Sunday 10 February 2013

Snippets

i.

The city looked yellow
as the fireflies circled 
around in the sky
singing yellow songs.

ii.

I wish I could wear your headand march in your shoesfit into your jacketand borrow your signature.

iii.

Shadowed behind her curtained hairis a voice unheard,slaving to save her wordsfrom burning into flames.

iv.

Maybe,even after I dieI won’t disappear,like you did.

v.

Never so happyto be in my skinburied under woundsof your disappearance.

vi.

You can burn my heartwith your rage,or heal my heartwith your pharmacon kiss.

vii.

Two bodiesone heart,I wonder howyou two exist.

viii.

Let us lie under heavendoing what lovers doand let the stars silentlygawk down at us.




Friday 8 February 2013

You are a poet

You are a poet
and your thoughts make
poetry sound beautiful.
Undress yourself
and me see those words
incised in your skin,
cut deeper into your wounds
and let those love verses
flow freely, let them cascade down
onto the cold ground
to form a lake of emotions
(because a poet is not a dictionary of words,
he is a dictionary of feelings).

I will write to you.
You will write to me.
Like poets in love
we will fill the sky
with ink.

You are a poet
you fill the empty spaces
with words
and pieces of you,
you install life
into the dead/
the non existent.

You are close to my heart
and I will love you,
like the planetoids
love the old star,
forever.
I am writing to you
You are writing to me
and I will take a piece of your word
with me
to my grave
and there will we be,
together,
sleeping
with the universe shielding us.


Thursday 7 February 2013

I will cure you

I see right through you.
You are a being,
unlike any other,
you only need a little air
to travel down your trachea
to keep alive
(and a lot of love)
You illuminate your face
with that fine beam
to hide
the blue devils besetting
deep inside you,
you dig pits
to bury the unhappiness
and then look up
to admire the stars.
I want you to know
that I will not be waiting next door
for you to knock
asking for a rope
to pull you up
from the culvert.
Instead, I will be there
right beside you
cleaning your face with a swab.
And I will cure you
I will set all my atoms
into motion
and I will give you every part of me
to cling onto
and love.



Love Letters

A pile of letters 
stacked in my rack,
smelling like the apples
which once grew in my garden,
the garden where I sat
and scribbled them for you.

The envelopes jacketing
the letters
are slowly turning yellow
and it feels so old,
it feels like a century
has gone by
and yet I have waited
for you patiently,
balming my soul
and adding to the ocean
of love letters.

Each word inked 
on the papers
cannot be erased,
neither with tears
nor with crayons,
you cannot gnaw at it
and scratch it out
it will not change the truth.

Ink will leak and bleed 
from my heart
until you will sit next to me 
and, with a wet towel,
wipe out my wounds
because it has been enough now
and I feel alone.

I added another letter
today
telling you how I will give you
every part of me
till the world collides.





Wednesday 6 February 2013

Your portrait

Your portrait is hanging,
on the bister-painted wall
in my bedroom
not a speck of dust
covering it, no
I clean it everyday.
Your blue sanguine eyes
follow my shadow
all day long,
it knows me the best
it has witnessed my tears
falling down onto the wooden floor
and bouncing back, fragmented
into a thousand broken dreams,
your eyes have flipped through my life journal
and dipped itself into my blood,
it knows me and reminds me 
of who I am.
You have listened to my quivering tune,
when I cried.
That curve painted on your face
(and covering your entire face)
donates strength to me
it doles out the entire universe's force
and keeps me alive.
You portrait is painted 
at the back of my head,
but I want to touch it 
and caress it
till my fingers bleed.

Worlds

We are worlds apart.
Deep stretches of oceans
resting, 
separating our worlds.
I could drown a hundred times
and let my flesh turn into 
ice crystals
to reach you.
Because I have waited for you
and you are finally here,
screaming inside my head
and tapping on the screen 
of my computer,
you may come out now.
But we are worlds apart.
And you have someone 
to comfort you
(I don't)
 

Monday 28 January 2013

ii.


viii.

The city looked yellow
as the fireflies 
circled around in the sky
singing yellow songs.

MONDAY, 28 JANUARY 2013


vii.


I wish I could wear your head
and march in your shoes
fit into your jacket
and borrow your signature.

vi.


Shadowed behind her curtained hair
is a voice unheard,
slaving to save her words
from burning into flames.

v.


I banged you with a dagger
you survived?
I died the day you torpedoed my heart
we’re so different.

iv.


Maybe,
even after I die
I won’t disappear,
like you did.

iii.


Never so happy
to be in my skin
buried under wounds
of your disappearance.

ii.


You can burn my heart
with your rage,
or heal my heart
with your pharmacon kiss.

i.

Two bodiesOne heart,I wonder How you two exist.