poetry online

Choose to perish
when I love you the most.

Other moments won’t be
quite favorable

and all moments aren’t ‘moments’
for humans
who know how to hate.

I will either forget your death
or remember it
to the extent of isolation.

I will cage you in glass
and claim, I have preserved you.

You will smile
the most handsome smile,

even more than the one
when you were alive.

How can I let live

and how can you expect
to prolong your stay

when you had me make you

so fragile.

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spring break
on leafless branches
fallen snow

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I called you from
Where I was sure
You could listen to me
To tell me if
You would grant me
My desire about the colour
And character of which
You are aware even now
Though it is a different matter
That you have made up your mind
To leave me to my lot
And to my efforts to secure for me
My rescue and relief
Since like always
Even this time
My succour you’re aware
Shall brand your help
As redundant and clueless.

I wish I had handled things better. They
wouldn’t have walked all over me. I burn

with regret, recycling the ways I didn’t act
and the ways I should’ve. But this is wrong

thinking, I decide, as my ego sits in the dock
awaiting my ex officio ruling. I rise in my

judicial robes, pajamas and slippers beneath,
and read the verdict: I find you were not weak.

You should get off your own case. Stop beating
up on yourself. Rejoice that you are a poet whose

weapons are words. (I point at felons in orange
jumpsuits outside). You’re not one of them.

Sounds in the morning
splash of water
honk of vehicles
motor and scooter rides
corpulent father
with corpulent daughter
the milkman arrives
with a thud or bang
grimaces, I search for a pen
my bag, another day
as the newspaper rolls in
outside I clutch
at faded memories
like my denims
fading in sun.

Admitting it would be an injustice, it would be cruel and typical to assume that there is only so much inspiration that you could give me. You see, its like the glass that you drank champagne from, suddenly after the fourth sip the glass looses its luster, it turns lukewarm, and now there is a stain on your shirt from your careless drunk behavior. The same way, you find out who someone is after some time, you find out who your lover is and you realize you can’t keep drinking because you’re going to wind up too drunk to get home. So you move on to the next habit, and you leave the club and light up a cigarette. Sometimes you get too used to them, or the buzz wears off, or worse it makes you sick. Sometimes I hate to write about you so much, I would rather paint a world where you are good and decent, not so cruel and typical. My lungs can’t handle the smoke anymore, so I put out my cigarette and keep the lighter, but I have nothing left to light, so I make my way home, with yet another habit, a little more numb and hoping that tomorrow I will be able to make it to the art store after work to buy some new colors and start a new painting, or at least quit smoking.

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