I have been forcefully secretive. Sworn to secrecy. I have had nails stuck through my palm, Bled on thorns, on whips and chains. All in the interest of being sociable. Being able to socialize. Society - a sick joke.
Désirée, Pin-prick the silence Dropping in, You’re the death Of every one that crosses Your black cat path. Heart-breaker Mood-shaker You’re a thrill-chaser Running out of time here You’re a smile-faker Mood-shaker Window cleaner Wiping off the tears Dear departed, Left your keys in the locker. Don’t come running back for it, You won’t come running back for me. You ...
We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming. Please stand by. Escalator temporarily stairs Sorry for the inconvenience Rainbow palette cleanser Blue screen resurrection Allow me to introduce you to my past life Hi, my name is irrelevant. This is where imagination goes to die. This is where imagination goes to die. Tie your hair loose. Dye your split ends. We now return you to your regularly scheduled ...
Okay. Perhaps not so dramatic. Still, it feels as though a chapter of my life is coming to a close, and a new page has been opened. Blank paper fortune cookie. I do hope I get into ACJ. It’s going to be tough but I’m up for it. I wasn’t sure if it was too soon. I’ve only been in ...
These were compiled over the last few days, not quite sure where the inspiration came from. Started reading up on Metatron’s cube after revisiting The Mars Volta’s The Bedlam In Goliath. I swear that album does things to you. Used just Paint.net, layers, polar inversions, twists and turns for these, and geometric shapes. Got “Voltar” printed out on A3 paper ...
I am my mother tongue before I am Muslim.Does the mother tongue precede the father of belief? I may not be well-versed in Tamil, but it means more to me than my religion. It is simply about what connects deeply enough. Prostrating in unison, I feel connected, yes. I feel submitted. Conversing in union, however, is submersion to the very depths.
I was introduced to this band over a year ago in Hikkaduwa. Either I stumbled onto it, or it was a friend who had me listen to them. And from the first listen, I was hooked. Singata Mystic Queen was the first sting, and then came Double Freedom. Fuck. One amazing album that is Long Distance Trip, their debut. Since ...
I will be performing a set of spoken word protest poetry, sing-song folksy-blues-pop and trip hop to make your ears flop! Charcoal Gallery Cafe, Hotel Road, Mt Lavinia. 7:30PM. Entrance: Rs 100.
Ten thousand hours and I am still no better for the effort You are no longer the scale to which I measure the passing time To passers-by this is just another rhyme, “Excuse me, do you have the time?” I don’t have a filler line, I’ve covered your absence with the dust of dusks, forgotten the patterns my fingers would ...
So we had a poetry reading of sorts last week at Green Path, where Open Mic once took place. It was just a few of us, some having to leave early. But everyone present did read something, and we had a few rounds of poetry and even some prose. There’s something of a review here: http://www.thesundayleader.lk/2011/12/04/just-words/ Krishantha did a rendition ...
This month we will be having yet another poetry jam, the same open-mic sort of thing. Anyone is welcome to bring their own words, their voices, guitars, harmonicas or even a book to read from. My work has opened up a lot of opportunities for me, and one of them has resulted in this event receiving its own venue and ...
We never quite could tell strength from stupidity pride in perseverance the point where stubbornness purchased a harvest of futility If the body has forgotten how to sleep what chance has thought to teach its subtleties like tenderness or faith All that could matter is the reciprocating want of flesh wordless and beyond translation to idea or category nothing numerical ...
This year my New Year’s resolution was to be thankful. I think I have done okay. I have made it a point to say thank you. I, quite habitually, take people for granted. I am still working on this. I owe a lot to my family for continuing to support me, despite the unpopular decisions I have made in the ...
There once was a boy, lying down on the shore, sand in his hair and sand on his feet. Across from the shore was a house painted white, and on the horizon rose a wave, climbing to the heavens. It was as though gravity decided to take a day off, at least over the ocean, as the wave climbed never ...
Eyes set to the stars, gazing Lightning rolling across the periphery Of his mind, in her life Queries, quarries, quandaries, Under the signs of their stars Envisioned, interwining of paths Never to return their identities Ceasing to be who they were Entranced by the idea of change. Pouring their tears, swirled in glass, like wine Resonating along the contours of ...
I There is very little ink leftin the worldto expresshow the body yearnsto piece together the puzzleto break each wall downto build bridges betweenour eyesto give everythingfor nothingin returnto rememberyou are only boundto lose. II Count each blessingweighed, measuredand wrappedtightly, holdingtogether, comingapart, springingforth blue-blooded sunset,giving wayto hot-blooded sunrise. III There are no blind men hereonly those who choose not to ...
