Rainy days

Let me speak of rains and dreams,
Yesterday city had neither dreams nor rains,
Perhaps had no time to spear!
Little ones had no water to smear!
Wind and birds fly, but 
Unknown fronts crash them!
Clouds never known their mates!
Wailing bridal rooms,
Dark corners, crys, carnage, pick pockets,
Blind hopes, rainless days!


Mothers prayed and now-
You smile! me feel your wet skin,
This flickering wig flames,
My heart flooded,
Every odd animal strays-
On your feet for a dusty meal.
Today me on this earths' raw face of sorrow,
The child in my belly splashes them off!
Carry me now thee wind to the outdoors,
To love thee rain and rainy thee!

The Last Job

Your thin long shadows,
Strings of lusty eyes grab them.
Each stares through thy window-sill,
Through the rented wardrobe,
To thy child's aborted foetus heart.
Thy smile; a borrowed chink of coins,
Thy tears; rivulets in waste land.
Wingless birds stray like dogs hungry,
Thy child feed them full with crys!
Now this last customer...
Thee have no time to wait,
Lest thy child die hungry.

Paradise

She saw a boats-man,
Half naked 'brown man',
Fish smelling,
murky melting water Wshadow,
Ripples never made him!
A wet earthly one,
Knows depths, devil's zones!
The first meeting of sea man and woman,
She had a river in her breast,
Ever flowing...
He had storms, maddening-
Ripples in his brain.
They met to make a river with storm flowing,
Through the world's lost Eden gardens.

Departure Terminal

At the departure terminal,
As on an Indian street,
With merchants of spice,
Am an excited kid-
With wings of my bird,
Juggled in raw wind.
The wait is over, 
Now you tell me to get-
My wings back-
And chain them to-
The departure terminal,
For a home coming.

The Conspiracy

When you've finished your party,
Emptied your wine and beer, 
The dance floor for us ready.
Let's hear in a candle's light,
Whisper of your bangles,
War of warm breaths,
Conspiracy of hushing mouths!
And a few ice crystals to-
Speak of politics, Christ and Gandhi,
Fashion, film and your literature class,
Turn ons and offs,
About your pregnancy!
Fear of aborted foetus,
Oil spill and nuke-fears,
Then a Schizo-laughter!
Few more ice cubes...a fresh flower to smell,
Let's chew a verse of Solomon-
"My beloved is to me a bag of myrrh...
My beloved is to me a cluster of henna..."
The party is on, the Conspiracy is on!

Good Friday

To this hour, lost-
paradise's lone bird,
Thee tried my flesh,
bruised my chest!


Trampled earth,
broken to bleed;
The heaven's strangled neck,
stoops to kiss;
Thee my beloved,
why sponge off-
To thy perfumed hairs,
a world of sorrow?
To thy ailing breast,
my throbbing heart?
Tears, thee feed-
all hungry mouths!


And thee a rain timid and shy dart-
From thy ill swollen sky-flowers,
Unto my beggar's bowl of little flesh.
An old towel of conscience,
With a stench of flesh's sting-
Thee brought to wipe all
bloody scars in heartless hearts!


Magdalene, 
My beloved from the streets-
The last of love dreams,
Go back to Simon's house,
With the alabaster jar-
To perfume thy resurrecting flesh.