When safe from all harm.....

As years pass
They grow
More jagged
Hazard stones
And dangerous
The grow
On your soul.

And in the knowing
It's your life
You are saving........
So be grateful
for ageing
it's useful
To know
When to stop
At the whole.

Is there time in
a grain, to be thought
as a quantum
of realness or
real, and realness can be
when our world is of quanta-
reality-grit
how is the thought/world
revealed?

Are we our senses
Like fruit we have
peeled? Who watches us
Close by from inside?
As thoughts get revealed.
Is he as close as
your necked vein?
As they say in some places?
These questions are hard
And they pose harder
Answers.  

So  consider
yourself, take courage
In living
For the void is a terror
Yet we all live
Within it
Infinite, unchanging

I'm scared for possible
futures
Running from
fixed pasts
Chasing hazed out rainbows
That long I have clung to,
How long can it possibly last?
I have dug many holes
Will I find one at last?

I don't know, but I do,
But telling is hard
For in telling truth
you must be
Honest
And honesty is a slippery
Concept, is it not?

When it rained, I was walking
I was walking
A hill, and red mountain
Upon asking
direction of a
Mad man,
stood shouting
At the cattle with faces
For the life of me.....
......................
Pouting

That man was me
No longer the stranger
My hills I have
Crossed, and knowing
The danger
Warn passers
That their paths
Can be crossed
When it rains.

What am I to do
when the dog
has no
day?

Where am I to go
when the hills
are too far
away?

Who shall I seek
when good has gone,
and so has
evil?

I'm just really no good
at this game
called
people.

you're like lavender hills
and tropical skies
the words between my lips
and the warmth between my thighs