Wednesday, August 18, 2010

HOME

Home is where we try to get Government jobs


The erstwhile poet sat on a fan plane
The hairy arm beside that of a Mallu, male
Vomit surfaces
While I was away I was safe, don't know what white or black arms could do to my sternum
But this blob of flesh beside me could rip and pour his filth into me
I know, I have lain beneath him.


Home is where you burn your own bed.

No one changes sheets or makes beds,
No invisible fair maid-en immigrant,
I've brought new unrequiteds home.
The white man knows how to sucker punch your soul
"Sympathetic character".

Home is not stress timed language


Here what you write is what you speak
This is an agglutinated tongue, run on words that spell
Love in fearless fury, not hiding behind metaphors inane
Where you don't let someone within your enclosures
If you don't mean it,
Where aunts four feet tall will smell your hair
And that's the kiss of ancestry
And they cry because they spot the cynical brother,late
In your niece's smile
And see the rotting rope that would hold her breath
For the last time
But that's years from now.
Where my last surviving blood has nightmares
Every dawn when his four-year-old sun shines and reminds
Him of the lil sis outside, drenched,in rain, always.


Home is where honour kills.
And breaks your womb with doors thrown open
Windows shut
Where push is powerless,
Where Sundays mean exams public,
crunching numbers, difference between
interests compound and simple for a sum
after two years, at the same rate,
I get lost in the fourth root of pi.
And never made it as a lefty.

Home is where I am not a poet.

Naturally

It is the natural law

It will happen

Girls will be married off

Because they have to naturally marry.



But



When he stepped in

yesterday

poltergeists of shouldn't haves tore my muslin membranes of discretion.

Meant walking away,

closing the door click shut, quiet

the little trap door of vermilion skin slipping

slithering, the being inside

can't make up her mind.


What women want is simple

acknowledgement of hysteria as legit.


Because paranoia is when

the drop of water, sliding crystal ball of twinkle lights and sparkling clear

on smooth brown skin

feels like the circuitous invasion of snails.

They leave indelible tracks that cannot be bleached sterile.



You see

Everything slips

My hand doesn't write as fast as my naturally female emotional thoughts

when my pencil loses the second syllable.

This is my desire for erasability

Not the wash-offability of ink

black, dark

the fake glee of royal blue

the little glue

of a smile that keeps humanity together.



When he slipped in yesterday

I pretended like I wanted nipple-twisting

nickel ringing

Cracking, uncraving open fissures ka ching!

The swirl in the toilet bowl is not his

this thing I try so had to retrieve and eject

the thing naturally racing to break the eggshell

tadpoles swimming in yolk red.



But women

don't ejaculate.


Monday, November 17, 2008

KNOWLEDGE


I want to know
What you do with my kisses
After I 've lost them.

How do you sleep
without my limits
Wake up without my time.


Walk without my silence
Run away without my tears.


Who is with you
when you are
without me?

Friday, November 14, 2008

I picked up a new habit today:
Involuntary breathing.

My boss hates the ink stains
on my sorry arms.

I am asked repeatedly
to let down my hair and smile.


My current best friend assures me
that I am not going to die.

They all somehow suppose
that
I want to live.

But you know i don't.

Not since all my passwords.

I came to know today
that you made a home elsewhere.

Good for you.

So I picked up a habit today

I learnt to live

Without loving you.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Musings inspired by an old break up in new bottle

"Home is the place where if you return
They have to take you back"



What comes to pass in the absence of 'they'
in 'their' absence?

There is no home ,
not even the absence of one.

People who once lived
in that country
Are not only extinct,
but fossilized,
fuelized...


They have all been forgotten
now only known as
the fuel for the engine
of my morbid poetry.

Not the presence of an absence
but a new presence.
A new evolvee.







Friday, October 31, 2008

WISH



I wish
You'd stop by my life today.
Go through the brochure;
See if you are sufficiently
Covered for accidental loss
Of identity
On purpose,of course.


I wish
You'd water my plants for me.
Feed my cat, walk my dog,
Make sure the dust sheets are in place,
Before you move house.
I am out of town
For a long , long while.


I wish
I could count on you.
Weigh your words in scale,
Blindfolded,just
Believe when you say
Truth is but a negation of the false.


I wish
You'd remember me.
Red marks on your calendar
Know me as a red letter day.


I wish
You would lie to me.
Call me up again and say
I love you
in the present tense.









Monday, October 20, 2008

On an Old Marble Love

Moments pass me by
like coaches
Training to be alive
go on and soak it in.
The sun has another
date today.
No worries, it's not me.
I serve and watch
While he smiles and charms.
I rest assured, happy, cocky:
Come September,
I ll watch him turn cold
And blue and bright
And then slowly wither.
The leaves change colour
So many so fast
I wrap and unwrap
A thing for you
In so many words
Difficult and aloof
All meaning to say
i love you....
(in lower case)