Saturday, October 14, 2017

ඇගේ ගී

මේ ඇගේ ගී නිසල වෙන යාමය ද
සසල තුරුපත් අතරමග
මිහිරි සුමිහිරි ඇගේ රාවය ද
නොනිවි දෙසවන් අසල වන

Sunday, May 28, 2017

Bodies

How many bodies
do you want me to pile up
before you are
well and truly mine?

You knew very well
all along that
I was all yours
even before I nailed
the first coffin shut

What is it that you desire
from all the sins I collect
What is it that you enjoy
in all this blood I spill
What is it that you seek
in my murderous pale hands

I was always a sinner myself
from way before I first met you;
What is it that you gain by
moulding my sins
to the shapes of your choice

If it means that you are
eventually gonna be completely mine
I will rack up body after body after body
for my heart doesn't tire in pursuit of you

I am only running out of places
on my wrists to slit.

I want my heart to be broken by you

I want my heart to be broken by you
After I fall madly in love
To the point where I don't remember
What a world without you
As the centre of it, is anymore

I want you to leave
Completely without reason
After we've created sunshine
And rain and rainbows
Among the barren meadows
Of the vast wastelands
Our hearts had become
Before we met each other

I want you gone
When the sun is at it's peak
When the rain pours down the hardest
When you and I are the happiest
And I want my heart
To explode into multiple tiny pieces
And my entire soul to be deformed
Due to collateral damages

Maybe my heart is
Already exploding for you

Maybe all I'm trying to say is that
I really want you
Even if you were to
Leave my heart in
Powdery shatters

haiku (33)

Wish you are not sick
The party won't be as lit
When you are not here

You are a great lake

Shining in the bluest of blues,
You are a great lake
and in the vastness
of your immense glory
I, with my soul and body
not intact, am drowning

My limited sight
bound by my humanly anguish
can only gaze as far as
the foamy lake waves
crashing against the shore
which mesmerize me
through their irregular meditation

But as I drown and drown
and struggle for each breath
filling my lungs with You...
I experience the great depths
of beauty, hidden within
the trenches and deep waters
Unexplored in you

I am just a spec of dust
disappearing beneath your magnitude

Miracles

We are so small
With our conceptual high rises
Hovering over the heavy air

Our eyes too blurry
To focus on anything beyond
Our own little personal bubbles

And the air smells like magic
With distant chatter and indistinct laughter
Dispersing into the atmosphere

But we, in our individual selves
Are only specs of dust
In this great old suburban desert
Waiting for miracles to happen

But miracles only happen to
Those who make them happen

haiku (32)

Why do you do this
Why did you have to come here
Gorgeous heart wrecker!

Untitled

Structure - Degrees - Careers
Jobs - Resumes - Boredom
Disappointment - Sorrow - Pain
Raindrops - Snow - Summer
People - Sex - People
Love - Heartbreak - Love
Heartbreak - Love - Heartbreak
People - Careers - Structure
Sex - Disappointment - Pain
Heartbreak - heartbreak - heartbreak
You - me - done
Love - You - love

haiku (31)

Could you stay afar?
My knees tremble under your
Misty amber eyes

haiku (30)

Please please keep raining
I want to get washed away
Your smile is painful

sinking

I am sinking
in her bathbomb eyes
and her deep brine tears
as I jumped into the
deep end of her
late fall heart

not knowing how to swim
yet.

would I

Now, you bring a smile to my lips
whenever I think of you
and I cannot keep my mind off you
but when it really comes down to it
would I really fight for you?
I want to set fire to
the image of you in my head
before it completely freezes
my head and successfully
ends up destroying me

windowpane

Water dripping down the windowpane
drop by drop by drop
and my tea getting colder and colder
sitting on my table in solitude
lights beaming in the distant city-scape
colours fading in the polluted rainy skies
and my mind losing itself, sinking
further and further into these untrodden territories 
as you roam the corners o my heart
that I didn't know existed

haiku (29)

I want good ice-cream
Finally it's warm enough!!
WHERE IS MY WALLET!!!!!???!!!

haiku (28)

