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IndiaThe sea took'd me...

And oh my country of newlywed clouds how I remember you, dust and rain
and mud and spice in air. And in summer, baking roads and hot languages; a million
dialects, or eight hundred: I never learned you, I never will. I only loved you and I think
that is not enough, perhaps it never was, but how do I know? I know loneliness,
and how can you know that? I was a child, am a child, am something less or more now –
And how can you think of beauty? Do you hear yourself? Your radios are blaring
noise; your television shows are preaching idiocy to a million people
who hear and coIndia2 years ago in Free Verse

IndiaThe sweetest Indian spices
Fill their aroma in my heart,
Envisioning such worlds apart
That more than my mind entices,
But also long hidden vices
That purge from my body with peace.
The warm air my world decreases
And makes only this world alive,
A pure land with its own pained life,
Where I can make all dark doubts cease.India4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms

Carnevale2 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry

India - a Reminder..

It began with the smallest mistake,
allowing them to stay,
along with us as our guests,
and never go away.

They spread the snakes of hatred,
in every nook and corner,
and bit us all apart,
making us easy to conquer.

Like vultures tearing meat apart,
they tore away our unity,
making sure the cut once made,
would never heal again.

When Oppression finally opened our eyes,
oceans of blood drowned us,
into the depths of darkness,
where once entered can never comeout again.

Until one day when he arrived,
bringing along the rays of freedom,
carried us up away from darkness,
and showered the glory of 'satyagraha'.

He heaIndia - a Reminder..8 years ago in Free Verse

Indiadark tanned skinned faces,
hidden beneath colorful masks,
that hide them from that Indian sun,
as they continue all of their daily tasks.

a jungle of red ribbons and jewels,
that sparkle for the buyers eyes,
sit upon little stands and tables,
that merchants sell to passerbys.

a music that fills the corners,
a thrumming that can reach the heart,
are the beats of this foreign land,
that make you want to listen and watch.

sweet candy unknown to the tongue,
a taste that melts away all thoughts,
and smells of homeland cooking,
that are boiling in taverns pots.

a home that is welcoming to everyone,
a place that is known for its culIndia4 years ago in Free Verse

Poem: A Memoriam of IndiaMissing teeth set in a smiling face
Bright colors floating in the violent sun
Radiant flowers peeking out of a wooden vase
The bustle of feet increased when the day is done.

Incomprehensible words spilling from foreign lips
Bodies constantly encroaching on personal space
Denim and cotton empty by holes and rips
Tons of metal swerving as if in a race.

Dark faces with bright eyes locked in a stare
Cracked heels and calloused toes amidst glass and foil
Tarp enclosure lived in by five and a pair
Back hunched over from working in soil.

The passion and joy that is ached for
Power flowing freely after spiritual drought
The desire of thPoem: A Memoriam of India1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms

You returned
alive with the scent of India
still lingering beneath the stale pine-
freshness of the airport – the richness
of spice and salvation,
warm and solid and earthy.

You glowed with the heat of a sweaty sun
and the brightness of eyes
(the people you saved) blinking, new
at a shining world.

I stood before you and felt as pale
as the bandages in your big black bag.India6 years ago in Free Verse

Trip1

I speak six languages, French on the train,
Flemish in a square, money in my top hat,
I sell the hat, travel on, Italian at a Cathedral,
Hebrew on a mountain, money in my flat cap,
I travel against the sun, speak music with him.

2

I did not lose my treasure on the crossing
and no pirates approached our ship.
The natives are civilised, for natives;
a charming prince with a nose ring performed a dance for me.

3

wine buckfast lager pass a smoke man the dope shroom stash smashed
out of my head can't feel my feet the bed half a pill I'm delirious dead

4

Strong man and the Siamese twins dig ruts for the wheels
and the acrobat brewTrip2 years ago in Free Verse

unveiled2 years ago in Free Verse

HesaraghattaBangalore: tin
houses lean in mass
saffron lake, perspirationHesaraghatta4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern

To Reach You -

I lost my pupils to the Indian sun -
they melted into oily pin pricks,

settled
across
my
face as

freckles.

my contours like ink,

sunk

Somewhere in the English Channel –
Dispersed, lapping pebbles.

(I recallTo Reach You -5 years ago in Concrete Poetry

KALIHer eyes are two bloody moons that
see through the dust and shadow
that obscures Time's slow drift,
her hair is a storm of cool black,
her body filled with primal pleasure
and fierce becoming, she is the
goddess I see in the absence of
friendly light, full of Beauty
and Death, she is Kali.

Beautiful as ebony and ivory extremes,
beautiful as decaying Life and birthing
Death, so is she who drinks blood and
wears a belt of skulls, beautiful and
black and naked as the Night and Death
…as the unconscious mind stretched
open before the dark divinity of her
sex, so is she who devours the seed
of Life with her cosmic KALI2 years ago in Free Verse

Dream GirlWhen I was younger, my mother called me her dream girl.
I remembered her combing out my hair, and doing it up
With little ribbons in the strands.
I remember her never quite remembering where the
lady bug hair clips had gone.
When she tugged at my braids one final time,
she'd say, "Look at you, aren't you beautiful?"
We'd walk together to grocery stores and I'd skip
by her side, holding her hand tight, humming a nursery rhyme.

It's my favourite memory. It's always been my favourite memory.
My mother wants my stories, my poetry to be about love, hugs and sunflowers.
I just want it to be honest. I just want to tell the truth.

