Finding Tuesday

You think of Monday The blues, the rhapsody of anxiety The work tumbling like the tide The possibility of a heart attack Or worse a stroke [Some garlic bread please for the heart ailments] And then you still look through the mania Grab hold of an oar Paddle past seconds, minutes and hours To a…

Galle Fort

The walls, the ramparts Preserve the eroded structures. And if you’re lucky enough You will see the lone horse Grazing on a patch of grass stubs, Lost to his own bubbling hunger. Oblivious of strange-colored eyes that loiter The surroundings. While in the restaurants Coffee is being served, over-prized yet Delicately flavored in hazel nut…

Hippo

Eliot compared you to the catholic church. You’re as holy as that to the natural sciences. A hog with an armored suit That spends her daylight hours Inside a hole filled with mud. A mammoth body that idles submerged In thick sheets of chocolaty-water. A fat log of hog that spends Her time in a…

Poem to my unborn son, if you’ll ever be

I’m a boy in a man’s suit Which makes you illegitimate to my statutes of law But age tells me otherwise; That my gametes can swim to any moon. Your mom was a class lady She made me fall for her in so many different ways Love, knee jerks, heart skips Head over heels like…

Man’s Redemption

Man is slandered and persecuted by rumor As the hunter and the sex-god The boner that defines his gender. And he is only, a spoon with sugar Extending to a hidden mouth with drool Hoping that it is not just indulgence, A sugar rush, he gives. He too sees a bald moon in her eyes,…

Nostalgia (Dedicated to all my friends)

You can’t make a microscopic slide Of a bone to see what life exists inside. You can still take a photograph From the past, to see bubbling eyes Frothing skin and time climbing out Through the silhouette of a loved one To connect a day of remembrance With an epoch of life We are always…

Women of Mystery

She doesn’t always come out of the mouth Of a toothpaste tube. Fact not fiction. That is the cardinal rule for a woman. It is the mystery, the allure, the face-veil We don’t see past. The mystique. And in India and Sri Lanka, women Marry men they have never set their eyes on, Arranged marriages,…

Michael Jackson

The legacy of a man Supposedly Of two skins Of two poles Of two shoes And one moon Where he walked on With glide, poise and steal. Talent is not how you Make a crescent, a circle It is not how you make jaundice, gold It is how you pour Moonbeams into a million hearts…