In break at work now
Not enough syllables here
To dock all my thoughts

haiku (27)

I want to tango
To the rhythm of your heart
Two steps at a time

haiku (26)

Drowning in your eyes
That amber glow fills my lungs
This death is so sweet

haiku (25)

You kept me sleepless
Thinking and dreaming of you
Legs, eyes and that voice!

purgatory

Concrete monsters hovering over this realm
we are stuck in a low budget indie film
we do not understand what we speak if not for these subtitles
subtitles from a strange language we do not understand
we barely comprehend what is real and what is not
and if not for this perfect cinematography in this dream
we'd rather be stuck in purgatory and be there forever
or is this what purgatory is?

(im)pure

Pure hearts and impure thoughts
pure drugs and impure highs
pure friends and impure foe
pure foe and impure friends
pure mouths and impure ears
pure ears and impure mouths
pure smiles and impure tears
pure tears and impure smiles
pure highs and impure drugs
pure thoughts and impure hearts

haiku (24)

Please don't stop smiling
You rid the skies of dark clouds
Gorgeous - Sunshine - You

self portraits

As expected
I struggle to write these words
but somewhere
between these lines
she will be smiling
and it will easily be
the best smile you have ever seen

And of course
I drown and drown
between her eyes
stopping not
for a single gasp
of a dying breath

with her post impressionist
self portraits
all over my dreams

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

ප්‍රේමණීය කිවිඳියෙනි,

ප්‍රේමණීය කිවිඳියෙනි,
ඔබට මා අත්පිස්නාවක් ම
පමණෙකිද?

කුඩ නොමැති වැසි දිනෙක
දෙපා නෙක පටලැවී
සිතිවිලි මඩ වගුරක
ඇද වැටුනු රුදු මොහොතක

දෑත් මත පැටලැවුනු
ඛේදණීය වේදන මඩ කැබලිති
පිසලන්න පමණක්ම
ඔබ භාවිතා කරලන

නොකිලිටි,
මොහොතකින් කිලිටි වන,
අත් පිස්නාවක්ම පමණෙකිද
මම

ප්‍රේමණීය කිවිඳියෙනි ඔබ හට...

Saturday, April 22, 2017

Reminiscing

Nothing much has changed
afterall,
I mean I still
have a largely empty
refrigerator
and walk around in my
boxers at home
all the time

I still cook pasta
and take showers with
my bathroom door open

The only difference, I guess, is
that there is no
little naked lady
appearing through the door
brushing her teeth at the sink
and hopping in the shower with me

           Every morning

                            Anymore

love and war

Now I would be lying
if I say that I didn't
see your love burn
beneath the ashes and
if I say that I didn't
wish that the fire
caught on and exploded
like it eventually did

I just happen to be collateral damage

Can't really complain
as I willingly walked
on a minefield myself

Everything is fair in love and war right?

Right?

හින්ට් ගැහුවේ මටද හාමුදුරුවනේ

දුරුතු පෝයට
පන්සලේ
එදා බණ කියද්දි
නොතේරෙන හැමෝටම
තේරෙන්න
හින්ට් ගැහුවේ මටද
හාමුදුරුවනේ

එක එකා ගමේ උන්
හැරී හැරී බලනකොට
සිල් රෙදි පොරෝගෙන
අඬන්නද කියන්නේ

ඒ බලපු උන්,
උන්ගේ මිනිස්සු
අඬ අඬා මගේ කාමරේ
මයේ එක්ක ලගිනකොට
එලවගන්නද කියන්නේ

කොහෙ කොහේ මොන මොනවා
ඇන්දත් නො ඇන්දත්
පන්සලට ගොඩ වුනේ
සිල් රෙදි පිටින්
හාමුදුරුවනේ

අව්වට වැල්ල රස්නෙයි..
මයේ කකුල් පිච්චෙන්නෙත්
උන්ගෙ පිච්චෙනවා වගේමයි

මයේ එක්ක ගමේ උන්
එක එකා දොඩවන මගුල්
පන්සලට විත් කියන්නද
අපේ හාමුදුරුවනේ

ඇඟ පතේ ඇති රුදා
පන්සලෙන් අරිනවද,
උන් තාම ලෞකිකයි...