I wantDream Girl2 years ago in Free Verse

India SmokePurple, plush cushions surround us, thick of smoke and strong perfume. Men with turbans and thick moustaches talk of politics and love. They smoke their pipes. They are at peace. I pass you the hooka and you suck. I watch and smile as the clours dance before your eyes. You see the world, and the world sees you; You are as one.

Beautiful girls dote our every move. Stroke our hair, bring us colourful curries that burn our throats, making our eyes stream. They laugh and we laugh too, but we don't know why. Why does it matter?

My mind flickers briefly to England. I smile. I do not care. I beam sleepily, the Indian sun shining through my lips. TIndia Smoke2 years ago in Free Verse

as a kid i was
always terrified that
my heart would stop beating
too soon

[i mean, you didn't think
little girls ever
thought about
silly
ridiculous things like
su
i
cide
,
right?]

and when my daddy didn't
know the answer to
my questions, i insisted
"but you're daddy;
you know
everything!"

[no, it comes later
when those little girls
are not-so-little girls
and meet
boys like you, with
no intentions
hidden underneath the
pretense that
they
really do care.]

i liked the color
rainbow and the way
i could make things
in the sidewalk world
out of chalk.

[not-so-little-girls
were promised
boys like the one
you uindia3 years ago in Free Verse

The Crows of MumbaiThe Crows of Mumbai
November 2008

The crows tell the story
as the story is told of that day
this way – honest as a bone
in the throat –

Was everything not just as it was
when, perched in tulip trees
above the street and skipping
from curb to fence, we bawled

our warnings to warn you?
Dark from the sea,
The Unwelcome returns,
we screamed – Hear

how you must run
to the shrine of MumbaDevi,
deal her garlands of jasmine
and pink lotus, lay them

at her feet. Were we not crying
all we knew? Hotels will burn;
bodies fall. Do not leave
your room – open your door

to no one. And when
your bodies, bloated
burnThe Crows of Mumbai4 years ago in Free Verse

Black Rainbow.Cigarette Lips.

The grey of your T-shirt.

A splash of wet green grass.

Orange co-ordinated love.

It's funny how you've played
so well with the yellow sands
of the Hourglass.

How you've got me painting
you with colours of
happiness,borrowed from
another.

But.

If they ever ask.

Promise me
we'll lie.

If they ask again-we'll
throw a volley of heartbeat blue
at questions our
love doesn't like.

We've just begun some
black love and poetry.

You cannot go away yet.
Leave that stain of nicotine
on my fingertips
before you disappear
into the dawn.

All these days.
I have been painting.

Today I write.Black Rainbow.2 years ago in Free Verse

All His Milestones On FilmAll His Milestones On Film
Starring Sanjay Dutt as Sand and Shadow

Ta-da: his childhood came unwrapped
like his mother’s parcel at the boarding school
set in hills far north of Dehli.

It has to be said he was brilliantly packaged
- in silver – and stretched,
a song on religious ecstasy
played with a spoon on foil,

The projector's pur
grew coarser with each flicker.
In this cage, every feature
is a première to her, every detail
apprehended for the first time

Soot came up when the silk was torn,
up from thirteen streets in Bombay,
up like the sand when child's castle
is kicked down.

He became a creeping figure,
All His Milestones On Film5 years ago in Free Verse

IndiaDo you remember
Running nungi pungi in the rain?

The tennis court is flooded:
Warm pani seeps round wobbly ankles

Bigli crashes down with a bullet hole monsoon;
Thunder follows sheepishly.

Jackal's prowl
with teeth like glowing cracks in certainty.
Sleep tight beneath
Your mosquito net.India7 years ago in Free Verse

INTO KALI, I SHATTEROh Kali, Devourer of the Divine Darkness,
into the infinite Day the Night takes root,
bleeding to belong...the vulnerable ache
to be strong, with you may I find that Fire
in my belly to devour pain and anger with
every juicy cell of my self power, my Spirit
is full-yet I hunger to know the timepiece
ticking in the bright shadows of your Moon,
you exist in the wild will that I have learned
to embrace, it's a part of me with mysteries
breathing, cleaving to the cosmic swell of
your wisdom, fetal hours you dissolve into
the dust of blood and bone, feeding from
prisms of spontaneous light as I sacrifice
myself to your fatality, oh INTO KALI, I SHATTER1 year ago in Free Verse

No Need for Words6 months ago in Free Verse

IndiaMagnificent city
Always moving, always still
The buzzing serene

A girl with dark hair
Laughs; hot liquid on her lips
Eyes dancing with love

The soft, tender meat
Gives easily to white teeth
Delighting the tongue

Fragrant, rich spices
Mingle with life, hope and love
India's spiritIndia5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern

Red Lights in CalcuttaThey trace their fingers along
The cage of my captivity:

Sharp prison-bar ribcage,
Protruding through papery skin;
Jutting thrust of starved hipbones...

Their callous hands even upon
The chiseled laugh-lines…

Erasing the crease
Of a time before

I forgot how to smile.

Daily, they watch the dying light
Ember out of empty eyes

And force the brunt of their power
Between once virgin thighs:

Ugly, the beauty that money can buy;
Brutal, how I have been objectified.

Once I was a girl, a daughter,
And meant to be a wife.

Our fields my family tilled,
While standing side by side;

Green fields of ginger, turmeric, and peppeRed Lights in Calcutta3 years ago in Free Verse

herons2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern

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