The Gifting

Mayna, playing in the courtyard
Another butterfly choosy in her 
affections, her laughter glittering
like lights for the Mother Goddess.
I am sure, when she grows up
She will grow up to be an activist
Or may be even an artist
Who knows, with all the
dark shadows that shall soon
present themselves.
But that is all much later.
For now, the future shall remain
serrated on her thighs,
Her dear flesh twinkling like
newborn stars under my aching nails.

Molten Sculptures.

Every night is another separation
In the lovers' world.

Each opens the same door
and move as laden clouds
into separate worlds.
Memories freeze purple
in their earthly veins; rainy dreams
soak unslept nights into;

Sculptures of being;
Sculptures of leaving.

Every morning as they wake up,
Inside every lover there's a
Velvety casket
One buried deep within the sinews,

In another earth.

One from which someone
Always screams
"I loved you, I loved you"

And thus it is, with every night
and every day.
The lover exists but in the twilight.


Art : sculpture by Andrew Rogers; Many Lives.

No one rings the bell

No one rings the bell
At the sad house.
No kids to resonate
Within the broken panes
And desolate shards.
The green path remains , myopic
and listening as far the horizonal walls.
Vibrant blushes of mistletoe
Hug it hard ; none to kiss them
None to burn it and smoke ;
Though the scent of burnt Bibles
linger.
The temple bells do not reach here
The tall, disappointed mango trees
Eat them up.
As are the deep calls of azan`,
Absorbed by the hungry moss.
The only visitors come, wearing black,
Holding on tight to their handfuls of earth
Later, they slither away into rainbow colours
And far ; never to return, followed by the
tittering wind and the smirking sun.
Only the huntsman, searching for tombs ;
Him, with a rose at his arrow tip
Sees the river beyond,silent and waiting
Holding melting Stories, and rain murmurs inside
Seas, her breath that rises in girlish curls.
And
A tiny salmon,
Struggling against her frozen sheets.

Some metaphysical s-craps.

Leaving morsels
by the wayside
for the starving little puppy,
'Pepper' ; as was his hunger
As his tiny tail stroked
Majestic pictures onto the cold
easel of the winter night
I walked back,
Wondering
How my red bra would look like
To a hungry root of a dying tree
Reaching out as if to mother
To me, six feet under.
Would I bloom on a bough weeks later?
Or would it be just a momentary '' bow ''?

Waking up.

The two mirrors
in the room were
talking
when I woke up.

One , on how the morning wind
Changed to waves and reminded
her of a sea she once had a glimpse of,
at a beach side factory 
where she was made ;
the only memory she could filter
before silver nitrate glassed over.
the Other, pompously muttered on
the quality of the pinkish sun
and its many photogenic possibilities
only males (among them) could see.
the Floor, as usual was busy clicking
pictures of the Neem's graceful silhouettes
Emptiness fell with the first yawn.
The first shadow fell, like wet darkness
And everything else went back to sleep.

Poetic days

The day lay in
a pale stupor
like a little boy
pale with the plague
but the dusk
...stepped in
donning
vermilion dreams
night followed,
with a hookah full of
thoughts
and I lay down on the
velvet sky,picking little
stars
smoking away into
the abstract sky
only to come out of
the other end of
oblivion.

image credit:Nini terves Lapuz(http://niniteveslapuz.com)

Hashish

Self love
in shades of purple
Scattered on the floor
Entwined in the
last orgasm
of the sun
before I left ,moon-struck,
for another kind
of a high
in your embrace.
At that time,
there were seas,
rain-hungry
rumbling
deep within you and me.
Was it my imagination
Or did you really smile?
I want to know.

പേരുകളില്‍ ഒട്ടിപ്പിടിക്കുന്നത് ..

തിരക്ക്..
വായിച്ചു മടക്കിയ
പുസ്തകത്തില്‍
നിന്ന്
കാട്ടുപൂച്ചയെപ്പോലെ..

ചവച്ചരച്ച ആശയങ്ങള്‍
കുളിമുറിയിലെ സോപ്പ് വെള്ളത്തില്‍
കുതിര്‍ന്നു,
കൊളുത്തായി
കാലില്‍!
ഞാനും
അക്വേറിയത്തിലെ മീനും
ഒരു പോലെ
ശ്വാസം മുകളിലെക്കെടുത്തു,
തിരക്കിന്റെ വലയില്‍ പിടഞ്ഞു
ഉറങ്ങി..

അപ്പോളതാ !
മാളത്തില്‍ വെള്ളം കയറിയ
പാമ്പിനെപ്പോലെ,
മഞ്ഞനിറത്തില്‍..
സ്വപ്നത്തില്‍ ..

ഞെട്ടി,നിലവിളിച്ചു!
ആരുമില്ല..
നഗരം കാണാന്‍ പോയിരിക്ന്നു
നാലു ഭിത്തികളും!
മഴയെന്നിട്ടും ആവിയായി ,
കരഞ്ഞു ,കണ്ണ് ചുവന്നു
എന്‍റെ കട്ടില്പ്പടിയില്‍
തല ചായ്ച്..
ചുവരില്‍ ,ആരുടെയോ
മെഴുക്കു പുരണ്ട
വിരല്പ്പാടുകളില്‍,
ചിറകൊട്ടി
ഒരു ശലഭം..

തിരക്കരുതെന്നെ ,പേരില്ല
തിരക്ക് അരക്കായി
ഒട്ടിപ്പിടിച്ചു പോയി.

മിന്നല്‍ക്കാഴ്ച

മ'യുടെ വളവുകളില്‍
ഒരു കയറ്റം
പിന്നെ ഴ'യുടെ ഇറക്കം
ഒടുവിലൊരു നീറ്റലായി
ഒടുക്കം.
മഴ...

