vaguely recall one most burrowing that makes me sore –
about a civilian Government and nakedness,
albeit I may make a mistake; this recalling process
is like the body of a refugee swept ashore.
In the milieu drums the sea.
Our eyes smile in white.
Gulls’ aerobics loop a muss.
Where else can I misplace a book but on the shelf of conscience?
Authored ‘The Circus Came To My Island’, ‘A Place For Your Ghost Animals, Understanding The Neighborhood’, ‘Scratches Within’, ‘Kleptomaniac’s Book of Unoriginal Poems’, ‘Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems’ and now ‘Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel’ (Alien Buddha Press)
I am so excited that this month I am able to continue that series and share it with you all for the month of November! Wonderful artists have put together heartfelt work to shine their light into darkness.
Their pieces are in efforts to promote the celebration of all countries, to humanize cultures who have been dehumanized, and to show support of those suffering due to racism. It is also a peaceful protest against the inhumane treatment of immigrants and refugees happening in the U.S.
This is not about politics, but about making humanity the priority.
Join us in spreading these arts of love by liking, commenting, and sharing these upcoming beautiful pieces.
page bled as I scratched and punctured its surface.
pen clearly marked its wake
it slowly marched from left to right—a nauseating routine.
stains mimicked the silhouettes of
the Earth’s soaring peaks and deepest
filled the once virgin plain.
Each stroke, a glacial movement,
destined to leave a scar.
its wounds clotted and dried,
within them were thoughts made immortal
the hopes that one day, they too will be great.
these thoughts turned to words
not my thoughts nor my words,
traces of a poison
ignorance of others) forced down my throat.
have infested my mind with lies
anchored my voice with judgement.
have killed my tongue.
have killed my tongue.
soul lay among the ashes—
of the fire over which my heart hung.
angry fire in the epicentre of a crowd
to feast. And feast they did.
turn the page,
herein lies no unthinkable secret,
a procession of words
solemnly skirt a silken black hearse
which a poet rests—a silenced poet
whose voice the world chooses to ignore.
I sinned and was punished.
Bound. Tortured. Banished.
I trusted and was lied to.
Accused of things I’d never do.
I was blinded and tossed.
My tongue clipped—speech paused.
Imprisoned by muted cries and screams.
Wounded by shattered dreams.
My breath ceased—body still.
Death shall stay to have its fill.
What have I done? Tell me at least. I’m no monster—no life sucking beast. I’ve not killed nor lied, nor hid in the shadows of my pride. Punish me if you must, but not for Envy—not for Lust. Ridicule me. Shun me. But first, stay to hear my plea.
Yes—I am a Criminal, a serial wrong-doer, but only here, in your world, where Love is no different from Murder.
think I am broken.
A shattered beer bottle
one too many. A mistake
swept up, dumped and forgotten.
I am beautiful.
catch the light
and make fragmented rainbows.
I will cut you.
I will leave a scar.
Go and tell your friends
about it years later,
over beers. I will
I try to tell my best friend
she is beautiful
I see my lips crumble away.
I see myself—scattered pieces—
Can you be two things at once?
sand castle reclaimed by the sea
before your mom could see
and before your dad could
you a pat on the back.
I am a wave diminished by the shore. Pieces of me burst— bubbles into oblivion.
sweat alcohol. I reek.
I am ugly.
spill. I am spilling.
I keep together like water.
Mop me up.
me up. Clean
I feel dirty.
have bumpy lines on my skin:
dried up glue that leaked from my
tried to fix me.
I am uglier.
you get it?
like your unfinished beer
that splashed all over
the bottle slipped,
the ground and smashed.
smash you up.
Kiss me and make a mess. Let me pool on the floor. I will evaporate by morning.