All Day

I thought

and turned

into glass

by evening

the world

couldn’t get

more mischievous

than this

I thought

and realised

that you didn’t

really get much

not even sleep

which conjurer

of black airs

broke nothing

into this

I wondered

all night

till I turned

to stone.

 

The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).

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And Now

after all the madness

of the night

of red blood

seeping down the sky

down my walls

I sit here blank

and unhappy

my heart is a

ship on fire

sinking

and the roaring waves

of my days

engulf me

like demons

Dominic

Dominic

they call out

and I know

I tell them

I know the gardens

I know the dew on the grass

how it feels

I know I tell them

the kiss of the moon

on my eyes

Dominic Dominic

they call out

as the water

darkens my hours

I know I tell them

the warm morning sun

on my skin

I know the air

I tell them

I am a white butterfly

how wonderful it is to fly

but

Dominic Dominic

they call

as the roaring now

threatens to drown everything

around

I know the ant’s journey

I tell them

I know how they live

I was their friend once

how sweet they are

how much of the world

is theirs

how good a family

they are

I say I know

their lives

take it easy

I say

yet Dominic Dominic

they call out

my name.

Now This Is How It Is

inside I’m full of sadness

my mind is weaker

than a blank page

the sky mocks me from up high

so many years

I rose before it

and now

here once again

I sit

on my bed

writing this

the rains

are blowing

the emptiness

about in my life

the world lush and green

waits like a shy bride

and I see nothing

but the endless

haunted road

its beauty

its terror

and sigh

and in my mind

I see lorries go by

and think

will I go like this

into the night

full of stars

will I roar free

into the dark

will I tell the moon

horn ok please.

And Now To Defreeze

the mind

under the melting sun

why it smells so strongly of leaves

earth has taken residence

in your mouth

your eyes see endless green rivers

and the sun

how it beats down on your head

carrying lines of poetry

between the continents

how we drink of it

and come alive

and then the world is no more

it leaves us and goes away

we breathe we just breathe

because we need to

and now when the stars come out

in the sky

you realise you can’t move

you are neither awake nor asleep

you can really do nothing

except stare at the moon

an old homeless lady haunted

how she appears slowly

by your window

peering in.

Riding The Grey Crest,

the grey acres of the city,

the mind’s misses…

 

Who can tell you

what is what dear

returning home

at night.

 

With this grey road ahead

in the oncoming traffic

in the weariness that dies

in this noise…

 

We become ghosts

to ourselves…

Strangers passing by

in the dark.

 

 

The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).

Now The Dimness

has become a black stone

this is dawn

this mountain

behind which the sun rises

come steam in the desert city

of skulls and ships

see how the heat

scorches life

to rust

in this harbour

these white pigeons

how they sit at the parapets

and coo

what do they say

the barking dogs

the noise of the vehicles

have burnt my mind

to cinders

and the crows the sparrows

what are they saying

I hear the storm

rising in the red earth

and watch how the dust whirls

and at night now

the cacophony rises

the demons come out

dancing with wild abandon

their red tongues out

thirsting for rain.

The Elephant Men

outside the bar

do not see the buildings

falling from the dark sky

in a row they stand whispering

while we walk

everywhere the darkness appears

and stands still

till it is drunk by our eyes

and the rickshaws speeding

slowing in pools of their own light

drive through these empty streets

back into the sky

where the night today

has no stars no moon

no light to show.

 

The above poem is from my second book Circling the Sky (2013).

I Was Walking

down the streets

bored with myself

the shops the buildings

in the evening light

looked even more bored

with themselves

my hands were chilled

with loneliness

my mind was lost

in isolation

then I saw the moon

tailing me

I turned down a road

and there it was

a few paces behind

and when I finally

entered a bar

and went up the stairs

it rolled over my shoulder

and died in my drink.

Left Blue

by brown-and-cream trains

red BEST buses

I travel in black-and-yellow autorickshaws

taxis

through the neon burning

green orange fluorescent

pink

and think how much the withered darkness holds…

how the broken stars’ sob stories

keep the golden sand

awake at night

and the sea sniffling…

 

The above poem is from my second book Circling the Sky (2013).