Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Friday, May 15, 2015

home is a point in infinity

i used to see a home
at the deep end of this road

it's been a while
now
i've been walking
for quite sometime now

cutting
miles after miles
now


my feet have become
battered oars
that have seen
seas at their roughest
and their unkindest
for sometime now

i used to see a home

it's been a while now


the topography
and the texture
and the nature
of the earth
beneath my soles
keep changing

but the home i see
stays fixed
at some distant point
in infinity

and i've kept walking towards it ever since
i first saw
it's been a while now

there have been times
when i have thought
should i stop walking
and just lie down now

but the side of a road
the feet of a moutain
the womb of a valley
the duvet of the desert
and dreams
made out of the night sky and the
invisible daytime stars
aren't exactly home now

not the home
i see
at the deep end of this road

and it's been a while now

i carry the fear
i carry
the weight of the thought
the weight of its absence
now

it's been a while now

the home fixed at some
distant point in infinity
at the deep end of this road

and i've been walking towards it
for sometime now

home has become
synonymous
to
walking towards
the
home
at the deep end of this road
now

home
has become
cutting
miles after miles
now

home
has become
my feet
now

sea worn
spirit torn
battered oars
now

home
has become
a while
now

home
has taken
a while
now

Thursday, March 26, 2015

awake, i am safe.

safe
when i am
awake

it is sleep
i am careful
not to slip into

lest something
that is now and present
slip away

awake
i am safe
sleep, i dread
and all that
follows

dreams, maybe
nightmares, why not
and time

time
timed
and time in a hurry
like time
losing out on time

time
timed out
and mistimed
rapid eye movement
with vacant
stagnant pupils
and iris
fluttering
like a trapped butterfly
shedding its colours
leaving colours behind on
uncaring callous
fingertips

sleep
sleep i dread

awake
i am safe

a love letter

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

ashes

i burn my home down
and i sit and watch
as it goes up in flames

i sit and watch
till it turns
to ashes

i burn my home down
the flaming torch
to my cold, blue, winter games

a handful of ash
i pocket
some
i smear on my forehead

for years
for a lifetime
my home
housed me

and
now

in my pocket
and rubbed into
the lines on my forehead
i carry it around

i am
sullied
and baptized
i am
homeless
and without walls

i am
my home
i
burnt down

Thursday, October 16, 2014

brimful

you do not write much
you do not write too often
but when you do
those two
words
that you write
i gather them

i hold them
those two words
with the exact same care
that i
gather air
i hold them
like i would 
collect a stream of fresh water

in the hollow base of my palm

i take
your two words
and fill balloons with them
words, words like helium
filled in balloons
of pastel shades
balloons made out of satin
tied down
with silk threads
to a mahogany writing table

those two words
that you write
around which
every other thing
stays 
yet
fades
becomes
conspicuous
by its absence
stands out
like people around us
would
in the plains of
invisibility

those two words
you write
are like you
like the morning dew
like grains of sand
like scent of an ocean
like a scarf
made out of
the summer sky
wrapped around
an august neck

those two words
you write
are like you
like
crystal cubes of
saccharine
melting away

like
you
who i gather 
in little
smooth
shape shifting
coffee cups

you
who
do not write much
you
who
do not write too often

but when you do...