Thursday 19 April 2012

The Night The Shells Changed You



His fingers moved on them back and forth,
Each one holding a million years of worth,
And they ended up in his young strong hand,
Was it always made for him? a gift from the sand,
Sea tides and the last breath of a creature,
And from her, this strong and silent preacher
When she gave them away he did not stop to look
At how the tears in her sparkling eyes shook,
He knew tears, he knew she was scared even though
She was too brave as to let it show,
And he knew his fear too, that's why he so quickly
Hid them away, their edges seemed old and prickly,
they seemed wise and they might have spilled
Secrets that so long his black box had filled,
Their hollowness, look at their core so hollow,
Did picking them up ever sooth her sorrow?
Was I hard to miss?
Did she listen to them and remember our kiss
in their cavernous tides? much like her love
Always sinking deeper, but taking her above,
There, her eyes in them started to appear
In the hollowness to bid the night clear
I remember how she said something about
them having magical powers to clear all the doubt,
and I remember seeing her without really seeing her,
and feeling their magic in such a colorful blur,
If only I can run my fingers on their ridges
without fear of burning her crystal bridges,
If only she would know how those shells
Are such a threat if they cast their spells,
I'd bury them in wells, and to hell with the vow,
I'd throw them back into the sea if I only knew how,
He held in his hand all eight of them
A bridled white that he ought to condemn,
And he stood in the dead of night on the street,
Arms stretched, his hands marked by their heat,
He threw with all his might, but his hand refused
To obey his mind, then the riot diffused,
And soon his heart itself could not comply,
And then his mind fell motionless to their tie,
He would not do it, but he can not acknowledge
that her little shells had sharper than him an edge,
And the bridge, let him walk all over it tonight,
Will he try to throw them away again? He might.

I picked them up from the heart of the sand,
Washed them in the soul of the sea and
Thought that someday they were a home
for a poor creature that died at the foam
of his violent world after having lived deep
After joy lit up high and fear down did creep,
But he died alone and now his home was hollow,
So I took his home for my home to borrow
And maybe when he finds his home someday
He'll need a home to give her,so he'll give them away,
Maybe then their spell would set him free,
God, How I wish they would eventually return to me.

Tuesday 17 April 2012

How Do I Love Thee?



My soul fell silent but my pen still demands
Satisfaction for my tongue’s transgressions and
My heart’s conspiracy against my mind’s sanity,
How could you be so childish as to put your faith’s clarity
Into an Odyssey of color? An artistic fallacy
Simplistic in all its depth and rich in frantic malady.
All the wisdom, peace and light of sages fall short,
Of treating symptoms of that austere sort,
For all what sages do is to touch the mind,
You see, mind’s nothing to do with diseases of that kind,
All its power, so overrated by the world, tumbles down
At the sight of so much as your beloved’s frown,
So what is the use of pens when the soul is mute?
Even when my heart bears enough of fruit
To feed the whole lot of Africa for centuries ahead,
And still I leave them to rot under my bed,
They turn black slowly, like the inside of my skin,
They lose their volume like my patience running thin,
And sin? Of all the reasons, why has god created sin?
For girls like me to run to, at the sight of every lost win?
For men’s decisions to seem relevant? For the whim
To be more meaningful? For our imaginations to swim
In oceans deep without of the fear of losing breath?
You know imagination dies the moment it senses death,
But not mine, I’ve reached for death willingly so many times,
It has been a most prominent theme in my rhymes
Since I first died at the hands of a fleeting knight
Who lost his place in the kingdom and rode out of sight,
And ever since he disappeared, I’ve died for all the same
Reasons, the same tunes, and I’m the one to blame,
Even though they had all the weapons sharp and ready,
It’s my fault entirely for making their hands so steady,
In the process of my slaughter, on the altar of daymares,
At the feet of happily ever after, now at the feet of a pier,
And how do I love thee? Let me count the ways,
I love thee in the dreams of the sun, and when the moon prays,
I love thee like a stream of light with all the universe’s stars
Wrapped inside it and rushing to its cage’s invisible bars
To expand then implode in colors never discovered and
I love thee with the color in painter’s eyes and poet’s hand,
I love thee with the passion of witches for hidden nature,
And got them burned by the fire of the same creature,
Consumed, ashes to ashes, ashes back to earth,
And whatever ends in earth must look upon a rebirth,
So ashes to ashes, love, I know I’ve said it before,
Go unheard of, go free, go captured underneath the floor,
My love is not for owning, it’s for my poetry alone,
My soul if not for yearning, would’ve turned to stone.

Sunday 8 April 2012

Oxytocin


Do you know that when you look,
And when your smile my soul invades,
The whole universe around me, it shook,
Do you know the sweetness of your blade?

Have you seen the involuntary glistening
Of my eyes at the sight of you?
To the words beyond the words have you been listening?
Do you hear that, love? It is for you.

It’s all about you, from the time I wake,
Till the time I bleed myself hollow,
Till my heart cracks and I slowly break,
At the feet of your love’s leaching sorrow.

And I still follow, because they made me believe,
That love is god’s heaven on earth,
Yet I cross the moorlands on horses of grieve,
They gallop freely, run home, there’s no girth.

Take me from him, take me to him,
He’s the start, he’s where all life ends,
Take me to him, horses, grey and grim,
Maybe when he sees you, his heart bends.

Or maybe when I reach his gardens,
I will find them blooming for another,
My feet grow weaker, his ice hardens,
And it burns me, and I burn the heather.

To spicks and twigs and yellowish wreckage,
That engulfs all what there is, the universe
Broken to pits of stars and black holes in a cage,
Condemned to be resolved by my flying verse.

Like a curse never meant to be cast,
One that was born of rusty crowns and thrones,
Once, my love, I told you that nothing lasts,
And that’s why the fire slept in my bones.

Then the fire burned them frail and thin,
Then you made them strong and yours,
For whoever gives meaning to the soul and skin
And makes them one creature, shall cure-

The unforgivable curse, memories dying untold,
Sometimes never born, and quietly buried
In the dreams of now, in your heart of gold,
In my breath and out, to their doom they hurried.

But memories are no timid creatures to die,
Their corpses make you cry when you want to smile,
Their essence make you smile when you want to cry,
Memories don’t die, my love, they just sleep for a while.

Then they grow old and themselves with poetry they fill,
And they enslave the horses grieve, make them wild,
Ride on; fear not, their fall will surely kill
You, if you’re lucky, your soul sleeps timid and mild.

And at its wake the faith shines strong,
Even though, love, you always come back only for doubt,
And for fears, for tears and obsessions, and all what’s wrong,
To nourish your throat at the time of drought.

But I apologize, for my faith in you
Can not be with doubt replaced,
Even though obsessions and tears are true,
Everything to faith can always be traced.

It is where my heart is entombed
It is the root of love, the core of dreams,
And it is the first sign of my surrender, the doomed
Path where silence is enchained in screams.

Obey, for your soul doesn’t belong to you,
Obey, the devil’s rhyme, your master’s perturbations,
Dance, on the graves of faith, love and the moor’s woe,
Close your eyes, spin and ask not for explanations.

Sin, to feel the dust that your faith envelops,
Maybe then you’ll remember you still have some,
Behold the mutations that in your soul develop,
As they bring you to your knees till your times comes.