Wednesday, November 30, 2016

මා ඔබ සමඟ

මා ඔබ සමඟ ප්‍රේමයෙන් වෙලී
ඔබ මා සමඟ ප්‍රේමයෙන් වෙලී
මහත් වූ තෘප්තියෙන් සිටින යුගයක
මා ඈ පිළිබඳව ලියූ කව්
ඔබ ඔහු කෙරේ ප්‍රේමයෙන් වෙලෙන්න ට
ඔහු ඔබ කෙරේ ප්‍රේමයෙන් වෙලෙන්න ට
ඔබ මා දමා ඔහු වෙතට යවන්න ට
මා ඔබ කෙරේ මේ විලස බලන්න ට
කෙසේ නම් සමත් වී ද...
මා නැති ලොවක
ඔබ සතුට
මට
දුකකි - සතුටකි
දෙකින් එකකි

ආත්මාර්ථයෙහි ද
ප්‍රේමයෙහි ද
උපත
එකම උල්පතෙකි.

අරුණෝදයක

අරුණෝදයක
පහන් සිළුවෙකි
රිද්මය අමතක ව
රඟන

මොහොතකට පෙර
සෝබර මසිත
සෝබන සඳින්
පිරුණ

එනමුදු අරුණ
කළුවර දෙරණ
ආලෝකවත්
කරන

ඉතින් පන්සිළු සබඳ
ඔබ නර්තනය
නැවතත් අවැසි
නොවන

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

This is Definitely Not About The Environment or Animals

This is not a poem about the dead and dying children of Syria;
this is about our Friday night party culture alone

This is not about the ever increasing list of black people shot dead by the police in the States;
this is just about the alcohol induced fun and joy we have on the weekend

This is not about the underpaid third world workers who provide us with almost everything;
this is about all that ‘everything’ that they provide us with

This is not about our fellow humans being treated like trash for their skin colour, sex, accents, disabilities, religion or any differences;
this is about having to wait in line to get into malls on boxing day to get the best deals

This is not about child marriages, wars, epidemics, human cruelty, or destruction plaguing our world;
this is about the lack of clubs we could go to on a Saturday night because this is a boring city

This is not a poem about this dehumanized carbon waste of a generation.
This is about us.

Ocean

You are a vast
Ocean

And I
- from ashore -
am mesmerized
by the waves
crashing against
the sandy shore;
rhythmically random

Yet there is
so much
unexplored
beauty
within
the dark depths
of yours
that I may never
see

You are
the unreachable
ever present
horizon
under which
even the
sun
disappears

And my love
for you
is
selfish

Monday, November 28, 2016

drowning

Drowning 
within the depths 
of your eyes,
I see stars
- lifeless - 
that once roamed
the universe
mighty and
free

A beautiful
Beautiful
graveyard.

Imagination?

You can’t be
an imagination
of mine
for I am not capable
of imagining
something so pure
and beautiful

But you can’t be
real either;
this world cannot
bear the weight
of such an exquisite
essence

Mountains melt
in front of your eyes
and oceans
turn into vapour

And I
would love to
die by your feet
just to be born
to die there
again and
again
and
again.

Friday, November 25, 2016

සිසිල අමතක වෙලා

උන්මත්ත හේමන්ත ගගන ගිනි අැවිලිලා
සද්ධන්ත වළා ගැබ රඹ රසින් බොඳ වෙලා
අවදාත මිහි මතද කසාවත් අැමිණිලා
විදුලි මිණි පහන් එළි සිසිරයම සරසලා

ගී ගයන සමනල්ලු ටිකෙන් ටික නැති වෙලා
ඉගිල්ලෙන සියොත් කැළ දකුණතට පියඹලා
සීතලට ගල් ගැසුණු ජීවිතය හැඩිවෙලා
පාලුවට එළි සමය සඳැස අතපසු වෙලා

ශෘංගාර මංපාර අතරමඟ පැටලිලා
සංසාර ගංතීරයක අසල නැවතිලා
මන්දාරමක එතුණු තුෂර කැටි දෙස බලා
සන්තානයෙහි ගිලෙමි සිසිල අමතක වෙලා

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Abstract?

Poetry is.
I am.
Not.

සඳ මඩල යට

සඳ මඩල යට තනිවුන
නිදි නොමැති රතු දෙනයන
රඹ අඹර දුර පරයන
මත වෙසෙති වෙල විලසින

සිත අගක හිඳ මතුවෙන
සිට පහණ නොම ලියවෙන
විහ මතදි පිරි ඉතිරෙන
කවි පදක රස අපමන

පුර රුසිර නිස පුරවන
දුර එපිට වුව බබලන
සිත දොවන තම පරදන
දිවි පිඬකි මන සනසන

පිපි කුසුම දෝතට ගෙන
සිඹ විඳිති ධූ විසිරෙන
මළ මලක දිවි තතු ගැන
තව කුමට මේ විවරණ

O Ophelia!

