A Dance to Remember



I could tell you a thousand things

And yet feel a pregnant silence.

Singled and paralysed by

Acid down throat

Red blood, Red blood

The chalice screamed.

I know not why I am waiting here

You are not going to come

Nor will I.

The stories I have to tell

Go out through my ears and


In me we have met the end.

This house is one of lies

But on fire

Lets burn these mirages

Until we tire

No more nothings of the past

No more everything of today

Come, come

Dance with me

In a trance

To forget all that

Remained, remains and will remain.




The Restitution of Love





A flower in my own garden

Of living,

A bud

Shy to open up

To what could be called her


Nurturing for myself

From my withins

Roots and leaves

All within,


Am ravishing when in the fields.

Left alone, ungazed and untouched

Amidst all the other

Unknown glory.


You want to see me

Closer to you then,


stroke, touch and feel my scent

In your innards

And when,

i am in your hands

Satiating your senses,

Crushed in the harmony of

Your pulp

I become ‘old and dry and cold and wry’.


Once a God but now

A forgotten one,

I lie in the mud

Drenched and soaked

In tears from some heaven.




Maybe someday

Someone will know

What love is to be.


To let them bloom in their fields,

Their glory

Never to be held

But only to be


Just as the

Air we breathe.




Everyday I wait…




I sat in a corner

Waiting for you to return,

Every whiff of wind

Carrying your abandoned laughter,

Your dreamy haze, your green silk gaze.


I felt like a tree in January

Deserted and lifeless

Waiting for the sunshine in the cold,

To make me look timeless.

And there you came

And just like the winter sunshine,

You beamed at me

For a passing infinite moment

And then joined the other shadows

Of simple clouds,

Whilst I sat in the dark

Small and alone and pining

But strong.

For my sun to smile at me

From behind those large large clouds.





In abject silence, what to think of.


The quietness of a ticking clock?

The loneliness of a bird

Perched on an empty branch?

The ember in a dying restless soul

That wants to dance…

The ageing sun

That will someday sink

Into the sky

Blueink to black.


But today we shall smile

And sleep

As long as our earth goes round

And our time goes right.

The Third Ghost



My house is empty. It feels drunk in dark. Massive mischief of interplays. Between memories of what has been and not. And is going on. Somewhere a light shines. Oh it is the neighbours lights. Why are they in? And why do I feel out?

My space is here but I feel not. Not lost but not to belong. The floor is cold. Cold and shaky. Or are they just my feet with no ground beneath. I try soothing myself with a lullaby. The one I used to sing to a son I once had. A shadow lurks besides me. I shiver with no cloak to hide in. Is it my own or that of my ghost’s?

Tomorrow will be another day. Where normal happy people will try to call it a day.

Where will my ghost wander off to? In rest or not. It will still enter that home, that I once had. Into which I once let sunshine in and soaked flowers. Now, nobody knows I am hungry here, for what not.

And then I will look at everybody. They will all be happy without me. Well at least they are. Because the lights were not from the neighbours but that of celebration at mine. Only I thought I bought the light.



This bunch of green, to me is the most idealistic of living beings. The epitome of perfection. The symbol of what beauty should be made to be.

It chose to befriend a pile of gray, cracking, cold rocks,to live in symbiosis and harmony, to provide its own minimalistic yet profound happiness to the beholder’s eyes.

Isn’t that how humans are supposed to be? Realise the potential of a cracking soul, adopt it, nurture it and show the rest of the world what can come of the most downtrodden of men. Or women. Or a child. And when we tune on that nerve of compassion in us, we bring into being an ideal world. Quite a Utopic concept, but only if we thought about what is happening around us with a wider “opened eyes”, will we understand, that it is not easy for anyone. The king amongst us, would be an insomniac worrying about his fading charm, the swan amongst us could be an abandoned daughter and the child with the bouncy hair and cherub cheeks would probably be craving for its mother’s warmth.

My own soul feels gray and cracked. And as much as I dont want to look back, I realise that only if I embrace my past with kindness will I be able to smile tomorrow. And I am grateful for my family and friends for all the support showered upon me, but is everybody else as lucky? As often as depression threatens to kick in, I remind myself that it is always not about me and that I do have a warm hearth and bed to sleep on.

