When it rains and the trees seem to divide
I hear the Sea, and Heroes multiply
The storm before the calm
The promises made to be Happy

Sulking the sanctioned sun lifts
Her head, of golden-rose
And Moonlit congregations of
Midnight roses follow our steps

Across the fields, like years
And summers burn our will into acceptance
And love molds our cheeks
With Bronze conformity, time

Has a way of making us timid or cautious
Here learning to smile more tamely
In slow-motion, transience is justified
By our few years of rebellion

That came and went like dandelions
And all the pollen that rests in the Sea
When I hear it rain, it all comes
Rushing back to me, under a constant

Wonder of melodic eyes, the evening
Was a spear in the ravine and sunset
An abyss of beauty beyond comprehension.




As a moth bends no more than the flame
I to regret must part, and say
I am not yet ready for any final silence
Until the bright logic of Spirit is won
I must do my part, perfect my Cry
And cast the mirrors one by one


Whispering to ourselves is believing
Restless though are the Legends of our Youth
That come to haunt us asking for
Repentance, for which I shall
Never perhaps oblige fully
As the light asks the skies for
A touch of rain, I shall look down at


All that I was, and forget clearly
The sulfur dreams of long ago
I could never remember well anyways
We are all legends to our hunches
That we one day arrive at the place
We dreamed, love it shines in Tyranny
More brightly, to balance the world
And give repose to the stories we tell ourselves.

Photography Courtesy:–457001355




I have lived through a dynasty of blindfolds
With blue currents in my veins
The feeling of being ‘different’
What I to make of these contradictions?
I learn mandarin, I wear white cuffs


I learn to bow low, my heart
Filled with disorganized unlocalized prayers
O Soul, and such disorganization!
My stars are flashing like
Terrible numerals of my intuition


The choices I have made, unmade
The spirit of valedictory pangs
Must follow us all, like memory
Memory’s stiff formality of failed prophecies
Her bandages to self-image, her mockeries
And the terrible breathing of ill-health
Some things could not have been predicted


I have lived through a dynasty of rareness, then?
Being myself, an ordinary creator in littleness
I feel as if I’ve trespassed stupidly
Across my fate, like an unwelcome guest
Or colonized a new form of ignorance
Settled in neurological patterns of
The most dire selfishness, until I am
Terrified of what I have become


I learn to accept malignancy slower than others?
Swimming with angels in apprehension
I struggle at the limits of language
Ready to bleed light again into my
Self-sufficient darkness, her unidentifiable calls


Here there is an immortality
In the self-talk that loves to suffer
I move away from dampening vibrations in a hurry
For such salt-sweetness of surrealism
Leads nowhere, but to some sport of doom.




You may write me down in history
With faint acclaims of martyrhood
But we were all heroes for living
We faced and trod in this world’s dirt
And still, like dust, we rise


To the stars from which we came
You won’t see us any longer
But we’ll be back with new faces
Hungry minds, stronger hearts?
There is no stopping change
How many teardrops did we catch
On our shoulders? That day, those years?


We were shot with words, and killed
By discrimination, prejudice and politics
We outlived history, with our soulful cry?
Because we believed in doing Good
Doing good anywhere is good everywhere


We took the time to speak to the people
Without being victims or seeing enemies
You may write me down as anonymous
But I strove to be a good citizen
To laugh and cry in balanced measure


Never to be afraid of life’s energy
Don’t complain, if you can’t change it
It takes courage to display empathy
Day after day, don’t be a coward
Even if you have just one smile left
Give it to the people you love
And if you have nobody, smile to yourself.




Virtue is not erratic, it’s the
Intolerance of ignorance
But to change the world
You must never let them forget
How you made them Feel

My Mother said I must
Know myself as a creation of God
Obliged to remember that
Everyone else and everything else
Are also God’s creations

So what does it matter?
We tried to be rainbows
In the clouds, to Love
Without barriers, penetrating
All walls to arrive at our
Destination, full of hope & prayer

Nothing will work, unless you do:
Virtue is not achieving something
But being somebody who
Renders the future accessible to the present
Sharing the untold stories inside of you

You are the sum total of
Everything you’ve ever experienced
Everyone influences us and
Our ‘mother wit’ is the hope
To reflect something positive unto others
For hope is the courage to be
More generous, more merciful
and more honest.




I want to go back so far that
I speak another Language
Sometimes I retreat into my Cave of scars
Only to find I bear witness
To the tragedies of history
I enact them in myself
In my private study of humanity


I want to go back so far that
The cell phone is never on
I am ripped-out from the grid
So I might feel a blemish of silence
And dream in primitive pure survival
Without the influence of others


With naked fingers I would follow
My bliss until all I could do is
Extend my loneliness into the world
As if I was the first to discover individuality
And the virtues of feeling separate
I have always wondered about
The left-over energy of a lifetime
Sitting there long after midnight
Burnt-out by death herself


I want to go back so far that
Caring becomes an impossible thinness
And love becomes the only thing
That is not filled with ambiguity.

Photo Courtesy:

FOLLOWING KANT (The end of Philosophy)



For years I struggled with you
Left-brain, your categories and dissections
Your theories, your need to know
For years, I listened patiently
To your arguments, until I was
Carried off in my head by you


All this, with a Castle in the Air
For years I felt belittled by your logic
Your floating world dreaming of the future
Planning, assimilating, dividing my life
Into cost, benefit and formula


For years I thought I wanted what you wanted
To profit, exploit, progress, become a success
I may love the Jewish mind, but I’m not
Jewish, I was not socialized
Under a purely patriarchal lens
I maybe wasn’t born to melt
Constellations with my mind.

Photography Courtesy: