Things I never know

flower-1313029There are so many things I don’t know
and I hope I never do.

the burning wrath that flows
when you lose your crop
only a farmer knows.

that bullet should’ve been yours
which is in your comrade now
how death has changed its course.

that home you lived in happily
destroyed by a 10 inch bomb
now entombed with your family.

that mothers screeching wail
as she buries her children
for their final sail

a morsel you had yesterday
a meal a month ago
only a feast of misery lay

the lands are scorched and still
throats are parched too
but driest is your will

of all things this most true
so many things I’ve never known
and I hope I never do!


The deep blue me

fallen-leaves-1186095-640x480There is a confession,
buried in my mind
disguised as a serpent
in a vine,
poisoning ceremoniously.
This “confession” used to be
a garden of roses,
this bed of blooming scarlets,
now an overgrown carpet
of thorns.

My confession was buried
in a coffin, alive
this immortal thing
constantly scratching
its way out
I hear it clawing
when I sleep
when I walk
when I eat
when I talk
and someone asks
“What’s the matter?”
My spoken words get
buried in its laughter.
What I want to
and what I say
are two different things
I garble something like
“I am okay”
over disparate yearnings.

It is only in solitude this confession
dances on my tongue
it prefers no audience and in certain
confined rooms this monster hung
around my neck, whispering.
I eat the words which
flourish in my blood and
nibble at my soul
stuck between the devil and
the deep blue me.

We the poets


We have been accused
Of portraying love
Through biased goggles
Like it’s rainbows
And gold dust
Like it’s mist on
Pastures so green
It boggles
Your mind; that
Love is a
Shimmering sheen
Blinding the demons
Antidote to darkness
Panacea for your soul
We never talk
About how love is
A see-saw
Which takes two to play
And eventually one day
Like distracted children
They abruptly get off
Leaving you to fall
Shimmering sheen
Blinding the demons
But their eyes adjust
Ready for their assaults
Antidote to darkness
But love isn’t a source
Of light
It is a candle that
Will eventually burn out
And the wax remnants
Wane you.