We are a tuning fork let
Tingle, spewing off in crests
Of interference,
Concentric circles met
Mingle, in rippled patterns; lest

We sink our pebble cupped hands,
Tiny polished eggs spackled
With inference,
And us, but mere cosmic sand
And gravity’s weak shackle

My wrist to beddings iron frame,
As the evening chirps quiet; chisel
Through indifference,
My marble block, blown by flame
Reduced to dust and grainy gristle

Dear Father
Just because I am a girl doesn't mean I'm not human like you
I am and special, maybe more special than you
so first stop calling me names because I'm subject to my emotions
first work and buy me the necessities, the sanitary pads
before arguments about whether I smell during my periods spring
first change the system,that which promotes my rights bring
first abandon alcohol for it's the reason for the violence and fights
first realise that I am my own person with my own dreams
for we all can't be doctors, we all can't be engineers,
we all can't flow with the streams
first realise I hope to be first female President of this pearl
first recognise that time and again my hair may need a little curl
first remind my Aunt to give me the *** education
after all educating me is educating a nation
first treat mother like a human and not a slave
first think like a man and act like a woman rather than a tsunami wave
first mind about how I'm relating with my school teacher
because now is the bridge that leads to my long awaited future
first help sort out the political climate, it is too hot
Help the country be what it should be instead of expecting me to be who I'm not
first tell the insurgents and the government to put down arms
for it seems they cannot see how terribly this war thing harms
they can't see I'm ***** and bearing sceptic wounds which may never scar
first tell the fat belly friend of yours that
when I'm through with my studies I'll afford my own car
first urge the concerned to put up good schools near
so that I won't have to ride this far in the dark filled with fear
first engage in advising my school to provide us with meals
it will mean you finally understand that hunger kills
first work your fingers to the bone, don't leave it for mother alone
to provide the privilege of waking to comfortable beddings at dawn
first start believing in me as you believe in my brothers
rather than wallow in the mistakes of the forefathers
first understand me before you start pointing fingers
first get me a treated mosquito net and shoes to escape the jiggers
first do your part and I promise I will do mine
first be a father & friend then, I know everything will be fine

Evening comes early just with swiftness
Not minding to know what has to come first,
Whether going to bed first before eating supper,
Or eating supper before going to bed,
A hard question I have failed to solve
Before the glowing presence of my children,
There is utterly nothing to eat in my house
From east to west, south to north of my abode
No trace of anything worth the name victual,
No energy is there in my mandibular muscles
To tell my wife and children retire to beds,
I surrender to time to be the judge of the time
As I have exhausted my borrowing avenues,
Relatives and friends are willing to discard
Any tincture of association with myself,
Because I have wryly borrowed from all of them
Down the level of naming me Dr. lend me flour,
When dawn comes forth am scared to hysteria,
as I decry one more day to hustle for food
evening comes also in a similar gear to me
it only sets in roosting on the empty stomach
time to go  on my old beddings ,forlorn to pangs of hunger.

Edward Hopper Painting


Badly lit street, through a partly steamed up
café window I can see an Edward Hopper
a man dressed in a brown suit and hat which
he keeps on while eating fries and drinking
black coffee, trying to slow down time.

Wears his underwear too long, doesn’t
change beddings for months, his depressing
rooms are unaired and a smell of loneliness;
middle aged and divorced he just exists, and
has a loser’s look of unspoken despair.

The truth,
The lies,
The pleasure,
And love,
All things that when told,
Still have a time when it hurts...

You come at the best of times,
And the hardest part is when I cannot cry,
You leave me here to lie between,
Beddings and sheets,
And as much as one cares to weep,
You instill this repercussion of my sanity,
Leaving a shut down,
Like when a computer... shuts down,
However it's crazy right?
How the shut down leads to a standby,
But when you're dealing with two parts,
It is not the machine no,
But merely the display,
As it, replays a signal,
That there is no signal,
There is nothing feeding the monitor,
There is no rest for the screen,
Always on,
Slowly.... dying,

As soon as it activates,
It is consuming,
Consuming the complex knowledge,
Energy,
And memory,
Of what is,
Was,
or will be,
And what became,
To create the distinction and difference between man and machine,
Is the stand,
And the costume,

As I stand here,
Staring at what is merely the imaginative reality,
The one I've always talked,
Dreamed,
Discussed...
What is the truth,
The lie,
When I love,
Hate the feeling,
I told myself,

When you are on the other side...
Does it still hurt?

Behold the lamb of God is born this day!
In a manger warm with beddings of hay.
Where beasts inhabit and drop their waste,
fit for none else but those of lowly caste.

Behold the infant Lord whose lowly birth
was marked by celestials in joy and mirth.
In an orchestra in the distant sky,
they played the first carol right there on high.

Skirmish

                            It turns so fast
from happiness to sadness,
yesterday
was a warm spring day,
then without warning
Cold.
Winter beddings
packed away
we fought
over a blanket
I lost
she is blaming illness.
Today is miserable
a clumsy time
doesn't know whether
to cry or shine.
No internet
that's a ****** shame.