Dusted with gold, colours wheeling,
Threads reaching into a sun,
Precious handwoven rugs from Mumbai,
Individual, divine, only one.

A foreigner orders a carpet.

So a carpet graces the road.

On a throne made of barrows and money,
But a hand stops the vivid-hued load.

Covered in dust, wrinkles stealing
Irreplaceable youth from his bones,
Worthless mendicant soul in Mumbai,
Stretches out towards hope with a moan.

A dollar could take him to life,
As his cup stretches out for some bread,
Yet, the cloth priced more highly than life,
Trundles past, and it leaves him for dead.

The ship chugs through horizons,
With its costly woven load,
Whilst a bag of bones expires,
In the dust, beside a road.

Now all of emotion-
seem to be off duty
Sick of onward motion;
and things not set in motion
I'm growing cold; and frozen
so void of my apparent motion
                       But stay on duty.

Put myself on promotion;
free of living in Death's duty
Putting my self will in a glove;
then going on grips in self-love
Its handwoven, and interwoven
                        Worthen of a ruby.

With abreast of pride on chest;
all of my heart has know cruelty
But I learnt how to see beauty,
and tying closely to it's devotion
                            With faith in me.



Some of which, stressful days
will move best in slow motion;
Best of times go in a moment,
so I've come to the conclusion,
                      I'm just an Ocean.

i'm checkmate the bomb
i always make things a gas girl
i'm ubiquitous and unavoidable
i'm a social engineer,
making things happen for good time girls
i'm the promo man
i advertise curvaceous wares
and multiply the client base
i'm hoping to go exponential soon
I'm a moneyfinder par excellence
i can sniff it from miles away
and i know how to make a fool and his money
go separate ways
as for the miserly ones, we prise it away so adeptly
they can't help applauding us
the rich and affluent ones looking for an experience -
we cater for them as well
they're easy to spot from miles away
that bored vacuous look is hard to miss
i'm a connoisseur of bohemian girls:
the ones who play sweet and innocent to perection
their jumping eyes can send even you into a rhapsodic spin!
the leggy ones with shape and hips
delectable girls with unbelievable curves
the slim portable women that some want to take away
mmmm... and the buxom ones with bountiful chests of sweetness
i can supply extras too! just name it and i'm your man
i'm the paymaster and the insurance man to book
i'm security too, my boys don't brook any nonsense - be warned!
and hey man, do i have style! tailor-made suits, gold-capped teeth,
handmade shoes and handwoven ties to complete the rout
my principles are strict and regular; no sampling of the stock
although...
if it's sylvie i sometimes make an exception
sylvie knows how to rock and how to roll
she's what every man hopes to find during his prime*
now don't you dare go all weepy and disapproving on me mate,
it's not personal - just business!

hello,
right now i have renovated this hello poem,
a hefty amount of times,
with the hearty intent,
to get this hellish hunk of hello poem of my heavy tongue.

hello,
hardly have i crafted a poem,
i have instead handwoven a handy distraction from the whole point.

hello,
all of the half-decent "h" sounding alliteration words have horribly,
been wasted on his half-assed poem.
having ruined the word 'hello' and any horrid word with similarities,
in the phonetics or what have you,
i end this poem here.
and i end this hallowed hell of this poem in high regards to you.

Flushed aromas of seasonal rebirth,
hues coalesce within portraits woven
of motions colliding seeding the earth.
silk petals delicately handwoven.

Brushstrokes of nature weaving on daylight,
dewdrops lingering like teardrops on leaves.
Bees collecting nectar, resting from flight,
life flourishing, nature gracefully weaves.

Tame winds caressing elegant blossom
as tears of colour descend upon height.
Blankets of hues saturate emblossom
resembling cloud pictures, sketches re-create.

Surrounded by fallen tears, natures allure
caressing landscapes, spring delicately pure..

Wretched
The stains of red seep deeper
And deeper within my soul
Befitting that it would come to this
As my colors erode
And my heaven explodes

Terrified
Balancing on a highwire
Raised ever higher
Westerly winds and a scarecrow's smile
Cause a bleach to rain
And lovesick ignorance to feign

Granted
Take me there and leave
Every splotch of innocence
Shrouds me in handwoven temptations
Save me from all their comfortable lies
Save me from becoming a dead man's prize

You're afraid of the fire
every time you see it
every time you put your hand out to the fire you pull it away
you pull your fridged hands back inside the handwoven pocket
are you afraid shes different?
why are you afraid of the fire?
why are you afraid of getting burned?
i put my hand gently in her hair
I kiss her soft lips
the fire.... the fire doesn't burn
it feels warm against my umber skin
I don't feel cold in the fire
why are you afraid of the fire?
the fire shares the same oak as us
I love the fire on my skin