17 6 / 2013
So there
Time folded us up
Like papers, scribbled on,
Fragments and phrases.
Now we’re on opposite ends,
Sides, corners,
Your wellsprings
Don’t hydrate me
Anymore.
I’m on my own,
And that’s
Okay, fine.
My soil is dry
And cracked,
And I’m fine.
I’m elongating,
A stem deprived
Of the sun,
But I stand tall,
Yeah?
05 6 / 2013
It’s June.
and I’m not crying,
I feel my ghost’s fingers
fit into
my body’s fingers,
It’s June
and I unpeel
the plasters all over
my scars
they’re more like
smiles, now.
Back in the times
when my ghost’s fingers
fit into
my bleeding aorta,
I dug trenches
in my limbs’ surface
placed love in there,
I buried love
deep in my sclera.
It’s June,
and I learnt that
I ought to place love
in already empty spaces,
like between
the fingers of
my left hand,
(I happen to write
with my right hand),
in the vacancy
I feel at night
between the bones
of my ribs,
in the ploughed soil
of my thoughts
and feelings,
mistaken
for quicksand
of self destruction.
04 6 / 2013
The Canopies of Arabic
We’re united,
brothers and sisters,
an oasis,
a tree in the desert,
our bark is lined
with fungus
and axe marks
and yet
our roots are living.
Living?
That’s right.
We shed the leaves
so yellow
and poor
crunching under oppression
the rain will come
soon
and wash
our guilt away.
We’re united,
brothers and sisters,
a tree in the desert,
we grew some money
in our branches
and covered ourselves
with glass
the leaves were
really stupid.
We’re united,
brothers and sisters,
a tree in New York City,
our roots
oh
these are still
rotting in the desert.
We’re united,
brothers and sisters,
we forgot
the smell of the sun,
it’s the petrol,
we’re numb,
and our leaves
are long ago
carried away.
02 6 / 2013
I say nothing,
I rarely think
but I feel the
dust inside
my head
form cocoons
that break open
every November.
I do nothing,
there’s a little
room inside
my head
with candles that
smell like lavender,
matches wasted
over burning
my thoughts,
and a buzzing sound,
no one’s gonna call
anyway
but the line
is always busy
hang up
when I fancied
talking
to you.)
02 6 / 2013
Things I’m not:
- Parfum
with aqua
and limonene,
- grass lands
in night time
for eyes,
- soft hands of
sweet liver,
- a heart that
beats
for you.
*
The key you
inserted,
a competitive
inhibitor,
wouldn’t turn
even if you
did try.
You didn’t.
Doesn’t matter.
I like being closed
like a bookstore
by 10:30.
*
Things I am:
- lactate
with aqua
and minerals
- desert lands
in day time
for eyes,
- just hands
strangled
with pens,
- a heart that
beats
because of God.
01 6 / 2013
Free
Finally,
with all the
storms inside
my fingers
and little mind,
I untangled two wires
of headphones,
turns out
they were separate
after all
and not a pair
of right and left.
Finally,
I untied two strings
of letters,
turns out
they were words
not even in the
same sentence.
Finally,
I wiped my
foggy windows
and us isn’t
a rainbow
anymore,
oh, finally,
I saw that
you were the moon
reflecting sunlight,
and I were the Earth
blue
polluted
but reflecting
so much more.
01 6 / 2013
And as in air,
we need to
take in poetry
so that
we can breathe
out more.
01 6 / 2013
Ah, that taste
you leave
on my tongue,
a varnish
to all my senses,
efflorescing on
the bed
of my taste buds,
with skin like
gold, Sahara,
and warmth
like nothing
before.
01 6 / 2013
I’m just a word
jotted down
hastily,
and I’m tired
of its monotony,
I’d drown beneath
the paragraph
rather than
roll over its turns,
I’d stretch a little
letter but my
mind’s a cylinder
that’s hollow
and revolving.
29 5 / 2013
Look here,
I’m terrible
at living,
but my mouth
sucks air anyway
and my nose
keeps leaking
air; a
precious set
of heartbeats
wasted.
Look into
my eyes,
and see
for yourself
how I’m terrible
with looking
and seeing.
A trillion pictures
of this world
burn, unused,
inside my mind.
Look here,
I’m terrible
at writing
but this ain’t writing
it’s burning
myself
alive
it’s my fingers
that won’t
stop leaking.
29 5 / 2013
Isn’t it funny?
Sad notes
break out
in my throat
as I close my eyes
and see you
mentally kiss
other honey blossoms.
Then,
I open my eyes,
and feel the tears
wash away
the universes
you told me about.
Now
that it’s summer
our mingled scents
are diffusing away,
it’s time for others.
29 5 / 2013
My heart’s
a clenched fist
with nail marks
like incomplete crescents;
my heart’s
gotten stiff
with images
like a full suitcase;
my heart’s
broken to pieces
like a comical vase
swept beneath a carpet;
my heart’s
confetti, stepped over,
abandoned
after a party;
my heart’s
a piano
with missing keys
without which
you could never play.
28 5 / 2013
Broken #3
My lung starts
to cough out
dust bunnies
and dead stars,
it’s blacked out
with the
soot and tar
of infatuation.
Your name’s
still there
unburnt
like remnants
of poetry.