මයේ කඳුලු පිටවෙලා හුඟක් කල්

ඇනුම් පද කිව් මුල් කෙනා
ඔබ වහන්සේ නෙවෙයි
හාමුදුරුවනේ

Thursday, April 20, 2017

Your sweaty palms
and bloodshot eyes

My bloodshot eyes
and goosebumps

This herbal aroma
and floating ecstasy

For a moment I wish you were mine
and then I don't.

Red Flags

I got a warm heart
and a pocket full of red flags

And on every new territory I explore
I plant those red flags
one flag at a time

I can't tell if it is
your rose coloured glasses
or whether you are actually colourblind

Because you,
just like she did once upon a time
walk right past, overlooking them
as if you don't see them at all

My heart freezes

haiku (23)

Stuck inside this mall
Watching people walk in swarms
How are you special

Unlive my life

I wish I can
unlive my life

Unlive 
the quiet snowfalls
and the rumbling
thunderstorms
of the summer

I wish I could
unlive these
concrete landscapes
and the vivid
hues of autumn

The fragrance of
the blossoming spring
and he serene sounds
of live music

But mostly
I want to
unlive
you

and in turn
unlive
myself

Early spring

Within the
early spring
greyscale
concrete dullness

in between the
underexposed
discoloured landscapes

with unsaturated pines
and leafless
everything else

under the
under-designed
cement cubes of
downtown architecture

You
do not
fade away
in your crimson jacket
and your
violet smile

haiku (22)

Invisible you
Would you let me taste your lips
and that dark lipstick?

haiku (21)

Coca cola world
Buying pizza drunk is fun
You are so pretty

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

පුර අඟනාව

පුර හඳ ගාව
ඉඟි බිඟි පෑව
මෙලොවට නාව
පුර අඟනාව

දිලිසෙන දෑස
සැමදෙන ආස
පසිඳු විදේස
වලද විසේස

මධුවිත සාද
සුමිහිරි නාද
මැද ඔය පාද
නැටවෙනවාද

එක එක පාට
ෆැෂන් කරාට
කළුවර රෑට
පේන්නෙ කාට

නොදැනෙන සේම
ඉඟි කෙරුවාම
තම හැම දේම
මතකද තාම

Thursday, April 13, 2017

සසඳ

පන්හිඳ මතට සිතිවිලි දිය ගලනකොට
පරසිඳු මුකුළු කවුළු දොරින් හමනකොට
එක්ටැම් ෆ්ලැට් වලට වී ගගනත දෙසට
බලනෙමි තරිඳු විසිරෙනු තරු කරලියට

සබඳ නිබඳ සඳ ලඟ ඔබ ගැවසුනිද
සුවඳ හමන කුසුමෙකි රූසිරු නොමඳ
නොදැන ඔබ කලණ ඔබ තව ලතැවුනිද
සබඳ ඔබ සඳෙකි තවමත් සැඟවුනිද

සසඳ, සසඳ ගගනත දිය හැලෙනකොට
සසඳ, සසඳ ඔබමය බිමැසිය මතට
සසඳ සසඳ එම සඳ මෙම සඳ එකට
සසඳ ඔබ පහන නිවුනිද පහණතට

Monday, April 10, 2017

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

haiku (19)

Betrayals and pain
Slow death hurts the insides more
Still beautiful

haiku (18)

Calming melodies
The wind calls for a slow dance
Before it howls loud

You

You
are a
non Newtonian
fluid

Flowing
at your own
accord
disregarding
all classical
rules of
viscosity

But
disfiguring
under
shear
stress

Monday, April 3, 2017

Karma?

You called yourself
a shipwreck
like the titanic

But I think
you are more like the
iceburg
that the titanic
struck against

Melting away
day by day
due to
global warming

O your sadistic dungeon of a heart!

Do you think
you need all those
hooks and chains
mounted on the walls
of the chambers
of your heart
to hold me
in there?

