write a song no matter its form
sing it the way you want
what you want is what you get
sing it till the last breath

…with a gentle smile
Of a tinted teeth,
Splashing her Golding rays-
Calling…,
The spouse for their honey moon.
The night also calls…
The moon and the stars,
To retreat on his crescent
And the bulky stars stood robust,
Hanging above the vast-divide
Letting the twinkling stars to fizzle out
Though some hang above each other
Waiting for their turn to shine
When dark dwells,
The moon mourns
And the still stars stack ahead.
As the dawn broke out from her shell

Go To The Graveyard, but Whisper

If with a living hand,
an angel’s sleight made to seem
like love you would wash the moss

from my crooked stone, I would
blush, blinking, and in blinking,

blush. Look. My face has color now!
Sit with me once, your eyes veiled

with floral plastic. Ine the oil spun mist
of this capped grey stony brook let

the shade whittle your figure
and bludgeoned diamond tears,
wetting the stone’s split shadow

that sole aesthetic grace
borne from necessity.

The other side
reminds me of a young girl
immensely in love
her heart to be operated
early in the morning

She spoke to me
ere this happened
as if all was normal
(I wasn't aware
she was in ICU)

From the hospital
she sent a sms
to her best companion

'meet you on the other side'

My daughter cried
and said
Pop
I am also going

Though now I knew
'twas hard to console her
and I said Darling

'There is no other side.'

you may have shirts and shoes and shades
but the kind of style that never fades

is found on hangers in the heart
is put in invisible shopping carts

and it is bought with time and tension
want and spiritual comprehension

it’s where a smile or hug come from
it’s like MacGyver with chewing gum

it’s not material prosperity
but things like hope and charity

kindness, mercy, boldness, grace
the traits a wise man tries to chase

like the air that fills up a balloon
or the breath that plays through a bassoon

Anesthetic mists swirl as they part
while consciousness at last returns.
Surgeons have finished their wet task.
Mouth is dry and my throat burns.

High oxygen content tints the air.
Beeps and murmurs echo in the room.
Slowly I retreat from over "there",
that place where many meet their doom.

Beneath strong meds the pain resounds
(leg floating in another space)
On bobbing waves of oceanic sound.
An errant grimace flicks my face.

A writer
is someone
who is used to
putting his foot
in his mouth
to taste
what it’s like
to walk

one who is
willing
to take a
measured step
away from
his own strut

(yes, it is possible)
to become a stranger

to his own family
and friends,
so that strangers
can come infinitely
closer to theirs

(writers love strangers)
who in the act
of observing
risks the truncation
of everything
observation
was made
lengthy for

God requests

You all are abs right
God looks after you
when we all are out of his sight...

In heaven alone
HE/SHE
Might

on mommy Earth
keep your bootlaces
yourself tight

the OLE man/ (woman)
heaven alone knows

... nowhere ---

NOT DISCOVERED
as yet

has 7.5 billion plus more
+ add ons daily
to care for

coming from you
all special ones
it’s a
GLARE
none at Lovers like me
alone
now need to blankly stare

my love's not one
to lay back and listen to music.
that's why we fuck all day.
that's why i love music.

man, what the fuck?
200,000 years
and i'm still none the wiser

cos nothing changes. governments
world-wide, year-in year-out, pledge
prosperity and promised lands.
yet, after 6000 years of 'civilisation'
(whatever that means), here we are
still stuck in the bog of eternal stench

Status quo is unworkable
For fading powers, might is right
To seek out, strike and disable
Errant states, right enforced by might

Dearth of accountability
Global order untenable
Mass killing of morality
Peace progress unsustainable

With borrowers and harrowers
Market robotics systemic
Technology disempowers
Dynastic state rule endemic

Newer powers realignment
Democratic and logical
According power to dissent
Accountable and ethical