The loyal pugilist, maneuvers A shopping trolley, with speed and poise, Through a decorated Wal-Mart, knowing That back home, there’s a Cricket Match on, while the queues diffuse, As you look at the bargains You secured. How on this day, The trolley becomes a sleigh, While Karl Marx, lives strangely, Inside a Capitalist bubble, ...
How nirvana means different things to people, A nicotine high, some cannabis, A little coffee to take away the cravings, A sugar cookie at the corner shop, A meat pie from a 7/11 store Or under a mistletoe tradition. How the best part of the day, Is looking at my wife listening to Eclectic music, charged like a nectar-full ...
Didgeridoos like alp horns, Kaleidoscopes of mystical sounds, While they gather around a fire, Learning that their throats Are spirited, and their hands Are full of corns. In this outback, the choice Is getting high on pituri and cheap alcohol, The type that is distilled, in a Queen’s land. How the kangaroos came before Us, and learned how to ...
A round Eucalyptus bark, gather, B reathless groups of men, dark as cocoa, O verlooking a rusty dome, Uluru, it is called. R emembering an adolescence of gleaning, I ndustrious in harnessing the abracadabra of a land; G oing for a bath to a billabong, to a high on pituri, I ndigenous, and still loyal to a land of ...
How in tens they appear, Through the ghostly woods, Shaming Walmart. Those deciduous branches, A far cry from tips of antlers. Like acorns & pine cones. How in the heart of winter, Caribous trek thick dunes of snow, Masts but no sail. Tundra in a meltdown, While the boreal shifts latitudes, As do caribous. Through misted snow, They rally ...
We don’t deep fry our crickets like in parts of Vietnam, we Make men with defective joints, Into a fanfare, a circus. How 800 test Scalps, is no small feat, As a smiling assassin, surpasses Crazy Horse, in counts and statistics. Cricket, needed a universal hero And that man who owned A Jam factory, made a trick like Houdini ...
There are places like the stones of Stonehenge, Older than most sights and structures, Made of the mortal and the divine. While Golgotha, is the place, where one man, picked a rugged cross and climbed up a hill, while whips cracked like flames. In one sacrifice, which only counted to three days Inside a coma, a man showed, To ...
My mother is the type, who even if good old Santa Clause is running for the local election, would not vote for an obese white man. for her the “X” is so precious, you could say she thinks of herself, as bigger than the whole electoral college. She will never write on a festive card, the word ...
How a woman, who escaped A barrage of stones danced to Jesus, The sweet music of a mandolin, A step closer, the belly dancing navel, Looking like a whirlpool, sultry And inviting. How a woman, who could Sweeten Jesus’s lips, with The sweetest flow-through Of viscous honey. Her body, which like the walls of Jericho Recovered from ...
One of my earlier poems that was accepted by Kitaab journal, was published just today. Please take a look if you have time. Poetry: Sunday by Dilantha Gunawardana
My latest poem to appear in a peer-reviewed journal. Its always nice when you write a biological poem that has relevance to nature and perhaps drives home the message, how vulnerable some species are. The journal is Canary Literary Magazine. Enjoy! http://canarylitmag.org/contents.php#745
How after 4 years, together, we see two indentations, on a mattress, the beauty sleeps, that become discolored impressions, You see, as a measure of time. I can’t help smile, seeing my wife, keeps her legs hoisted in the air, to allow for the tadpoles to swim through by gravity, while a Sunday Times newspaper lies beneath her, on ...
How we loved, the exhales, To the exfoliants, the chemistry, Of what was so tender, and if not, Unrushed, The little bit of daylight, between me And you. How we let our blindfolds, Strip our pupils, our peep holes. While we begin the seduction, Juxtaposition-ed fragrances, ever-closing gazes, The mouth in extenuating circumstances, Mouthing, With the sail raised, “Ahoy ...
The difference, between “my father”, And “our father”, is that, one gave me life, In the form of a tiny, swimming tadpole, And stood as my canopy, On my darkest night; while the other, Gave me heavenly incandescence, To evaporate my tears, and to mirror my face With the saffron sun. While I thank my father, on his day, ...
Here in Sri Lanka, We call our lakes, oceans, like Parakrama Samudraya, Built by human endeavor. The depths That are muddy, laden with freshwater weeds, Floating salvinia plants, And little fish, absconding from Fishermen’s hooks, while children bathe With a sense of freedom, as women Balance pots on their heads Taking water home. We let trickles grow into A ...
Lalith died of complications of the lung Pneumonia they call it. Haemophilus pneumoniae And water in the lungs. He inhaled sooty smog And air conditioned with Legionella He ate koththu roti with Staphylococci and cockroach droppings, He kissed with Herpes and made love with a strain of Gonorrhea He ate MSG filled Chinese for all three meals, And had ...