My
non-masochistic
knees
are already
on its
floor.

You and I / Me and You

How is it that
my heart melts
like ice cubes
in a microwave
at your
cosmopolitan demeanor

weakening my knees
and tilt shifting
my whole world
but you

a bright
crimson smudge
on a greyscale
concrete landscape

and I,
from the sidelines
die,
and I die,
and I die some more
as you go on
living your
synthetic dreams
As our heartbeats
synchronize
there is a strange sort of
meditation
between one beat
and another

making me waltz
to the rhythm of your hips
over the hymns
of your breaths
slowly kissing my lips

Thursday, March 30, 2017

ප්‍රේමය

ඇඳ ඇතිරිලි
අපිලිවෙළ කරවන
මඳ අඳුරකි
ප්‍රේමය

21-03-2017

You are like the first day of spring
warm and bright until it starts raining
over the naked trees and muddy ground
damp from the melting late winter snow

You are the fine line between cringe and comfort,
between the cold and warmth, end and beginning

          You are the angel of cold decay and warm hope.

Smiles

Smiles are misleading,
Misleadingly powerful

Even when they occur
Blurrily across a tea store
When you aren't wearing your glasses

They may make your heart skip beats
They may fluctuate the balance of your oxygen intake
They may increase your endorphin levels

But
Do not forget

Smiles are powerful
Powerfully misleading

Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Fragrance

I love your smell.
The smell of jasmine
And cigarettes

A combined
Embodiment
Of the fake you
And the
Real

Monday, March 27, 2017

Poetry

Poetry to me
is like a 
handleless
double edged knife
that I use to
slit my wrists
horizontally

Saturday, March 25, 2017

Some Nights

Some nights
live for
the rest of your
life

Some nights
are never
born

Sax Solo

She's like a saxophone solo
She's like a saxophone solo by Alanna Sterling at Live on Elgin
We are on our way out at 1AM to catch our last bus when this hypnotic-magentic sax solo clamps our ears and drags us back inside
She's like that saxophone solo

She's like the sunset
She's like the sunset at Nepean Point
She's like the sunset behind the Gatineau Hills which paints the sky with Monet-esque golden hues which I see, observe, experience, live, one quiet Autumn evening sitting under the Champlain Statue

She's like an afternoon breeze
She's like a cool afternoon breeze on a warm summer day
She's like the refreshing, invigorating, gentle river wind while taking one of those regular strolls on the Prince of Wales Bridge

She's like a thunderstorm
She's like a thunderstorm in early February
A thunderstorm which rumbles over the Britannia Beach as we watch over from a nearby skyscraper
A thunderstorm sandwiched between two 15cm snow storms

She's like the spring
She's like the best parts of the spring
She's like the birds chirping to the melodies of the wind or the naked trees budding light green for a new beginning or the smell; the smell of life after a season of frosted death or the freshness and the warmth of the spring
She's like the tulip festival

Afterall
when I really think about it,
She's a bit like this city
A little boring, a little small, a little conservative, a little closed up, and a little repetitive (kinda like this poem actually)
But if you look a little closely, you'd see that she is full of life. 
She is full of music and poetry and art
She is the centre of culture and she is the oil paint in an oil painting

And I guess, just like this city
I kinda like her
because
She's like magic
or a saxophone solo

සිතිවිලි II

මා මඟහල
සිතිවිලි අහුරක්
අමතමි,

නාස් පුඩු අගින්
ගිලිහුණු
දුම්වැටි දුමක් මෙන්

වා තලයට නැඟී
මියැදී
මැකී යන්නට 
මත්තෙන්

මේ කඩදාසි 
පිටුව මත
ලියැවෙනු මැනවි...

