Sometimes

in the darkness at night there’s a movie in the sky

it’s always too good it’ll make you cry

as your life in trains and rooms go by.

 

Sometimes you’re in a train in the afternoon passing by

and the sea is so beautiful it’ll make you cry

and at night the stars come out to dance

and the moon climbs high.

 

Sometimes you’re at home all high and dry

and you’re doing some work by and by

and you see the birds fly slowly in the sky

and you look and look and quietly sigh.

 

Sometimes you’re at home sleeping at five

and you go sliding down your bed into the sea

and you wake up with the sound of your own cry.

 

Sometimes you’re on the street walking when you almost fly

and sometimes you’re bewildered that everything is a lie

hold your breath for a while that it might pass by.

 

Sometimes it’s best not to pry

and let things quietly lie

Sometimes it’s too much my oh my!

 

 

The above poem is from my third book The Branches (2015).

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My Throat Is Trench Torn

wounded soldiers

try to run

with their guns

but fail

cannon blasts

rend all asunder

politics is the speech

of the day

should a girl talk

is she a doll

is her father dead

I don’t know

I say

and try to run

although I can’t

move an inch

and the buildings

all hoarded up

like forts

and mother and child

at the window

watching waiting

all their lives

what to do

where to go

at the railway station

the heads of the people

turn 360 degrees

in the streets

I drown in my own blood

eeeeh eeeeeh

I say

and scramble for safety

and when I rush to a garden

the merry go round

makes such a noise

the sea saws

hiss like snakes

and when I look up

at the sky

I see the sun bursting

into black ash

and now the world is gone.

Thick Black Human Paste

Decomposed Himalaya human

whales roam

dinosaur days

you are a ship

in the sea

and the sky

crumples like dust

over you

and how does that feel?

imagine the entire darkness burning at once

imagine

what it would be like

just flames

and you burn

and there is nothing to do

you know this

yes I thought so

and think of zoos with yellow animals

stars sprinkling blue nights

like a mindless vacuum

hands legs eyes ears nose tongue

can you walk?

there is this lamppost in a mountain beyond your mind

they say

you can try that

walking with all the large lorries coming down the highway

you may feel the world moving

everything here is already moving now

the buildings the cities

all these people these windows these rooms

these taxis these bicycles bumping

into each other

collapsing like crazy

and you just keep walking

keep walking my friend

until your legs begin disappearing

and your body floats through air like a song fading

and your mind goes out

and there is nothing.

 

The above poem is from my third collection The Branches (2015).