O Ophelia,
what a miserable life you had!
the tragedy of yours
lies not in your death
but in your motherless being…

Wretched are all those souls
who romanticize your
death
and the circumstances
with which you lived

A single little Daisy
- in a field of Rue, Fennel
and Columbines -
whose strings were pulled by
its own father,
its own brother,
and its own lover;
made use of
for their own little schemes

O you wilted Violet,
- even the one you loved,
who claim to have loved you back!
what is the use of
repentance
when your life is no more?

Do Rosemaries grow near
nunneries?
living in the shadows of
queens
and under the wings of
kings and
men with no titles

A motherless instrument
bound by duty and kinly love
forgetting yourself
for the greater 'good'
driven mad by love and sorrow
and guilt and misery;
a big pawn in a
little game

Wretched are all the
Poloniuses, Laerteses,
all the Hamlets
Gertrudes and Claudiuses
in this world

Wretched are the lives
of all the Ophelias
of our time...

Wretched is myself
who pity you
for being born in
this wretched world

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

love?

Love
- like every other
emotion
a human feels -
is
momentary

And the
moment's
gone

Monday, November 21, 2016

The skies are orange again

Orange skies and snow
Tall buildings and streetlights
Frozen fingers and sex
People - people - people
Empty cars and busy streets
Busy cars and empty streets
Solitude and romance
Heaters and open windows
Blankets and cold wind
Quietness and endless orange clouds
Stars - death - decay
You and me
Me.

Sunday, November 20, 2016

Minds

Lines on a table and twenty dollar bills rolled into rolls
spec by spec the dust disappearing into the night sky
magicians given their powers and singers given voices
I see the best minds of my generation dancing on their knees

Adult torsos in suits with whiskey on ice in their hands
sitting around on tables adjacent to the centre stage
chatting with their nonexistent heads about political correctness
I see the best minds of my generation up and down the pole

Waiting in line for the receptionist to call your name at some point
reading random magazines on the table top looking at death on TV
talking to doctors, therapists, counselors about daily dosages of whatever
I see the best minds of my generation masking their minds with pills

Between the pages of textbooks and notes taken with bad handwriting
spending nights at libraries and in front of computers at labs
chugging caffeine all day, all night, all life for the brain to not shut down
I see the best minds of my generation numbing themselves in front of screens

In the wrong side of history because those with power said so
physics and chemistry and engineering and applied math
in factories and underpaid or in prisons or their faith is the wage
I see the best minds of my generation dissolving into numbers

At rallies and protests and hunger strikes under tear gas
in front of rubber bullets and pain and intense passion
behind bars for weeping about dead brothers and sisters
I see the best minds of my generation bound and whipped and broken to pieces

At bars, on rooftops, on empty pools, on the road, on parks and benches
on alcohol, on weed, on adderall, on molly, on morphine, on heroin, on life,
at parties, at clubs, at school, at lectures, at home, in jail, in rehab, at work
I see the best minds of my generation losing their minds

Saturday, November 12, 2016

සිතිවිලි

අපිලිවෙල
අසංවර
සිතිවිලි දැහැනක්
අාකාශගතව
අතවනයි

බැලු බැල්මට ම
නොපෙනෙන
පුංචි ම පුංචි
තිතක්
විලසට

අෑතට අෑතට
අැදෙන
එ් පුංචි තිත
දෝතට ගන්න
වෙහෙසෙමි

එනමුදු
එ් සිතිවිල්ලෙහි
හිමිකම
නිදහස් නීලාවකාශයට ම මිස
මගේ දෝතට
නොව

පාව යන්නට ඉඩ හරිමි
මට අත වන වනා
හෙමිහිට,
දිගටම...

Sunday, November 6, 2016

Lake

You are a still lake
at midnight
on which
the full moon shines
bright and beautiful

and I am
a blind corpse
floating on it.

Saturday, November 5, 2016

You

You are an
unfinished can of beer
left over at a party
that the host
has to get rid of
the next morning.

Friday, November 4, 2016

සබඳ

සබඳ
මම උත්ථානය
කළෙමි.

මේ කව්
මෝක්ෂගත වීමට පෙර
වූ අවසන්
පියවරයි.

ඔබ තවම
උකුත් වී ද
නැති.

ප්‍රේමය

ප්‍රේමය
සන්නාසියෙකි,

අපි
අතරමං ළමෝ
වෙමු.

දෑස්

සිපිරිගෙයකි
නටඹුන් වූ;
එබැවින්
අතැර යාහැකි
නමුදු
මඟහල නොහැකි