ඒ නටඹුන් මත්තෙහි
මා මියැදීම
වෙනුවෙන්
She had
the kind of eyes
that enlighten
the darkest corners
of my heart
like lightening
sparks

Friday, March 24, 2017

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

One-two, one-two, one-two, one-two,
I count the beats standing next to the bar
The bar is crowded but the beats don't seem to add up
I take another shot of whiskey and the haze around my eyes disappear for a moment
I take that moment to gaze around at the sight of disco lights obstructed by the sweaty shoulders in my personal bubble

I look up
There are lights flashing
A millisecond of bright lights after a millisecond of darkness after a millisecond of brightness
It seems as if all the souls jampacked between these walls are stuck in some sort of a trance

One-two, one-two, one-two, one-two,
I still can't count the beats
tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock,
I see time fly past me as I buy another shot of watered down whiskey

Each shot smoother than the last
Each breath heavier than the last

I take a step away from the bar towards the dance floor
Everywhere was the dance floor
I take one step and my personal bubble behind me gets filled with strangers

I sigh
I feel my breath approaching my nostrils
I feel sigh leaving my nostrils
It adds to the carbon dioxide density in the room
It is warm inside

I take another step
I see a girl with her eyes closed
She has her arms to her sides
She has her head leaning slightly backwards
She has her hips moving, sideways, from left to right to left to right to left
I see another girl with her eyes closed
I see another girl with her eyes closed

One-two, one-two, one-two, one-two,
At this point I should just give up
This counting beats thing isn't working
Copy-paste, copy-paste, copy-paste
I see a few girls with their eyes closed
I see a few guys with their eyes closed
I see a few guys looking at the-girls-with-their-eyes-closed
I see a few guys looking at the girls, with their eyes closed
I see a few girls smiling and I see a few guys smiling

I see a few couples dancing together
I see a few strangers dancing together

Copy-paste, copy-paste copy-paste
People at the bar dancing, people at the dance floor dancing, people in the line to the coat check dancing

And I see the red dressed, red lipsticked, black haired you... dancing

Thursday, March 9, 2017

Tombstone

When I die,
Leave my tombstone blank.

Do not write my given name on it
Avoid my birth year altogether and ignore the year of my death

Do not mentally note whatever name you recognize me with whenever you visit it, if you visit at all
Do not paint a picture for any random passer by to recognize the dead soul inside that grave with

Let that tombstone celebrate the carbon waste of an arbitrary human life lived and done
Do not give personality to decaying chemical matter

Do not mourn the life I lived
Do not mourn the life I didn't live

Afterall, what is in a name?
Afterall, what is in an ever changing chunk of carbon?

A life well lived would last forever on its own
Why is there a need to create random memorabilia?

When I die,
Do not even have a tombstone

Do not let my remains remain. Let them go.

If anything, if you really want to keep something, make a little grave in some empty dark corner in your heart and put my name on it.

And if you really really want, take that grave to yours.

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

සිසිරයකි සමුගැනෙන

අසනි වැසි ඇද හැලෙන
තුෂර කැටි නොම රැඳෙන
අකුණු දෙරණත ගැටෙන
සිසිරයකි සමුගැනෙන

කණ්ටකය දෙදරවන
අන්ධ හද සසලවන
දුබල නෙතු තෙත කරන
සීතලකි අතැර යන

මීදුමට නොම පෙනෙන
අඳ බැවින් නොම දකින
පත් නොමැති තුරු සෙවන
සා හරිත දළු දමන

අඳුරු මුත් මුළු දෙරණ
රඹැතිමය පෙර ගගන
සැරිය තුරු හිරු නගින
කෙනෙකි අතැඟිලි ගණින

Sunday, March 5, 2017

Dissect Me

Dissect me
Like a frog in biology class
Find my softest and most vulnerable spots and master my insides.
Locate where my lungs are, where my brain might be and most importantly, find where my heart is
Everything you will observe there is devoted to you

Embrace me
Embrace me like your best friend’s cat you have to take care of
during the first week when she is gone to Cuba
That millisecond of care would be a lifelong moment of warmth to me. This winter is cold.

Crack me open
Crack me open like an unborn chicken at a breakfast restaurant bought from some local farm.
I hide behind this thick shell and you are the only one I would open myself up for. But I do not have the courage to do so myself.

Clip my wings
Like a Brazilian scarlet macaw
and cage me in a tight space somewhere inside your heart
I would give up all my civil liberties just to roam around the depths of your soul and observe the hidden galaxies and nebulae and supernovae in there.

