Gone to bed.
It is three days
Since you have
Combed your hair.
It is a week
Since you had a bath.
And six weeks
Since your dog had hers.
It is three months
Since you popped
The baby pink multi-vitamins.
It is half a year
Since you met your only best friend.
Woe to your scraggyscornfullistless world
Where the moonlit sky exists only in the grand
Lullabies that one of your grandmothers sang.
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For an affair:
Carries a civil war in his eyes, travels a lotAnd speaks up when you are subjectedTo society’s customary stone-throwing—This hero has a history of scandals.He keeps secrets like slave-girls.Trust this man to never let you down,Or stand you up, even if it involvesRising from the dead. Amen.For marriage:Trust a man only after you have dunkedHis…
Morning Song
And dusty greyThe sky begins to blush.Some sleepy careless charm welcomesDaybreak.Even SongAzureAnd pink gold huesThe smug sky at twilightA final flush of fulfilmentNight falls.
Fifteen, lost in a room
For an approaching exam. In a nasal bassTthe teacher speaks of some besotted birdThat watches the moon every moment of the night…I stand up and ask,What does that bird do on new moon nights?Peeved by what she thinks is impudence,The teacher says the bird watches my face.The class turns all at once, stares at me.Ashamed,…
It is uniquely easy
Ideals becauseBusiness of absentGoods is essentiallyA sacrosanct but mostlyA flimsy transaction.Some learn, early on,To prostitute their verse.So, in all the waking hoursThey scavenge for a simple simileThat matches requirements, fulfills needs.They barter realityAnd every romanceTo a blurred triplicateCarbon-copy World of HardCash and Price Tags and Brand Names.In this brothelOf stilled hope andStagnated stories, poemsAre born…
Everyone speaks of him.
they gush about the powerof his words his flourishesof rhetoric his direct approachhis raw reproach his felicity inferocious Tamil his three hours inthe sweltering heat rousingangry young man rally speechesthat make men out of mice andmarauding wildcats out of menfiery speeches that subvert andoverturn and unseat and revoltspontaneous speeches that unsettlestates and strongmen and sinistersystems…
(written after reading Sylvia Plath’s Daddy)
believe that such a one as this walkedthe earth in flesh and blood.’—Albert EinsteinWho? Who? Who?Mahatma. Sorry no.Truth. Non-violence.Stop it. Enough taboo.That trash is long overdue.You need a thorough review.Your tax-free salt stimulated our woundsWe gonna sue you, the Congress shoe.Gone half-cuckoo, you called us names,You dubbed us pariahs—’Harijans’goody-goody guys of a bigot godRam Ram…
Gone to bed.
It is three days
Since you have
Combed your hair.
It is a week
Since you had a bath.
And six weeks
Since your dog had hers.
It is three months
Since you popped
The baby pink multi-vitamins.
It is half a year
Since you met your only best friend.
Woe to your scraggyscornfullistless world
Where the moonlit sky exists only in the grand
Lullabies that one of your grandmothers sang.
(First published in Sweet Magazine, South Africa)
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My school bud, he work hard.
He grow dam rich.He go to da temple, wherehis po’ ol’ folks ain’t allowed.He buy incense for two bucksflowers for five, kinda shaggycoconut for ten bucks.He also buy a standing placeat da front and da special prayerin his name all at twenty more.Priest with ash and holy smokecome to him, give extra blesses fora cool…
And I got your words
I will have them paintedTonight.Try to chooseOr take them all.Glitter on innocentRaspberry lips that pleadFor touch, for closerCommunion.Composition in coffeeCream blending with bitterChocolate worn on businessDays.Ravenous red, for fieryAnimals in us, tamed,By love in dyingLanguages.Colourless words, invisibleBut everywhere—LoveReserved for needyNights.Love, remember the rainAnd our fading wordsOn lonely nightsDrenching—Drizzling—Straying to a steadyChatter or studiedSilence.Remember ourWhispered intimaciesWhich…
Scorned, she sought refuge in spirituality,
with saffron clothes and caramel words.Years later, her husband won her backbut by then, she was adept at walkouts,she had perfected the vanishing act.
And I got your words
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You entered my life when I was twelve. I really didn’t
science, of space, and the small small atoms that we wereall made up of. I wanted to be a spy or a scientist. Ithought you would help me become one.You made me fall in love. With you. And unknown tomy parents, with language.I started to write. But that is another story.I loved you too much….