the first time we touched in the rain you slipped away
because my fingers were slick with the water falling fro
m somewhere above our heads. the youth we had was
unreal due to the cigarettes we smoked and the late nig
hts we spent together as if we didn't have a bed time. w
hy don't we touch anymore? why have our meetings b
ecome so s p a c e d o u t ? you left me in the rain, in a pu
ddle of the tears we cried together, in a river of sweat we
poured, in a monsoon of memories that we made. I was
indeed your only love child, your only youthful anchor,
so now you have grown old and I can no longer see you.

I am the eccentric lovechild of a mother frondescent and a father evanescent
Sprouted through corrupted soul
Fed from the fish delivered free from a sea of blood and oil
Uprooted I drift in sunlight towards an amiable oasis nurtured by scribes
Roots form synthesis with a surface void of story
My blooms entail alternative motions ranging from the aspect of a chaotic notion and the transcendent shiver given with ceremonial moments
Traces of my lingering expanse traverse and terraform galactic sound gardens bursting at the seams with Gaia’s seeds
Wither, decay, destined to resume once in full bloom
Meandering with solar rays bonded by ebb and flow
The remnants of the last sun ray plague the wanderer who was born of sunflowers

it's an all too familiar, all too ironic situation —
knowing safety, softness —
lingering tastes off darkness' tongue,
now trailing down our skin.

the dark has taught us that
safezone is having the night skies
perched around us
and the moon rises from every touch, slipping,
from every kiss, ending;

and yet, how can something so dim, so obscure
remind me of the sun and its clarity?
darling, these rendezvous have taught me that
you are the lovechild of the night and the day
and i am likened to a vampire
whose fatal flaw is its
longing for the sun.

oh, to see you,
touch you,
kiss you

in the daylight

without burning.
without hiding.
without fears and pretenses.




and yet, we can only be in this all too familiar, all too ironic situation;
we can only be, in the safety of the nightfall —
we can only be, darling, in safety of the dark.

When did you start waiting for shooting stars to dance in the skies? When did you start bending down and let your wish fall upon a six-petal ixora? When did you start hoping for four-leaf clovers in the fields? When did you start whispering your secret dreams to yourself before blowing the birthday candles? When did you start tossing pennies on wishing wells? When did you start muttering you heart's desire on fallen eyelashes? When did you start staying up late to wait for 11:11 to come?

When did you start believing in the magic they bring?


When did you stop?

Lucid in a lush landscape, baked by burning Savanna sun
The undeveloped endlessness all encompassing
My feet sink into the tender tissue
Of Green Mother and Infinite Father’s lovechild
The watering hole is overpopulated with thirsty families
Suspiciously inspecting the albino primate
I make undeterred deliberate steps skirting hydration
Drawn to his penetrating and omniscient orbs
A genuflect to show respect, my head bowed and gaze on ground
The mighty titan mimicked me and extended peaceful welcome
Gradually I rose and full-figured, approached
Warily, minding his twin osteoscimitars
Hello friend, he said
I heard you coming from several years away
I have been waiting for you
In a thousand forms and figures as the shadowy shapes you doubted
But Wisdom, how?
Baffled now, as I follow worn creases of age
That line his cracked and withered face and date his hardened hide
Come see yourself as I see you, he said
For we are as old as your mind is young
And he led me to the liquid, still and reflective
My own visage now ancient
You often sought me out, and I never hid
But I always came too late
I am with you in every action
Every success and every mistake
I was your hand when you learned to hold on
And your ears when you learned to listen
I was your adrenaline when you lost control
And your uncut blood tunnels when you learned to live
I was your arms when you hugged a forgiving embrace
And the nausea you felt when you lied
I did not mourn you when you died and scattered
For you returned to me as many; come, we have much to teach and learn
We will raise the bulls of a generation
Without another word, I mounted sacred pachyderm
And we became a vortex for wandering energy universal and fluid
The venerable sage and I rode as equals through the night
The savanna sky resting its tired eye at last

this poem is a lovechild
of my weary skin
and the sensual creeping of an all-consuming melancholia;

my voice, hoarse
from calling for the gods
whose names all fall away
at the sight of my undoing —
besides, who falls apart
at ungodly hours
but sinners?

why hast thou forsaken me —
there no longer is a need for this
when they had all forgotten your name
hours before the daybreak.

and yet everyday, i still wake,
waiting for this bed to collapse
under the weight of my hollow bones, holding
the weight of the frailest chaos
to ever befall these sorry sheets —
i thirst,
for a new kind of skin, unstained,
untouched —
wide enough
to hold all this weight of sadness
lying in these sorry sheets.

i've wanted too many epitaphs for a girl who's still alive;
today it's started wanting me back.

now, i tire,
wrap the cloth around my skin:
all ashen, all stench,
all cold, all dead.

now take this poem.
take this lovechild in your arms —
all brown eyes and little hands;
half melancholia;
barely a girl.

now take this body;
take its peace.
bury it in a pauper's field.

You are a Lovechild
You like to feel your Midnights rise
If we could bottle your arrival we would
We know how to mark a good hide
That's just the way the Market goes
People like to sing. Eyes closed.
Tell us what you came for.

Since you're a woman,
You and I will have the Blues.
If we're throwing our secrets in a fire
Then what is there left to lose?
Its not everyday that Lady Luck gives smiles
Since that's the case,
we'll be here for a while.

I want to light a fire unto your crown,
So you can light the way into the shroud.
How am I supposed to see
Beyond my cigarette?
They call the place I live the Lost and Found.
I want to feel your Touch when you're around.
How about the dark,
A place to put your lights on?

Come tomorrow, not just anyone will do.
But you lie to yourself about the Promise.
Hoping it comes true.
Even cat callers agree its not the best.
Since the lights are out whose Patience will you test?

They call them Lucky Strikes,
But I still feel the same.
There were so many words
I desperately needed to change.
This is the story of how I opened up my arms
And built a Lighthouse on the rocks
Where everyone belongs.

So come one. Come all.
Come one. Come all.
Come one. Come all.

I mad. I'm in love.
When you faint,
I'm the glove
That will hold you.
Until the Nightmares give you up.

I.

Her every word
An explosion of emotions
Every shrapnel hits my heart precisely
I'm clutching my chest
As I try to chase my breath

II.

I'd say this is the best way to die
But then her lips curve
Into a lovely arc
And I'm rejuvenated back to life

III.

She's a ramshackle bridge
Connecting life and death
I'm walking back and forth to memorize her
From evident to infinitesimal details

IV.

The universe has its secrets
Some of them long for acknowledgement
So maybe that's why
I have fallen in love
With life and death's lovechild

V.

She embodies efflorescing life
By being the rain of polychromatic colors
The grinning sun, the efflorescing flowers
And the jaunty waves of the sea

VI.

She portrays death
By being the blinding darkness
The excruciating agony, the final  breath
And the last fluttering of the eyes

VII.

Her kisses plant seeds of life
On the damp earth of my soul's garden
Nurturing the sprouting flowers
With gentle caresses and sweet words
Into its full bloom

VIII.

Her gazes are a coercive death ride
Her brown orbs stealing the oxygen
Meant to fill my lungs
Halting its invasion in my depths
My heart becoming unable to beat

IX.

I can describe her relentlessly
Until stars shine in admiration of her
But she speaks again
Another parade of explosions commences
Still aimed directly towards my chest

loss makes

no sound...

as the digits

of its lovechild

wriggle.