Sunshine – Day 1
it drops like honey-
manna from the sky
it pierces our skin
roasting it medium brown
it lends us a copper taste
heating the blood in our veins
but as much as it keeps us awake
it takes our sleep and runs away.
it showers the greens,
feeding it with love
it kisses the trees ,
blessing it with might
it comes and goes
in waves of fortune
but as much as it feeds our needs,
it drinks our up our water and slinks away.
Unsaturation- Day 2
Oh, it is so blue;
Of a cerulean hue
Like the dry sky past noon,
Holding a sadistic crescent moon.
Oh, everything is red;
I can’t hear what’s being said
In the strobing nightclub disco lights-
An atmosphere of headaches and fights.
Oh, where is the green?
Which in trees are seen,
Like the pointy hat of santa’s elf,
With a jolly bell to please himself.
Oh, where is the yellow?
That of the bright sun’s glow,
Petals of buttercups and daffodils’ smiling,
Looking up and spelling, ‘no crying!’
What then is the colour of my soul,
Where a black hand has covered it whole?
What then is the colour of my mind,
Where only machines you can find?
(It’s no colour you can find,
It’s like walking in the blind.)
The Guilt Monster- Day 3
In the fluid of my heart, shots are fired;
And as shots underwater do, they swerve,
Smoothly, silently: breaking barriers.
My blood changes colours, like cauldrons of
Witch-brews on a flame of words.
The fire, the heat in those words plague those
Bloody walls: haranguing them, hurting them:
Guilt is a ricocheting bullet that rests
Only when you tell your mind to stop
The beating of your heart and capture it cold.
Of Summer- Day 4
Of being waterboarded by heat when stepping out
of sealed, insulated, metallic boxes;
of being fed green,
pregnant boulders of juicy blood-red flesh;
of having a new glow
that adamant, chlorinated water provides gladly
to sunscreened skin;
of beach posters and sand
sticking to moisturised soles
and crabs nipping away at pedicured toes.
Of a man that rubs the white, itchy pads
of his fingers against dark, angular fragments
of dying sediments, minerals
and shattered rocks that once boasted
of being strong and powerful;
of young eyes snaking their sights to the skies,
looking up expectantly like he’s expecting a new toy
and old eyes guiding their gaze to the wells,
sighing into nothingness for fear of having nothing.
Of revolutions and protests in the Gastric Passages
that are ignored by primal authority because this nation is not sovereign
but subject to the nosy meddling
of the superpower Nature,
by the disease of Humanity.
Faith- Day 5
My mother ties black threads around the wrist- a thread blessed by God to ward away the world’s ghosts and demons. She has always been a believer, a staunch griever, and faith is the home for her dreams and fevers.
It was a thread of many fingers, wound up together- hundreds in number, like the wisps of faith I held in empathy and love- threads blessed in the darshan of a collective conscience of people, having seen suffering’s toll.
With the same strength I wind it around my wrist and ankle and mind, and only hope that those demons stay away from my handshakes and kicks and stop me from going blind.