Lost Bohemian

Vacuum bleeding
inside parched folds
I have forgotten the
way inside my mind
Give me a puff of that
...forbidden smoke
Hold my hand in this
dazzling light
Take me to rest
from among these
frantic dance moves
I may not look lost
But I am .
Had I been held a little close,
You would have felt my heart
faint.

പ്രാന്തിപ്പാട്ട്

വാക്ക് വാ കീറും
ചോര കിനിയും
മനസ്സ് മുറിയും
വിരല് കരയും
പഴയെതെല്ലാം മരിക്കും
പുതിയതൊന്നു പിറക്കും.

വാക്കൊരു വര വരയും ,
ചെറു നുര പതയും
പിന്നൊരു വന്‍തിരയായി
അലറും
ചിറയിടിച്ചിട്ട് കുതിക്കും
അരമുള്ളോരു കടല്നാവ്
കരയാകെ മഷി കുടയും

വാക്കൊന്നുര ചെയ്യും
ഒരു തീപ്പുര പണിയും
നേര്‍വഴി തിരയു,മപ്പോള്‍
പാണന്‍ ചാണയ്ക്കു
വെച്ചൊരു പാട്ടിനീരടി
കരയും..

കരയിടിയും, ഒടുക്കം
കടല്‍ വറ്റും..
കാറ്റ് കറുത്ത മൌനത്തിലമരും
കാന്തിക വലയങ്ങള്‍
മുറിച്ചൊരു കരിങ്കല്ല്
കുന്നിന്റെ മുകളിലെ
ഭ്രാന്തന്റെ തലവര
തെളിക്കും.

Reflections

The castle is built by words
Black marble cast against a
white sky..
I am the prisoner
and the princess.

Footfalls of an Angel

Oh Springtime, will you make
your feet generous?
Make your shy blossoms
break in a riot of myriad hues?
To tread these barren acres of sand
...And give hope to those ,
In whose eyes
the sun is about to set?
Will you capture the wandering breeze
And sway, to shed his moist breaths
On to these chapped,aching lips..
Will thou join thy hands with mine?
And march together to
the red streak,
to hold the beckoning hands
when the threatening cold
strikes.

മിന്നല്‍ക്കാഴ്ച

എന്‍റെ എഴുത്തല്ല,എഴുത്തിന്റെ ഞാന്‍.

Unsaid

If fingers weaved a story
And they could speak..
Each of them
would have waxed eloquent
About
...a thousand things
that the tongue
would hesitate
to tell.

Thus rained your love

Remember the day we met
Forever?
You had the rain in your hair
You Held the musky wind
in your scent..
...When our lips did meet,
I could taste ,the husky sting
of a man unloved.
That was also the day
I came to know
What was it for the Earth
To feel the drench.

Bleeding Chalice

"..The woman is blessed
to bleed
five days a month.

To bleed
what is impure,
...what is not born,
and aborted from expression.

For she cannot ,
Bleed otherwise.
Either in her reality
Or in her dreams.

Even the Gods knew;
Open wounds infect,
Irrespective of gender.
Bless them."

രണ്ടു പട്ടിണിക്കവിതകള്‍

വിശന്ന വയറു പറഞ്ഞത്..

വിശപ്പിനെക്കുറിച്ചെഴുതുമ്പോള്‍ മഷി
കടം ചോദിക്കരുത്.
മരിപ്പിന്ടെ അടയാളങ്ങളില്‍ വിരല്‍ മുക്കി
വരഞ്ഞു നോക്കൂ..
ചില നിലവിളികളെങ്കിലും നിന്റെ കടലാസില്‍
തെളിയാതിരിക്കില്ല.

*********************

വരണ്ട ചങ്ക് പാടിയത്..

ഓട്ടക്കയ്യിലെ സ്വപ്നങ്ങള്‍ക്ക്
ഇരുട്ട് കാവല്‍
അരിയുടെ വേവുമണത്തില്‍
നീരിപ്പിടിക്കുന്ന പട്ടിണി പോലെ,
നിന്റെ പ്രണയം കൂട്ടിനും.
......കാലം പലതെങ്കിലും ,
കഥയൊന്നു തന്നെ
ഉമിയുടെ നീറ്റലും.

*********************

Love Borne

Leaning against the wet grills of the window

Counting the lingering rain drops,weighing them

What I imagined was the voice

beckoning from behind the red-pink evening sky

But how did u fathom,what rose in my eyes

The fiery swirls'f monsoon clouds,the impending storm?

How did you guess ,that

in mystery lies my wanton freedom?

Where did you learn

to delude my gathering thoughts

Like leaves scattering in these rainy winds

To bridge my loneness

With that tight hold onto my toe?

To hold back my neighing heart

With that much loved forlorn look?

I hate what you do to me,to simplify me

The way you sit beside my yearning self

But isn't this love,the Holy Grail of loneliness.

The journey ended long ago

I'm now supposed to drink.

Letters from my soul.

There was a time when I would burn with retribution in my soul for every evil done by selfish men.Nights when I couldn't sleep and wrote on endlessly.Days spend submerged in music,when I tried to heal my aching soul.Too difficult for any normal human being to understand.Neither did I want someone to ask questions.I was best left alone.Immersed in my own thoughts,following their meandering courses and then writing it all down or painting them.But there came a time when he came into my life.And on one such night,patting on my head,he said;
"Why burn when you know what to do.."
"What...? "
I was exasperated.
"Just try to give some light"....

That was when I noticed the light in his eyes.That was the moment when I realized I was right.And blessed.I had found my soul mate.