(The God that is ours and Nos, we) I have to tell you a very old story – of Ouranos, the sky God, the father of the Titans. Call him Dyayus, Ptah, or Pitah Maha! He was the epitome of progenitive profusiveness. The fertility God! The Omphalos. So envious was the fish of the deep sea of him, that the evil fish not only Continue reading “O Ouranos, if only they could remember you!: A poem “
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So many retakes, and I am only recounting!: A poem
Do you think I like the rarefied air of the mountains? The sun-burning of the expansive deserts? Do you think that I should not live to enter the plains? Moses died before he reached the Promised Land! Must I entertain the same fate? Should I swear I am an elusive Mountain? Not even your haloed Mount Shasta holds a candle to me! And if inContinue reading “So many retakes, and I am only recounting!: A poem “
Moon, I have no mirror of myself in you!: A poem
There is a stark stillness in the air, like as if it was portraying a death! But whose death? We have learnt to believe that Friday is a day of mourning. When do Muslims celebrate their Sabbath? Would Freyja feel ostentated by this? I can see the disillustrious crone of a Moon hold her bloody dagger with her hands behind her back! ButContinue reading “Moon, I have no mirror of myself in you!: A poem “
What is the disposition of my indisposition against the shame of their indispensable evil?: A poem
What can I make of the contrarian voices? This is a misdeemed world; the sopranos rise above the turrets, on the billboards of buildings that touch the sky, for your edifice of lies. But I still hear the contralto! Where did they begin to tell the story of humankind?! Would their tales be sodden wood floating on a misbred high deep seas? I may just as well be anContinue reading “What is the disposition of my indisposition against the shame of their indispensable evil?: A poem “
It is time that moves, but I am motionless for you, Jashmina!: A poem
Could I have eternally believed that I could possess you through a dignified resilience? Can patience be as copiously annexing as violence? That I should dream that the lessons you teach me, sustain me and help me breath equanimously in the overwhelmingly expansive dark cavern of my reality whose alleys are chaotically stretched in a bumper-to-bumper of cross-purposes and contradictions, and propositions and intimidations. And should I beContinue reading “It is time that moves, but I am motionless for you, Jashmina!: A poem “
In my scruples, I have not the conundrum of Sylvia Plath’s fig tree: A poem
I have no paint on my face, though I’ve been clowning and acrobatting in a cirque de soleil, where even the Sun has little to cheer about! And the audience is perpetually dismayed, yet keen observers. I am sitting on the crotch of a fig tree that is asking for me to shake it down, so that all the fruit come Continue reading “In my scruples, I have not the conundrum of Sylvia Plath’s fig tree: A poem “
Dad look at me, rage crosses my mind in my patience!: A poem
Sometimes, I think I can break every moment like a walnut, in the nutcracker of my mind! As if I was some kind of Shivaite entity, the cosmos like paper crunching between my fingers And I don’t need to draw out its entrails becuase at the point of my destructive force, I am disinterested! I am not obsessed with the villainyContinue reading “Dad look at me, rage crosses my mind in my patience!: A poem “
Anthony Albanese, I will never forgive you! Never! You committed the most heinous crimes against me…and you are still continuing with them. The most livid reprehensible vehement shame and curses on you, from me!
Archangel Gabriel, you gay lunatic and beggar!: A poem
(I hate the Moon! I hate the fish) Archangel Gabriel wherefrom did you arise into the realm of humanity? You were a depth in the deep sea, where you lay driveling like a swine You are a gay icon, like never knowing your colours between green and brine You are a heavenly piece of shit, like you’d be swingingContinue reading “Archangel Gabriel, you gay lunatic and beggar!: A poem “
Mother, there is a loud dystopian outcry; must justice die?: A poem
I hear a placenta knocking at my door I always had my lightening amid the vocal sound of silence This is more awakening in the sonne et lumiere Much of it was the love that I had for you! How can I discard the womb of my life for an underbelly of pretentious happiness? Spirituality is much my core, and it is your voiceContinue reading “Mother, there is a loud dystopian outcry; must justice die?: A poem “
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