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.