The images that come to you on a Sunday morning

Jesus, crucified
in an altar
facing the sea

Desires, Prayer beads
Rain down your skin
as you walk,
into the endless gaze
of a body sprouting blood

You turn away, from the wickfires, glorifying
a sacrifice, and face
the monsoon waves

Love, leaves the shore
again and again
Droplets from the altar
flow past your breath
filling the waters

The sea and the sky,
Pale blues, spilling over each other

You smile, as you notice, a million
crossing overs

wetness over the sandbanks
yellow lights over eyes, closed
sky over your purpose, and
My longings, over
your abundance

Casual Intelligence

It feels numb to walk out of the familiar street of clustered love and longing to the vastness of apathy
Hours Wet streaks dry, famine down your cheeks Prayers Hope, like dark clouds drifting away Words, assumed comforts Left over sourness of distant stare and the immediate chill
You walk out the dragging breath, half built bridge. The bunch of females, his mud plains of unejaculated coital mirth

The Mound at my Backyard

The legacy
you pass down
to your son, sits
at your backyard
showering flowers
on to a pit

Golden white fur
breathless, still
sleeps, over ants
mud, dry leaves
and tears

He sits lost, recollecting
the pet names, the cuddles,
the warmth
that spread through his feet

And I, stare through
the million mounds
over my senses

The barren cemetery
Lit by my solo cigars

The Insult

Suddenly, one day
You become a weed
on a courtyard wall

The wild green
that nourishes
on the intrinsic bliss
of his domesticity.

Their murmurs of yesteryears
gather on your body,
hanging down
the dilapidated concrete,
and write
new epilogues
for a play, that ended
much before
the first Act

Your hapless nerves
become, the scorching summer
intruding, their frozen corridors.
The melancholy whore, You
spread like evening rays
over, the impending silence.

Your words
Your skies
Your cuddle
Your newfound womb,
shatter over
a forbidden land, mutilated.

The snake bite
on their moonlit nights, You
ooze out, from
a million pores.


Seventy five summers
weighed down on her
as she stepped out
of the home
he was laid to rest.

Not a drop could contain
the sea, she left to dry
now lost to termites
and her progenies other worlds

She, the alien
to be forsaken, earnestly.
Her hunched values,
broken limbs, sagging breasts
and vague senses

The door, closed
behind her.

the gaze
wind, and
the road.


like an unwritten poem
Word by word
Letter by letter
Breath by breath.

Like an island,
embracing the current
that spreads over her body
the poison blue.

like the sky
Carried away to the south
by the birds

Like people
walking out of lives

like God

Like a love


I may not have done this
if you had, held me close
for a moment or so
before walking away into
the chores of indifference

Leaves holding on to the wind
before the fall.

The morning dew,
droplets of diamonds
On my face, pale white.