Monday, November 16, 2015

Rigor Mortis Love

Some days it’s a chipped nail
or a forgotten scar
the memory of a child I never had
the peculiar lump in the throat
that thickens with the smog
My writing is a variable matter
Its roots lie
somewhere deep inside
maybe under my lungs
from where I breathe
or in this life clock in my chest
Tic-toc, tic-toc,tic….
My heart is a kaleidoscope
It makes images
out of broken colorful memories
and then it’s a killer
Its weapon- again memories
Am I losing it?
What if I never had it?
that valued thing
called S-A-N-I-T-Y
Rigor mortis love
looking for its mortuary
Buddha and peacock feathers
and a cup of limp tea
Another day in what you call life
and I call unfinished memory.

Thursday, November 5, 2015

A day in my magical life

the smog sits heavy
like the carcass of
a dead relationship

in the rhythmic jostling of
a cycle rickshaw
lies the irony
of the ego spins
we derive
from the race
for being the superlative

the sedatives are strong
they blur memory
and sensation
but pain can't be extracted
like a rotten tooth

my fingers itch
my eyes twitch
looking for the next object
to scrub
while my mind fiddles
why ? why?

my late father's voice
reading out aloud
the laws of insulation

I know he is dead
I know the word "hallucination"

I close my eyes
and I jump off the cliff of self
into me

now I scrub
my soul's lamp
waiting for
some real magic.


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To Kill a Mockingbird
The Catcher in the Rye
Animal Farm
The Alchemist
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Romeo and Juliet
The Odyssey
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
The Count of Monte Cristo
Eat, Pray, Love
The Da Vinci Code
The Kite Runner
The Silence of the Lambs
The Diary of a Young Girl
Pride and Prejudice
Jane Eyre
The Notebook
Gone With the Wind

The Human Bean Cafe, Ontario

The Human Bean Cafe, Ontario
my work on display there !!!!!