The Visitor

He hides his eyes 

From eyes that pry 

So afraid of losing the life 

he is so afraid of, 

but he denies 

“It’s not bad, it’s not all bad” 

We do not rock the boat we have 

We steer on at constant speed 

If we hit a rock, 

I’ll cover up the bleed 

Stifled by the authority 

Of his nod on an old decree 

He keeps a timid eye out 

for the plenty fish in the sea 

Sits all day with his nets stoic, 

his heart bone-dry 

to catch the next high it begets 

In a series of constant goodbyes 

As I watch him, I realise 

We’re in the same boat 

I’m just in a cleaner disguise 

There’s not a kind word about him anywhere 

But in my arms…he’s sublime 

For I don’t know if I save his life 

Or he ends up saving mine

No Apologies

Pray tell me

Why is being heartless

such a virtue 

Feeling,

A weakness

Opening up, 

A vulnerability 

Expressing love,

The ultimate embarrassment.

I said it but not quite,

You heard it but not quite. 

So here it is for your reading (dis)pleasure. 

Love, here I could write an album of sorts

At arm’s length, making four hours worth of small talk

It’s not easy to keep track of your quips, whilst

my body’s as tense as a bowstring

Your well-rehearsed tricks are transparent for miles 

Sure, I’ll pretend to be blind if you’d like

I’m a slave to your wishes, aren’t I, 

a common prisoner of your smiles

When my body finally gives way 

With your slightest touch and

To the twinkle in those eyes

In that moment I don’t care what you think 

I can’t, just can’t hold it in. 

And I shouldn’t be asked

To hold it in. 

Or to get it over with. 

To GET.OVER.IT. 

To...compartmentalise. 

What an awfully cruel word to the unwise. 

You mean it, maybe not quite, but

I see misplaced pride in your eyes. 

As you stare at me as if I’m naíve

I stare back in disbelief, that

I tried to be less human

because evolution asked me to 

because you expected me to

And I let myself be fooled. 

Truth is, 

we weren’t really built that way

Much less me, that I will say

Perhaps I’m the luckiest girl in the world

to have felt and pained and loved and lost

By letting myself take the long, long fall

So 

I’m going to stop apologising for it all.

Keeping up appearances

It’s fine, I’m fine

Keeping up appearances 

is an old friend of mine

He has crashed on my couch

Many times before

Like an unwanted guest I can’t let go

Whenever I step out

He walks right in front of me!

And when I try to speak

He filters my words with his sieve

It’s fine, I’m fine

Keeping up appearances is the pen *and* the paper 

And I’m trapped in my own design

NOTA!

You’re triggered! but your gun is shooting blanks
Only accustomed to be a yes-man to people up the ranks
You don’t even know what weights to keep to measure your worth
Benchmarking with what’s spoonfed, thinking you’re salt of the earth

So courageous in speaking up, too coward to have an opinion
You’re worse than my father who at least has something he believes in
Blind and misguided you roam the streets like a lion
An emperor with no clothes thinks he’s king of the fucking jungle

Sit down! and exercise your birth right to be silent
Silent is what you are, when you choose to be blind to violence
Your choice to believe in nothing is a privilege you can afford
The saffron terrorists will soon be at your door saying ‘Not anymore! Not anymore!’

The more you poke the sleeping bear, the more she’ll learn to hunt
The more she slides into her armchair to call out your little stunt
Why does her mind bring you such discomfort - because she chose to peep out of the sand?
Enforcing your own insecurity and your inability to face yourself as a man without a plan?

When the time comes, she’ll have little shame and regret
She spoke her truth and did her part,
our world is about to change, you just haven’t seen it yet
You only know how to acquiesce ‘cause when have you ever been brave?
And you still can’t admit you’re wrong, for your strength always lay in your commitment to cave

And if her words don’t sound like they’re coming from a broken heart
Believer her when she says she might be losing sisters and brothers for she can’t manage to play different parts
She’s screaming because who knows how long it will be allowed to go on
You’re still here and reading the lyrics, but do you even understand my twisted love song?

Unbox

I tried to look for myself

in one of thirty-four boxes

they carry no labels

no color-coded tapes
no Fragile tags either
perhaps I threw them all away

Maybe I couldn't contain
in just one contraption of cardboard walls
or maybe I was never there
'cuz I couldn't box myself at all

Refresh

Alternating between different screens 

with the same humdrum of happy faces

These bedroom walls are caving in on me

I’ve been missing so long, 

I’m forgotten in everyone’s good graces.

I can’t remember the sun, the trees, 

the chatter of regular people

What is ‘regular people’?, I wonder

Remind me please, 

a name or a username that wasn’t yours.

Yes! I did notice the rain!

It made me smile for a second there,

that hint of petrich…you’re still unaware

you washed all over me 

yet again 

yet again, maybe it’s time to reconsider

I’m covered in fifty shades of self-shame

Dear God, I no longer wish to romance

these gallons of incremental physical ache.
Take it away, take it away.

As I narrate, she quizzes me, 

between all the concern and the exclaim

Do you think about him a little

Or Refresh in regular, fragmented breaks?