Slaughter me
Like your companion camel while lost in a desert
I am no masochist but I would sacrifice myself for your comfort and happiness at any given time.
What is the point of my existence if it is not to serve you.

Unsex me here
Like the raven himself who is hoarse
Except don’t. Just don’t do that

And just kill me if you have to
Like a mosquito on your skin, or a lobster at a hotel tank, or a fish stuck on a fishnet, or a moose in a hunting range, or an elephant at a reserve, or a hamster at a lab, or a whale in the sea
I would gladly, gladly die at your hands if that is what you desire

But at least let those animals live.

       Maybe.

              You know.

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

A letter to my former, present, or future self/dude!

Dude,
See you are here
Where else would you rather be?
I know you've been there done that maybe a dozen million times
I know you hate this perpetual boredom
I know you hate routine
I know you hate repitition
I know you hate repitition
I know you hate repitition

But what is so bad with waking up?
Why do you want to not breathe so badly?
What is wrong with seeing a Clementine dawn after a carbon monoxide laced night covered by tangerine clouds?
Why don't you just look outside at these multiple concrete dildos standing tirelessly as far as the horizon?
Why don't you look at the graduate factory to the south to which you belong but you do not belong belong?
Why don't you just try to enjoy the petroleum excrements that you breathe in every breath?

Dude,
See you are here
I know you didn't ask to be here
I know you never wanted to be here
But dude, you FUCKING are here
And why not make the best out of it?

Between the big bang
And supersonic land travel
There must have been billions of butterflies who flapped their wings to get you to where you are today
To get this useless "perfect" little planet to where it is today

So why don't you or I or you or whomever it may apply to just fucking breathe the air you can breathe until you can breathe it and for a second, a millisecond, a microsecond, a nanosecond be grateful

Because,
You privileged little shit,
You made it,
And billions did not.

Monday, February 27, 2017

I am not a poet

I am not a poet
I am not a poet because poetry does not come naturally to me
I have to put my blood, sweat and tears to write a piece and just like in every other facet of my life, I hate the fact that I have to work for it

I am not a poet
I am not a poet because I am unoriginal, inauthentic and disingenuous
I don’t think there is a single thought that crosses my mind that is not a fabrication of the society I live in, the media, my acquaintances, my friends and my family

I am not a poet
I am not a poet because I did not have to struggle to get to where I am today
I was born to an upper middle class family in a country laced with poverty and had a supportive childhood until my dad became a diplomat and ended up here
My struggle is not real

I am not a poet
I am not a poet because on my regular sleepless nights, I sometimes wish for a tragedy
Sadness seems to be more interesting than this perpetual boredom I am stuck in and more than anything else, tragedy sells
And I am trying to sell myself

I am not a poet because I am a fraud and I know it
But it’s too good to throw it all away, anyone would do the same
And I’ve got ‘em going, and I am careful not to show it
Sometimes I even fool myself a bit, it’s like magic

I am not a poet because I plagiarized the last two lines directly from my favourite Gotye song

I am not a poet
I am not a poet because I am all skin and no flesh
Before my ex and I started dating, when she was still my best friend, she told me that she loves it when artists break up because that is usually when they produce their best work
When she broke up with me to start a relationship with my best friend, she and I sat down beside the stinky, dried up canal and laughed at how we should both be inspired now

Wait was that me calling myself an artist?
This is why I am not a poet
A hipster isn’t a hipster as soon as they call themselves a hipster right?

I am not a poet because I victimise myself
I am not a poet because my parents work hard for their money and I blow it all away on alcohol and marijuana
I am not a poet because in front of unassuming strangers, I spread my legs
I am not a poet because maybe from their perspective, they see me spread my wings instead

I am not a poet
I am not a poet because…
             
             Fuck maybe I am a poet
             Maybe that is all I have
             Maybe that is all I am
                           
                            What does it mean to be a poet anyway?

