Wednesday, July 27, 2011

The man is locked away in a diary
Written by me
For this standard words

Can only be unlocked
By your sharp looks
Through that curls of hair
Smelling raspberry and olive
Scattered by a breeze
And my breath

Monday, July 4, 2011

Epitaph

Another rain from another time

There are no universes with a roof
You drank from the moon I have buried
For the dreams in it, poisonous
You are addicted now, for
You have nothing to say about me
But at my expense you made lot of jocks
The rain is hilarious as it pours in another time

There is nothing to hide now
The leaf is as green as it can ever be
The forest is as dark as it can ever be
But still I walk in my sleep to a poem
I have never written, for
You will understand them if I recite
But, no, I won’t, because I can’t break
My image of toughness or arrogance

There, dear, is my grave. Come, read the epitaph
Life is what made me and broke me
Life is what given me a grave this beautiful
And I am thankful to you both.







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