And I say…

Pray tell me,

how many seconds are there in a day.

Muse

Caught red handed in a green silhouette

Covered in tiny raindrops imitating sweat

Watching you nervously, 

all I care about is procuring a new muse

‘Cause I’m exhausted 

carrying criminal words without a noose

You confuse me

amuse, elude and

Misuse me

So won’t you oblige the pen to my right

I promise I won’t even touch you!

But I just might.

The Purpose

He’s gone

And I can’t remember the last thing I said to him

How long did I not have any words for him?

Besides the vitriol I spewed here in 2012.

I keep telling everybody “He fulfilled his purpose.”

Maybe I’d actually know the purpose he strived for

Had we exchanged real thoughts

If only I tried, not to roll my eyes.  

I wish I could find out-

If he mentally prioritised in his final moments

The agony of pain or

the vacuum of a mute granddaughter. 

You know 

My feelings are just hyperbole at this point 

Weren’t they always?

So am I tearing up because I miss him?

Or is it the guilt

That most days I just don’t have it in me

To be a good person. 

And then one day

I will too just be ashes,

Reduced by the conflagration we call Life,

Flowing down a filthy and incurable “holy” river 

(Perfect for washing away my sins!)

And someone with a fraction of my DNA

Will share their empty words to convey

They can’t remember the last thing they said to me.

Is it not enough?

Is it not enough

To sing to my four walls

The walls have ears too

They hear just because

Is it not enough

A gift was received and nurtured

We’re mother and child forever

So how did it become a burden?

Is it not enough

That I am always happy in its midst

Any heartbreak I can survive

As long as within me it exists

Is it not enough

Or do I too need to wear a dress

Slap on some makeup and rock the mic

Like a dervish possessed?

Is it not enough

That I sing just to hear you say

You are the most beautiful girl in the world

...it always, always makes my day

Danke, dis bald!

I don’t know why it affects me so

my head can’t think straight for the first 24

I know it isn’t love, 

I also know it isn’t platonic, so

Is this just a feverish high of the clandestined?

A secret too inconvenient to reveal

With consequences too exhausting, if I rewind.

I’m not afraid of the future

I gain smile lines with every passing day

It is, verily, of the past sneaking up on me…

Isn’t it all too alluring, the reminder of juvenility?

The moments of weaknesses, a sign of recklessness

A reassurance that youth wasn’t too far behind,

that it can still stay in me, as long as I stay unwise!

Some slip ups I can afford

But not this, not now, not like this

Lest I prove myself right every once in a while

Watch this sceptical angel dining with her own little devil

Who, for dessert, serves a delicious fortune cookie of peril.

Oh, Sweet Mistakes!

You’re going to cost me dearly.

When have I been one to protect myself

From the thrill of a complication?

When have I been one to resist a juicy sin

For I’ve been far too good, 

At least for the sake of percentage calculation.

All I pray for tonight is a good night’s sleep

I’m just biding my hours till the 24th sinks deep

I’ll close my eyes and blind my mind to an uncommitted crime

Perhaps

Until next time.

Resistance

When the sights are too little to take in

heart proudly resilient on purpose for whatever reason

such plateau should arrive so soon?

that I can’t remember what it was like

to be completely and utterly overwhelmed

to be completely and utterly out of my own control

to be floating without insulation on waves of tiny electric shocks

created by the neatly packaged bombs of your magical words

No life jacket could have protected me

when the sights were too much to take in

and smiles too many to hold back…

I close my eyes and squeeze underneath

oh my mind, my mind, please take me there!

Back to the wonderland, in a time machine for two

so I can smell your freshly deodorised skin, that still haunts me

so I can whisper in your ear my utmost vulnerability

so I could convince you to let me be your relentless fantasy

and maybe even feel the sweet pain of rejection

if only once more

Accidental Christ

Is life supposed to feel this empty

You make a sound and it echoes back to you

Fill up the tank lest your mind goes awry

But my limbs can’t move and my thoughts are frozen

An extra pill to ease the pain tonight

Could go the extra mile or could go the other way

A long-time love lost for reasons unknown

The keys are getting dusty and the melody is gone

Endless rounds of coffee to keep me awake

I can’t even differentiate between 3 pm and 3 am

Days turn into nights and nights turn into days

And this circle makes me dizzy in a thousand ways

A leap of faith to hit a new milestone

For the sake of simply shaking off the boredom

There is no passion left, the ache to go on

And the leap turns into a great last fall

What’s to celebrate for the tiny sphere of energy in my gut

Toast me when I’ve moved on but don’t let me know

A black and white existence turns to a technicolor lie

My paranoia is your genius, my slurs are your eccentricity

When will I recover, do I even have the will?

Or is it best to perish and go up in smoke

I don’t love life to feel that our time is short

Life is too long, my friend

Give me my moment to quit

The Lamp

Something moves in this house every day
the lamp, a few centimeters to the left,
the vases, appear and disappear
the salt and pepper shuffled
the book shelf, a little off centre
and I spend my time putting them back
in their right place
which I decided in the first place
out of boredom or compulsion,
or because how will you follow rules
without rules?

