"thamel" poems
somewhere in corner
Like roses waiting for dew
I wait for your warmth
Soaked in rain
Your memories run down my spine
(Morning Nostalgia)
Pashupatinath temple
The rain drops on the golden roof
the mountain breeze to pacify my soul
The life can be beautiful
When serenity surrounds to bind us
(Afternoon Divinity)
Thamel
Crying strings, the music of life
White smoke in air
The sound of cheers
Wish the time stopped here
(Evening Bliss)
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 2:12 PM UTC
On the highway
They’re sitting down and rolling joints
Contemplating
If it was freedom
When she pierced the muscles
Struggling beneath her frail bones.
They all draw wings on the wall behind the road and
Some say about her rings,
That in a corner in Thamel
Scientific instruments in a white room replicate force
(And it doesn’t hurt so much anymore)
On the highway
The times before rolling joints
She rubbed elbows.
***** in the mud like a pig.
But the tourists still took pictures of her snout, and called it
“Cute.”
When that mother came into her room
She was sleeping with a pout on her face.
Until the highway men drawing wings on the high wall
“Woke” her up.
(The first day, she thought she was still rubbing elbows)
Until the marks came on hers and bled
But not on the other side as well.
Almost simultaneously with the gypsy’s work Aureliano had been reading
On wires metamorphosis-ed into the air
(Brought the world to her feet, or the other way round)
And she knew it must have been a high because
The ground was cold.
And all above she saw the skies cheat
Right before they pressed in on your lungs
Leaking smoke
(When you thought you were made of blood)
Yet before, in your head you’ve smashed the universe
And eaten its brains for lunch – they are green.
Before it gulped her down
In a go.
So you know
How drawing wings on the wall
Has gotten no one nowhere except
Talking about that girl
Who pierced the skin under her bones
In Thamel.
Storm
5.14.014
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 4:01 AM UTC