and i wonder
if the stone
you possess
is transferrable,
‘cos after seeing you
dispel all the fakes
and makes of modern takes,
it sure looks
exceedingly desirable.
is the stone
you have in you
transferrable?
i wonder.

my humble piece at The Clarity of Night. please give me your feedback. thanks!

Never mind the bitter wind that caresses the stripped surface of our bodies. Your arms snaking round my waist from behind are a sweet reminder of our undying love as fragments of our lives invade my state of mind.

I remember the times we spent playing ‘cooking’ in the barnyard when we were five, the punch I got from Dexter for shielding you when we were in elementary school, my first flower – a small dandelion – I gave you on Valentine’s Day in 1951, the first time we held hands, embraced and kissed each other, the first heated argument we had when you saw Jane crying on my shoulders, how we got our only Harley on a shoestring budget, your ‘yes’ when I asked for your hand, the night we lost our virginity to one another, your tears when I left for Vietnam, you carrying Jess in your arms when I returned from the war, how you were my strength when my folks passed on and the many success and failure we had enjoyed together.

These sixty years, we’d had it all. Well, almost…except your wildest dream – both of us riding on our Harley naked…until now.

As we run with our Harley down this memory lane with growth rings on our exposed skins that speak ages, I want you to remember this day. Even if you’re just a lifeless body now, I’ll finish this naked journey with you.

Never mind the cops that are coming after us.

it grips
and trips
i, me, myself.

hate it.

She turned,
Just in time
To meet his eyes.

Teardrops
Could have been
Visible yet.

Childhood
Memories
Cheered hauntingly.

Bath play,
Piggyback,
Merry-go-round.

Funny
How they seemed
So yesterday.

This love
Was shared with
Much abhorrence.

But still,
She won’t trade
Anything else.

The roots
Had dug deep
In the muscles.

When cut,
They hurt with
Shameless muteness.

Lord Time
Had decreed
Their destiny.

Depart,
Both shall do
Both shall remain.

No words,
No cuddle,
And no secrets.

The eyes
Could just scream,
“I love you much!”

the text was loud when the sovereign seed, tree and soul delivered the punch that sent the wired one scrambling. the horn was read and the cause for fireworks could never have been underachieved. the route, the one with the narrowest width, is now set for as long as time exists. the sidewalk must be dolled up. the sheep must be led. the journey must and will start. the chosen living dead and dead living must complete the mission hand in hand. the curtain that differentiates has been lifted, but the vision is no clearer than before. in fact, one of them is dripping with an ounce of the thorn that kills. the fist must surely soften the blow, now.

it has to be Him that she’s saved now. i’m excited by the prospect and the future. i’m happy for her, for me and… let me sleep over it before any sensible rattling.

you asked me yesterday how many good men i was looking for. i said just one more. and when i found the one today, you asked how many now. i said just one more. tomorrow i will find the one and you are going to ask me the same question. i will say just one more.

i’m still running…and i want to fly soon. i’m not dead and will not be anytime soon. keep me in your prayers…

The cries were heard
The bliss was communal
The cradle was rocked
The sustenance was wholesome
The T.L.C. was showered
The kinship was established
The future was built
Our lives were complete
Because you came

(this was pretty much written for my minute seven-week-old who had to go.)

this is definitely one of my all-time favourite musicians not just for his folk tunes with simple melodies, but also for his immense lyrical genius in penning intense feelings about issues in tight little pieces of poetry. this one’s one classic piece of José González from his second outing, In Our Nature.

how low are you willing to go before you reach all your selfish goals punch line after punch line leaving us sore leaving us sore absorbed in your ill hustling feeding a monster just feeding a monster invasion after invasian this means war this means war someday you’ll be up to your knees in the shit you seed all the gullible that you mislead won’t be up for it where to will you relocate now that it’s war now that it’s war

santa could not believe his luck
when the purple bells
he had been searching the last eighteen years
dropped right in front of him
while he was chewing his mind on the magazine
as he sat on the loo
that was built on the exact ground
where ten thousand foot soldiers perished in a nuclear attack
which was quite a mishit
on the part of a certain adolf
born of a woman not born of woman.

he picked them up
and fresh memories of
what had happened eighteen years earlier
brought back waves of sorrow
with a tinge of thrill
that could explain why all he could muster there and then
was an ounce of salty tear
from the corner of the left eye
which was the only functional window to the hardened soul
after years of pounding from the loss they labelled inevitable
because of his obstinate attitude and aptitude.

the bells jingled
and he was more than willing
to laugh at his own misfortune
so beautifully wretched
that he could not bear to curse anything or anyone but himself
who had chosen to soften the redness of the sore
that was growing and glowing with honour
from twenty thousand leagues beneath
causing the entire building to rattle with triumph
which was so sorely missed
the last eighteen years of his motherless life on earth.

he gaped

and yawed

and died

a happy lonesome brute.

’tis a must…

I had the curious urge,
But all I could do was to scratch it.

The consciousness oozed from the wound.

If the pain was existent, it should be spelt r-a-i-n,
Because it pelted upwards.

That left me home and pried.