Zero

Strange patterns
Movements, false images
Curved out of sand,
For men of ashes
Glories
Women with jasmine
Fade….

Out! Damned Spot!

The final act is over
Curtains please

*Clap clap*

El Dorado
Soldiers
march march march
rain rain rain
church church church
pain pain pain

So what if I tell you that I have spent all my life imitating you?
So what if I tell you that I have spent all my money gambling?
They had shot at us
They had stabbed us
Blood!
Fresh blood!
Hush!
Don’t cry
Don’t cry, baby,
Don’t tempt me to choke you…
Friend, my friend
Will I not dance for you as I see you dying?

Mint in her breath
Diamonds in her eyes
Love in her death
Birds in her skies

I swim
You swim
We swim
Me swim
Us swim

Sweet dream
Eyes skies sighs surprise

*throb throb*

So?
Is it a tower? Is it a flower?

The old pervert insect
Antique, oversexed grasshopper,
inside-out, harbours

The tiger awakes,
Burning bright!

And Leda, they say, was ravaged by a Swan!

Actors act that they are acting
Inked out by the swan
A red dot in the yolk
is life! Life!
Burning bright
Watertight

Float, swing, shoot, squirt
Our other lives
Our other deaths

The camel is a thinker
From ancient greek imageries
The snail is a freeze-shot
From old silent movie-frames
Even T-shirts talk of revolution
In their own multi-faced jewel-assed advertisements
Someone must have injected a witch’s head in
a whirlpool

It’s all blue now

Lonesome
Own some

I like your skin
Soft, velvet, river-flow
Veins and guts all rolled-up
Tucked-up, stored, hidden
Somewhere safe,
Somewhere barbaric-cave-ebb-tide,
(Time and tide waits for a nun)

I like your skin
May I touch you?
Now?

*drumbeats in the background, an artist painting
his own death*


We step out for our journey on a night like this

Zoom camera!
Take a close up of the toad’s warts
Tears of some old lady
Branches with birds chirp chatter gossip
Green pale by the lanterns for electricity
is still a luxury for many

Blue pale
Reddish
Yellow
Hakuna Matata
A Wheel with Wings

Someone has died somewhere
This ghastly massacre must end
Gypsy-tents, bon-fires, story-nights

*The volcano erupts*



Summer-time,
Summer-time
Caterpillars, Breeze
Whoa!!!

Pack your bags before it’s too late
Don’t forget to put your corpse in it

I believe that I don’t believe
I open myself up
I am happy
I am the rain

And then,
The poet meets the sniper

It’s nothing, really
Just a butterfly stuck in spiderweb