Sunday, February 26, 2017

Synthetic Hearts

Crystalline stars and polyethylene clouds
She strolled through the dense
paraffin streets at the
tangerine dusk

Her saunter with her gaze
fixed non-existently forward
serenated the onlooking swarms
as she finger picked their
nylon minds
immersed in a composite
mesmerizing muse

She made the singers weep
She made the painters bleed
She made the sculpturers melt

And the poets...
the poets are still trying to find,
in this vast concrete wilderness,
their lost semi-metallic minds
and their neon
synthetic hearts.

Friday, February 17, 2017

රිසි හසරැල්ලේය

රිසි හසරැල්ලේය නිසි කඳුලැල්ලේයා
වැසි ගඟුලැල්ලේය රිවි වියලිල්ලේයා
නොම නැවතිල්ලේය අපමණ රැල්ලේයා
හදවත අල්ලේය හිත නිවහල්ලේයා

Thursday, February 16, 2017

Haiku's on Josef Sudek

1.
Ordinary life
Looked at through a looking glass
Elegantly art

2.
Magical window
Peeping through an urban soul
Mystified beauty

3.
Momentary sights
Glimpses into the special
Ordinary heart

4.
Capturing moments
Transcending more than just time
Frozen - Eerie - Love

5.
Haunting naturale
Lens - extraordinary
Romantic poetry

Thursday, February 9, 2017

Rooftop

Dear Allen Ginsberg,


One cold wintery evening Sam and I kissed for the first time under the dying rays of distant supernovae, on the top of a 16 floor skyscraper, in front of the mummified remains of postmodernist architecture scattered as far as the horizon,
where we were buried knee deep in the freezing snow slowly turning into ice, looking at the almost luminous tangerine sky through which a lonely popular star or two tried to peep into our world in which the aesthetic had changed dramatically as we fucked it over, over the years,
where the building has been old enough to have been built in the superstitious era of the North American Modernism, skipping the 13th floor,
where emergency vehicles with their rhythmic melodies flew with sinusoidal frequency occasionally waking up the random sleeper, illuminating the streets with radiant reds and blues and whites on top of the pre-existing reds and yellows and greens,
where desultory birds drunkenly flew over the freezing spectacle of human night,
where resolute humans flew over the birds at the edge of the atmosphere at supersonic speeds (because to travel fast is important right?),
where we could see the average middle aged man sitting on his couch flicking through the channels on his flat screen television illuminating the vacant-night-air through the windows of his condo on the adjacent skyscraper,
where his wife and kids were probably asleep or didn’t exist or whatever,
where, in the next unit, the bottomless teenager, flicked through pornhub in a y-generational meditation,


where the cold wind that blew across us couldn’t awaken any goosebumps as we were wrapped in a cloak of incredible warmth radiating from our hearts, I think,
(or maybe we were just so drunk on the whiskey and rum we had been drinking for the past hour, I am not sure)
where the past and the present and the future collided into a singular point with the precision of a blackhole to create a moment of inimitability,
(at least for me, for I have no idea what she thinks of it anymore)
where I had spent and still keep spending multiple evenings, days, and nights waiting for a miracle to happen to clamp me out of this first-worldish boredom,
where we are all corroding in the machinery of false hope, working our asses off to feed someone already at the top of the ladder,
where those up there, oils the linkages (which happen to be us) to keep it working as smoothly as possible to make the most profit,
where even psychiatry has become a profitable business,
where to be suicidal has become the automatic norm and opium has become a better option than to go through a ‘regular’ day, whatever a regular day means nowadays,
where I lit a cigarette even though I don’t consider myself a smoker, and shared it with her, even though she definitely is not a smoker,
where we waded through the shallow end of this Samsara, seeking a drug induced narcotic enlightenment,
where we swam through our cardiovascular graveyards and toxic blood vessels,
where we dived deep into paralytic daydreams and parasitic nightmares,
where we drowned in a synthetic Nirvana, embarking on a psychedelic sleep only to awaken in this material world,


where I wrote poems and read them out so loud that only she could hear,
where she wrote songs and played them on my guitar and sang, so that only I could hear,
where she and I failed at school and work and “life” together and still had each other's backs,
where we let our days and nights decay, and turn into absurdist, surreal art, until the day she left, by which time I had already decomposed myself in the spectacle of social media transcendence,
where angelheaded hipsters burned for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, (thanks Allen)


where I found myself, alone, naked, beaten up, victimizing myself, when all around me, I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness.