The people we meet are as cold as the weather outside in November. Sometimes colder. We all take refuge in knowing someone more through their social networking profiles, than looking into their eyes and read what their soul is screaming out. It requires courage and we have fooled ourselves into believing that being a coward is a display of bravery. Our laughs are as fake as our will not to cry.

The highest of living beings have forgotten the rules of living, and here is a bunch of plants that are usually weeded out, showing me, what it means like to live and hold life in any given spot of earth. If this is not a symbol of hope for a ruining soul, then what is?

The Dacoit




Silence prevailed like a veil of black silk upon the sky

Dark and soft, it nailed its claws and

Buried its fangs into the heart

Of gurgles, mirth

Gods and goblets.


Far too long back

Emeralds to rubies

Rubies to grass.

As the nemesis flames

Danced and ate upon

What was once




Lulling waves,

Like dying embers on


A wait too restless for

The paramour

He said he was.

An armed shadow

Climbed the forts,


Thousand men tall

Fewer men fat.

Dagger of hate,

Hidden in his

Cloak of plans.

Tonight he will plunge into

The treasure,

Of flesh ,

Wet flesh ,

Salt and sour,

Human and heart.

Red brine

To combine for

The victories once

Of his long lost land.


And there she waited

Naked bosom

Cascades of raven hair

To clothe alone

The womb that trusted

The rump of a

Thousand desires.

Blind to the dagger

Blind to the words

Blinder to the lust

Seething with ire

Of the man

From a long lost land.



Let’s ravish


Let’s dance.


Let’s try



Let’s cry.


Let’s drink


Let’s kill.



Let’s live.

For all that we had lost and

Thought we had won.


Across the mountains

Of shadows and lies,

Rivers slumbered by

Dreams and silent sighs.

A scream.

Froze the azure night


The moonlit lakes

Withered in their bellies.

When the steel

Cold as his love

Sharp as the man.

Impaled the ivory

Beneath her heart.




Secret Temples for Unacceptable Gods



Glitters, glazes and lights of

A paralysed mind and fingers to scribble

Over thoughts of the winds

wafting away and away

Miles and  miles

Chemical peace

Salt water burns

To numb of clocks ticking

For long into

Permanency ephemeral

Bile in the gut

That tastes of iron in the mouth

Iron to encase the heart

Yes the shield

It creeps through the veins

Of the inimical thoughts

Desperate to sleep

Tired, eyes wide shut

Of grief

Of grief

Of grief

That was uninvited

Unwelcomed , you Kafka’s bug

If you were sublime

I’d sleep with you

In a liplock forever

But she spread her veils

And dug her claws

Into my own

with love and more

on her red wine lips

And I drank to thee

Some venom it was

Venom I collected from the snake in my


And the goblets , those goblets

They held brine and sweat

Of centuries of fate

Into oblivion we, I passed

Into glory of solitary

A single piece of peace,

I ebbed , I ebbed

Of what I held to

And swam the waves of giant deluges

sometimes to be let carried into their

Little deep trenches

Beneath , dark and endless.

Soul flying in soulless.

Ruins of the

Gardens of our hearts.




Dragonflies and Monsters




What do you want?

all that you can bite

And a bit more.


And then.

Where do you go

from here,

Across the fields of gorse

Where the mountains

will mother you

And the winds will sing

lullabies of wars fought

and heroes gone.

And you will stand

In awe of her love

Foreboding the changes to


And she will whisper to

You and the

sea across

to spread blue warmth

upon these cold, cold skies.

To remember

The smoke and  unsung heroes

Her blood, her breed, her tears.

And to cry

a dry eye, a deluge in your








What should I write

About it

when time has forgotten

to remember us

Staring across a

million light years

never knowing when

we would breathe in the morning

Which would finally arrive.

Was it a dream

Was I living elsewhere

When you coloured my gray sky

With an ink so dark

That even the sun smiled

Upon the rains here

In my fields of

Late blooms.