Saturday, 31 January 2009


Today the police ignored calls for help from an old lady whose house got robbed last night and didnt register a case of sexual harassment when a girl wanted to press charges against her live-in partner.

Instead, they went to a park.

And beat up two lovers sitting together.

Friday, 30 January 2009


It’s a fever of the veins
The last drop of rain
In this desert of strangers
Who pick and choose
What they can’t alarm or defuse
And pass it off as danger.

Thursday, 29 January 2009

I Remember

When talk is easy
Our mouths - a pistola
And separated, we fly with our words
Into the divide
It is times like these, I think of
The road I am walking.
Of the strangers that have passed me by.

And sometimes,
I think of my world
A prism in a bubble,
The colours dissolved.
Faint, as my reflection in your eyes.
A photograph, maybe a decade old
And a shelter from the rain,
Cradled in my arms,
Like a mother to a child.

When the fever of yesterdays subside like,
Moonlight from my door and,
Waves at the shore, we shall
Sing and play games with our masks.
And become two dreams, entwined
To haunt our nights.

In such times, I will remember,
A washed out room
And an evening canvas
Where the yellow sun of my autumn
Sank behind your eyes
When I learnt to speak in tongues
And wishes were let loose upon the wind,
Like clothes hung out to dry.

Friday, 23 January 2009


I wrote a song today called Here Comes The Rain after playing constantly for something like two and a half hours.

When i finally stopped, i looked up, the sky looked beautiful.

Wednesday, 21 January 2009

No One Knows

Running through ruins, we are
Chasing the sun, almost half now.
Avoiding threats from wanderers with stories
For a price
In similar ways we avoid
Our eyes from straying down a familiar road.

And when everything is devoid of shape,
We are devoured by circles, for,
It is in circles we dance
Before the waves come,
Take us away.

Forever young and foolish
But it’s not enough, and soon,
We must make our way back.
Before the witching hour
Before this secret turns to glass
And breaks.

Through days like these
Or when we meet in our minds and embrace
Forever wary of the eyes upon us
Eyes that know we are not the same
When we walk these streets now.

And as midnight burns to dawn,
We travel
From wind to whispers
From fist to fingers.

Everyone is watching
But no one knows.

Saturday, 10 January 2009

the part you avoid.

Ive never been good at talking about things once they are over(...or maybe i am...but only in my head...damn), and maybe it annoys me how good you're at it...yes...YOU. Maybe thats the only thing I am really pissed off about, more than anything. The sad thing is how we get used everything, like nothing ever happened...we never bleed, we're not allowed to...we restrict walk by the same road, to smile in the same corners where we huddled in winters and shared secrets, to watch the day turn to black, to wear ourselves out, like sweaters we must pass to our siblings after they stop fitting...sigh, gravity always wins...but I smile now, down is the new up...thank you for everything.

Tuesday, 6 January 2009


Through half black slanted eyes moving rapidly,
Gliding from door to door
Watching strangers, foes and friends
Across the room, you know
Sometimes they’re all the same.

And in the same room, we
Watch the day pass in black and white
Devoid of colours, a Polaroid
We become whispers, trapped
Like moths to a flame.
Like a reflection, re-arranged.

Like they keep secrets in China.

At times we talk in pictures.
We take the breeze that flutters prayer flags
And fly away to other lands.
Places where our grandmothers’ stories
Held their sway
To a time when our fathers were lovers
And our mothers didn’t believe
Everything they heard.

And sometimes,
Sometimes we speak in symbols,
In signs we made our own.
But we never say a word.
They will never know
Our language is one.