haiku (16)

I am very sad
Fuck the world and it's bullshit
I am gonna sleep

Monday, February 6, 2017

lunch

we have lunch
surrounded by the
elderly
and those who arrived
as refugees

we talk about
death and
injustice
and how to form
meaningful relationships

all the while
eating
culturally appropriated
cuisine
and drinking
coca cola

Objections

She didn't have
any objections
- the way she did
for the objectification of
women in media -
when I wrote about
the purity of her smile
or the depth of her eyes
or the texture
of her moist lips
or the goosebumps on
her breasts
when my fingers touched
her nipples

She only ever
slid her fingertips
through my hair,
looked deep into my soul
and said,
'I love you too'

Sunday, January 29, 2017

Immunity in a Post-Larvae World

I adore the gracious rays of sun at dawn
Blinding us,
Refracting through the great silican edge of the atmosphere
Extinguishing the non-existent false obscurity
Illuminating our ecological green little fantasies

We wade through the sweet unblemished air
Amidst the uncongested lanes of the floral naturale,
Heightening the amity of the pacifist animalia
Dozed off in the caffeinated bliss of security

The horizon although vividly hazy
Circumscribes the delicately blossoming dreams
For beyond that, none exists that pleases the eye

It is the land of the predator and prey
Where the natural law is above all aesthetic allure
No wonder the divine placed this grand aerial armour
To safeguard her preeminent children from toxic Earthly anguish

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

A fire

A fire blazed through the alcohol-induced-coma of a night
Illuminating the untrodden paths of this concrete wilderness,
Flashing momentary images of memories overexposed
The blinding sparks set ablaze a monumentally modern Rome

The flames rose over the sea of unassuming cosmopolites
Standing still being devoured indiscriminately together
This was the everlasting spectacle of Borax masochism
While Nero and his kin played jazz on hip hop beats

I saw my flesh melting down and bone and bone marrow
As I surrendered my heightened senses to outworldly oblivion
There will be no recollection of the demise of this contemporary empire
But all the scorched alleyways and graffiti and murals shall remain

Monday, January 23, 2017

Thursday, January 19, 2017

art

Incomprehensible,
Undefinable,
Ever-present,
Inexpressibly beautiful,

You are art.

toxic

You are
a toxic atmosphere
in which
I would love
to suffocate and
die

Blank Canvas

I saw a blank canvas
and on it
you were smiling at me

I grabbed my pencil
and started
tracing your smile

I was never really
the skilled sketcher
I wanted myself to be

'But how hard could it be
to trace
the most beautiful smile of the world'
I thought

But when I was done
the canvas wasn't blank anymore

And

You weren't smiling.

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Haiku?

Matter over form
This haiku self contradicts
Or does it?

She did NOT dwell among the untrodden ways

She did NOT dwell among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
Her room was in the middle of the business district
Next to Chinatown.

A Maid whom there were very many to praise
But very few to love,
She kept to herself and was of a few words
No one knew her whereabouts.

The alluring queen bee of this great hive
Beneath the orange sky.
- Fair as a star among the high skyscrapers
Half hidden from the eye!

She lived in public, but only a few could know
When Lucy ceased to be,
I only found her name on her grave,
The difference to me!

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Departure

I thought your
departure
would be like
the death
of a star

Creating
vibrant dust clouds
and sending
ripples through
the fabric
of our known
universe

But it was
rather a 
quiet affair

Almost
as if you
never existed
at all

Monday, January 2, 2017

window

I love a good argument
so much more than
sitting at home
looking out the window
at afternoon raindrops
disappearing against the
windowpane
flowing down like your
teardrops
flowing down
against your cheeks...

But when you say
that it was I
who wasn't ready
for commitment
when it was you
who left me
for someone else
I'd rather look at
all those clumps of
snowflakes
calmly landing on my window
and accumulates