the last sin
  pale ashen sky
a bleary eye
clouds of recurring screams...
i am a zoo
  an octopus leviathan
tentacles into an ocean
of unformed emotions...
syphilis and love  
  syphilitic pall
stifles the clear blue
i contort...
 
shell and pearl
  amidst highs and lows
in life's ocean flows
a shell peony-mouthed...
 
i am an unmarried mother
 
  fed on stings
of barbed milk morality
my child-plankton...
 
the lovers
  cell upon cell
bridge of their union
hung on the pillars...
rebirth
  ogre of age
and time cavil
at a warm picture...
the young today
  innocence thaws
at the altar
of ambition...
 

on a starless night

dark enigmatic distant alleys
tunnels into timeless terrain
eyes lit like fresh embers
moving like sci-fi movie graphics
stars are on a vacation
but the sky is aglow
not the balmy innocence of moonlight
not the misty coldness of frost bites
but one that springs from recesses
somewhere in-between light
an interplay of shadows
of one's hyper other world

from the bustling pebbled streets
of what looks like a pristine city
with busy but curiously soundless
bazaars and easygoing rustic people
can't seem to place their faces
i ingress through a small wooden door
with large rusty iron locks
stony sidewalls lead to an expanse of green
with an imposing mountain as its backdrop
it seems almost august
but there is an eeriness about the place
what's that anonymous statue
with a big forehead and oversized ears
carved on its slippery steep domain
the garden overlooks pillared rectangular veranda
with bare rooms sporting pocket sized windows
lined against its plaster peeled walls
a mute testimony to tales of love and betrayal
such a splendid and sad view
and on a parallel plane
there is murder and deceit
mayhem of the senses
then the imagery blurs
i do sense alternating between euphoria and despair
almost a daliesque experience
but the visit was well worth it

very much like anywhere place
was it a playing field of subconscious desires
or freudian repressed sexuality
pity we can't photograph dreams
if nothing else they make surreal pictures.

( 9 June 2002 )