Tag Archive: poems of hope


               faultlines …

jagged faultlines,
sears memories,


ashes swirling in the  breeze,

dust unto dust,
infusing our parched common soil,

with blood,
with tears,

falling, swirling down pockmarked cheeks,

as ceaselessly,

                     as the rolling of the years.



tears bleeding from bonedry eyes,
souls crucified across bloodred skies,

walking and a-talking,
seeing this, that,

wearing soles out,
following the bout,

of wracked nerves,
skewered on stakes,

regurgitated, restrung,
ready to be,
                     once more,


left out to bleed,

as long as the crowd applauds,

the insatiable beast,
needing new feed.

this migrant skin.

tin-cans, discarded cartons,
garbage bins,

littered with fragmented shards of myself,

shed, left behind,
amidst by-lanes,

pieces of who i was,
slivers of me,

ever trying to belong,
to be,

so we moult,
social chameleons,

slimy, deceitful,
charming, soulless,

casual, empty emotions,
flung aside here,

bits of that life,
of this,

leaving laughter, pouring tears, down drains hugging boulevards,

strewn with crushed petals.

this migrant skin,
this malleable face,

numberless incomprehensible masks staring back,

a mishmash mosaic,

shadows of yesteryears faces,
worn and torn,

ever straining to flee,

the restlessness growing,

teetering on tightrope,

as year turns to close,
I’ll see if I can find me.

( inspired  by Erich Fried’s “In Hiding” )

flames flickering

two gasping flames,

in disjointed unison,


ashes and rust,
corrosive, acidic,



bathed in spicy-cinnamon springs,
flying on cotton-candyfloss wings,

kissing darkest-chocolate lips lush,
all else we gleefully airbrush,

yet we feel not a thing,


dare i say it,

and still,
are we not beings,
of flesh and of bone,

or have we mechanised this too,
merchandising, through and true,

cold, deadened,
numbed & dumbed,

akin to a lump of jagged stone.


as we lie,

by so very much,

mostly fake,

do we see,
can we,


you, me, him, her, us,

the enslaved,

to maul the mall,

bye-buy dubai.


breaths interwoven,
tongues tied, waltzing in unison, skipping across tendrils of sparkling sensations, tingles racing through, this being entire, lost in the deluge of your gaze, rendering me mute, inflamed, aflame, ablaze …


walking through this neverending thicket,

thorns jabbing at my side,
cold, shimmering blade,
slicing emotions apart,

as she prepares once more,
to depart,

and settle in some corner of my manic mind,
shedding yesteryears moulting skin,

beating through the thicket,
feelings flailing, to mania akin,

while she leaves and buries herself deep,
in the convoluted recesses of my remaining senses,

having stormed the ramparts,
overrunning all defences,

so tell her I miss her,
and our moments shared,

and tell her that I am sorry,
I was cold.
I should have cared.

what of this shell,
this shroud,
this cocoon, fragile,

now untethered,
hearts kicked to the ground,
soaring into gay, abandoned flight,

surfing a silverlined cloud,
unshackled, wings spread wide,

these endless skies ahead,
afloat, away, beckoning,
surfacing from the cesspool of tears shed, bled,

taken, tugged gently,
away from the freshly moulted:

to surf the cottonwool tide,

to flee, another hide.

searing into blinded eyes, they say tempus fugit – time flies, so lets fly, drift, float,
on dreams, in an old junk,
swaying to the waves,
in a creaking boat, yet sailing against the incoming jibes, breaking free of the tentacled tides, free at last to seek the new day, bidding farewell to the bland, eyes seeking out coconut land, where gurgling brooks, waters pure, may wash away these sins, discarded bluntly over the years, in neatly lined dustbins, weighing me down, as the beach of promise nears, a visual balm, soaking in the marvel, even as the mirage clears.



what is this yearning,
this furnace, this cauldron,

this raging, fiery burning,

this need,
this ache,

these forms, entwined,
between clandestine half-nods,

momentary glances,
all those forgotten miles,

yet, still …

wanting, knowing,

the unsaid,
rendered unsayable,

by norms, forms,
blushes avoided,

rituals sanctified,
morals beatified,

while emptiness roams the heart,
as it feels itself,
ripped, torn apart,

yet, still …

inflamed by raw,
wild, ravenous desire,

hunger, famished souls,
seeking release,

from this deep freeze,
this styrofoam, inured,
buy-this not that-ness,

these shackles, obliviously embraced,
yawning phoney smiles,

in this world, these walls,
this society, these halls,

this whole racket,

looking back, bamboozled,

as to how one slipped so comfortably into,

this disturbingly comfortable straightjacket.

