Tuesday, December 10, 2013

The Devilry!

I open the pressure hatch,
          let myself out,
into the murky, Sodium coloured world
          –their midnight,
my hour to trek back, I did time,
          to the beach,
finding warmth in the cold waves,
          and a colder moon.

I dread the darkness in sunlight,
          I must be him;
I see bright lights in darkness,
          I am him, the Devil.

Sunday, November 24, 2013

Inhuman Love!

Introduce yourself,
the best of you,
I was asked,

Sure sir...
I'm a boy,
I love to play.

I am a man,
I love to watch
the boys play.

But beware,
I am inhuman,
and that's how I love.

Wednesday, November 06, 2013

The Fall

The season has a bit
more than the smog
that fills my lungs;
creeping through the
fickle filters I put up
to fight its advances.

It’s relentless, fast
and eases me into bed,
under layers of cotton;
and, a bit of lycra, of late;
as I make love, monitor and
chronicle the flame with a Google app.

Friday, September 13, 2013

Misty Lips!

Smudges, they shift
with each sigh from 
the old artist’s soul,
in between his freezing
brush strokes.
Pure bliss,
his heart creates
the lines which 
let life flow
in a sedate pace,
the perfect cadence
to feel heaven,
which plays hide n seek
in an unknown,
wet, yet misty cycle;
The right music 
to feel you, in the breeze;
to taste your lips in
the fresh green fern
I kissed...

Yeah, I kissed...
Ever so gently,
so, so softly;
lest I wake up the 
God from his dream.

Friday, September 06, 2013

Our Tomorrow!

This piece of time,
It’s broken;
no, it’s alive,
the Eagle lives;
and circles around
its latest prey, I.

For my time,
I wait!

The sign of life,
the tiny twitches
of my vein,
insults me, and my heart!

Where is my pulse?
Her voice.

Where is my will?
Her smile.

Where is my life?
There, beyond reach,
it’s chained onto the
long arm of the
cruel clock on my right,
in this dark room.

The right time...
Destiny’s hand it is;
now, hold me, my right arm;
it’s time,
it’s midnight,
and tomorrow is ours...


Tuesday, September 03, 2013

The Mirrors

In another train,
not so long back,
I never had the need
to turn and watch the
shaky mirrors behind,
which hid my virtual image
beneath the many faces
commuting to work,
to play, to love.
Then, I could only look ahead,
or to the left,
through the iron bars,
and watch the stallion,
with me on its saddle,
gallop alongside the
diesel-powered coaches,
beside the endocrine-driven
life and its dreams;
jumping over small brooks,
crossing meadows, little fences,
and concrete roads;
trails I never took in my life;
the lanes,
now forgotten...

See, now I travel
many a metres
under the precise,
geometrically symmetric
maxims of a teacher
in pristine white coat,
in a lab where
muscle fibres are,
first torn apart,
then stitched back,
to make Kevlar out of
human flesh...

I am forced to look back now,
onto the mirrors
behind me,
they shudder in fear,
are rickety in dread,
for my eyes are cold,
angry, in fire...
As I can’t heal my world,
nor can I stop
them all from dying,
nor can I stop the livingfrom crying!

Wednesday, August 07, 2013

The Unwritten Word!

The Christmas I feel here,
rising from the bushes,
where they walk,
Eden is far, a mirage;
but they walk... Towards home,
towards nothing!

And they all take that trail,
thank their God,
and they shop in joy
for they've mastered
the written word
in their holy book.
But it's too dark to read
the unwritten word,
their constitution,
in their daily lives.

It's Christmas but,
in Zimbabwe...

Bible sale on a pavement in Harare

Friday, August 02, 2013

Ode to Bulawayo

There goes another wicket,
in haste they walk!

I stroll in taste,
Bulawayo’s Queen in my arms,
the soft whisper from
the swaying ol' timers,
the masters,
the witnesses,
the faithfuls beyond the 
east frame of a green canvas,
an oval mirror for men;
their leaves speak of old glory,
of war and peace,
revolutions and blood,
of solutions and dread,
and of love… 

… How will I forget love?
In the promised land
a few Safaris away,
I hunt and shunt
in a game I always lose;
like my dear hosts
who’re lost at home… 
home bitter home!

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

The Crumpled Dollar

It's winter,
in Rhodesia, in my life
where summer was short
and well rehearsed
to last till that second,
the stage-time,
set by you, your calculus,
and its variables.

ye, only you,
the conductor at my opera;
the director of my dreams;
the dictator;
an autocrat,
who crushed my will,
the murderer I slept with.

I search,
find hope in the smiles
of the hard-worker,
who gives receipts for the
crumpled dollars I pay him.
Oh Zimbabwe,
look... my crumpled heart;
laugh now, please laugh!

Friday, July 19, 2013

That Boy in the Rain

Those three storeys,
shadowless today,
project the layers in the
story of that boy in the rain...

A man walks into the
square reserved for morning prayers,
midday chaos and evening jest;
to splash water on his soul,
to forget love,
to tear open his shirt, feel love...

From the heavens;
from the girl of yore; from you;
from the blonde across the table;
over candle-lit dinners;
or at a beach empty.
But, man he can't love!

He can only kneel,
in pain now,
his will slashed in war.
He watches, in dread,
as the boy fades into the mist
rising from a basketball court.

With that, poof, his memories mix,
into a dull grey Molotov cocktail,
then flow into the polluted gut
of a city of rushed dreams.

While two boys live, swinging, 
their moment drenched in lust,
a thirst for life, yes lust;
their clocks tick-toeing towards truth,
towards the end of innocence,
where they’ll begin to die!

Instagram: Pixeles_

Friday, March 15, 2013

It's forgotten!

Oh I forgot,
just like I forget to sleep,
these days of spring...
When the birds sing, make love.

See, I don't read life,
or its books;
when I find a paperback,
I tear its cover,
build a wobbly ship,
and float it down the drain
that takes out the sins
of my commute,
to the depths of this
city I call home.

Then, my heart betrays me,
halfway through that peeled
Yes, I forgot how to write.

Friday, February 01, 2013

The Steps

In that cramped space
I call my living room,
the fridge in the blue corner,
she stares at my sidekick,
and grins, mocks me
when I pull it short;
to avoid the charges
she will press,
taking me to court,
for domestic violence!

But, that kick was not
for your cold heart,
I was just tracing the steps,
they named it,
you call it, Bassai Sho.
The steps I took,
when I was toddling
my way to school, to life,
to lies, and the many flings
that made me a man.

Friday, January 11, 2013

The Empty Room

The deep, long breaths,
signs of a life, its chords
resonate with
those beats
I can never drown in wine.
I grew used to the music
rising from the anteroom,
my only room, yes,
no room or heart for more love...
That rear guard up front
is long gone.... home.
But, in my numb starts,
I still see him,
as I wake up for another
day in the cold realities of
the stale and empty man I see,
in the shaving mirror I never use.