My peripheral vision is strained
Ears have had enough of my groans
who's this ghost playing this joke on me?
Who do I ask, of occurrences so trivial
and yet so wondersome (perhaps only to me)
Why is it necessary, I wonder,
to always have things the way I prefer
to always have them the way I feel comfortable
Is this a sign to irk me,
to make me revolt,
or resign to this nuisance?

Have I been living in a box for so long,
that everything in my life should imitate it?
Why shouldn't the lamp choose a darker corner today?
Why can't the vases just take a bath once in a while?
Why wouldn't the book shelf want to be closer to the window?

One day, not too far from now,
I will pick up the courage to budge myself,
a few centimeters to the left,
to see
if the world looks different from that angle,
and to hear
all rules suspend.

Pipes

I've cut the pipes
and now we shall never speak again

I cut the pipes in carefully deliberated haste
some, like you, might say it was done in bad taste
but a girl's gotta do
what a desperate girl's gotta do
you should see her fledgling pride debut
(Self-defense mechanism for the win!)

It's a pattern with me, my dear!
you were further than it appeared
Sorry it took this long to kill the channel
memories of you took a little extra time to dismantle
Denial's a funny thing, as it turns out
realization of existing information
takes its own sweet time to sprout

Once, long ago, I tried to keep the conduit open
Thought I could fix what was broken
But no repair was needed, I only fooled myself
And he reduced me to a few pages
in his memoir that gathers dust on his bookshelf
Then I had to go and do it all over again!
Once bitten, twice died, and thrice would've been a shame

Hmm, I've cut the pipes
and now I'm out of oxygen

I've cut the pipes
not sure you even noticed

Permanent Clown

Put on a happy face,

Permanent clown

You don't exist until you do

Who cares about you

Till you look like you're on acid,

And the rest of the crowd sways with you?

Put on a trippy mask,

Permanent clown

You don't exist until you do

Who loves you 

Till it's a show of hilarity and mishaps

And your true face is an unwanted new.

Don't you show any real emotions,

Permanent clown!

You're not allowed to have any.

Just get on that stage

Act out your little script

In a sequence decided by many.

I see through you, 

Permanent clown

You're tired just like the rest of us.

Hopping from one circus to the other

In the hope that you'll belong somewhere

Or go along with the pretend fluoresce.

We'll go to a better place,

Permanent clown.

We'll clickity clackety our heels and dance.

The bar will be open

Pretty people will be woven

And maybe one of them will give you a glance.

adore you

what a waste that i know all your sweet spots
now what am i to do with that information?
you'll hand it down to someone else
and make it their temporary privilege too
why must you make me privy, in such detail
that all my designs now make no sense, with this abrupt end
they were for you, for none other
crafted with patience and hunger at the same time

let me replace your face with someone else's
let me kiss with my mouth another neck
let me trace another spine, another day in another life
in time i'll forget the honeydipped taste of yours
like i forgot of the ones before you
one day, i'll forget also, how to adore you

Victim of your habit

Wings weren't given to me so I could fly too close to the fire
desire wasn't supposed to burn me the way it finally transpired
Always dodging bullets and cannons of your flippant lust
I'm requesting you to employ a little tact, if you must.

You're the firecracker of the 4th of July
Shine bright for a fleeting moment, only to leave me high and dry
What's left of you in my mind is some awe and debris
and little traces of what I think looks like memories.

When you can’t decide whether it’s all or nothing

You bait me in, with the taste of a little something

I’ve been there too many times before, to think it a gambit

Please don’t come around again
and make me a victim of your habit

Please don’t make me a victim of your habit

The night, oh nights, I fear the most
you come around softly rattling the doors
the bulbs they're swinging, the wind is singing
they join your cacophony, now we're two forces at war
but I've no choice but to surrender to you like a helpless whore.

So when you can’t decide whether it’s all or nothing

You bait me in, with the taste of a little something

I’ve been there too many times before, to think it a gambit

Please don’t make me a victim of your habit

If distraction is all you need

There’s the world at your feet

Many a nubile mind will gladly let you inhabit

So why make me a victim of your habit?
Please don’t make me a victim of your habit.

Wasted

every single day, I’m wasting

I’m wasting

every single day

every single thought

is so hasted

like I’m waiting

on something better

that something may never come

yet I dream that it will

someday

and I won’t waste it

I won’t waste every single day

Baby in a basket at your doorstep on a rainy day

Hello old friend,
We meet yet again.

The knife in my back
The insurmountable attack.
The fuel to my fire
The disappearance of the object of my desire.
The ying to my pang
The poisonous fang.
Not even a friend to his zone
It's another year, alone.

While everyone is getting hitched
I'm looking at you, Rejection, you crazy bitch.

Older, none the wiser

Archaic to the point of obsolescence
yet the crown on our heads we can't shake off
this rot will spread if not curtailed
but in this country, if you're older you're respected by default
whatever your viewpoint may be
archaic
     to the point of
            obsolescence
your ears aren't weak because of age
they're weak because they were never exercised
I'm angry with you, grandfather
because if you're supposed to be the well-educated one
what hope can I keep from the rest?
I think the cleanup is required
starting from my own home.