2 in 1 Scribbles

do you sometimes feel it too,

chords strummed,
drums clanging,


thud-thudding of your heart,

beating, banging,
clanging like the tolling bell,

seeking release,
from the mortal shroud,

as the curtains fall,
over rapturous hurrahing,

down at city hall,

attaining atonement perhaps,

attaining the value of patience,

perched on top,

cloud …

come take a stroll with me,
to your piece of heaven,

be it the bylanes of your childhood,
or the alleyways of your youth,

come take a stroll with me,
to your abode of peace,

a gurgling brook trickling down distant mountains,

the roar of the oceans lappin, caressing your feet,

come take a stroll with me,
down blinding highways of lost smiles,

across empty deserts, sapping already famished wills.

come with me,
and i will stand by you,

come along with me,

where we may be,
at last,

free to be …

talkin’ walkin’ along blues …

been a-walking awhile,
seen much,
heard bits,
scraps of yarns,
spun around the fires,

igniting cores,
huffing at social mores,
while a-walking along,
donning the masks,
of the strong,

in this cesspool,
where people fester in swamps,
because they isn’t anyplace else,

it was always all just fairytales,
meant to placate,

to buy time,
before truth portrays,

the real crime,

till then,
whenever the when,

betraying scars,
of endless wars,

to protect you,
as tsunamis flog hearts,
emotions like a whip,
cracks and lashes,

ashes to ashes,
dust to dust,

ashes in the breeze,
dust back interred,

the charade,
the party,

at all costs,


coming up …

washed ashore,

wracked in bronchospasm,

swallowing every breath,
hungrily, manically,

feeling my eyes clear,
sounds and smells filtering back,


between lungfulls of air,

and an emptiness left behind,

torn between spaces,
illegally alien,

to oneself,

the most desolate place,

lies beneath the veneer,

of the ever smiling, happy face


let us walk,
knowing not the paths ahead,

let us talk,
knowing not each others tongues,

let us breathe,
the simple joys of life,
away from shredding strife,

so, take my hand,
in yours,

and let us walk and talk,

through many tears,
and an occasional smile,

as we walk on,
and on,

past our final mile …

the city …

leaving behind,
tears, fears,
of unknown tomorrows,

of lifes nettles strewn along the paths we tread,

far far away, from the numbing dread,

the despair, isolation, the damp sorrow,

while the city,
ravenously guzzles,


the city,
never sated,

ever prowling,
to be fed.

wishing i could take your hand,

and walk away from these walls that close in,

suffocating hopes, living and breathing within,

us all,
human beings,
just people,

like you and i,
so close, so very near,

yet exiled by infinite sky,

always seeking release,

as we rake the dust,
ready to soar,

up high …

the nights of desolate fear, may have passed,

the days of infinite trepidations, may have waned,

yet the scars remain,

as does the pain …

when will i see your smile,
near me,

feeling your warm breath against mine,

when will i feel your touch,
beside me,

peppering your kisses with saffron whispers,

when will i hear you,
your lips against mine,

cajoling me, again,
to wait,
a little

while i whisper back,

knowing the hunger,
to remain stronger,
painting on the smile,
of the mirthful dream-monger,

while keeping at bay,

the raging cauldron
within my being entire,
sizzling, scorching me to the marrow,

the unsaid charade,
theatre for the conscience,
played out,
and in,

just beneath the veneer,

of dreams,
of you,

cascading through,

seducing the fabric of our shared time,

so clear,
crytallised, pristine,

yet, yet,


will we ever know why,

people are randomly broken,

infinite hurtful words spoken,

and will we ever know why time flies,

leaving us all,

twisted and cynical,
sterile, clinical,

as we race,

ever onwards,


headed for that inevitable,

invisible wall.

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