Christmas is as much about The bravary of a Hebrew man Who took the virgin’s lie Under his wing, and made love A fool’s choice, being fooled by god And everything fate stood for And yet that foolish man Became the unsung hero of a mythical tale In the forbidden dessert Of a long journey to Bethlehem When in ...

Love It’s white in the beginning Only to transform to Pink customs Bringing about crimson flushes And scarlet flames Desire is a pricking device That gives you pins and needles From the inside Testing your patience And love, in past-tense On a mattress, is peak-perferct On mortal plains, and sin Is the flag on a mountain top When Essence ...

Men and women warm up their interiors With a little coin to a ragamuffin Or praying loud and hard next to a crucifix Or sharing a facebook page of a lonely beggar child Caught unaware to the camera. Knowing freezing point is when The engine of the conscience will have Ice particles all over their nuts and bolts And ...

Tulips inside buckets on street markets Crying for a little attention, of passers-by Little canals streaming past granite brides And lovers of all nature, eclipsing Little body parts – touch enumerated like A parade of butterflies settled on receptor termini The testimony of human emotion in a little girl’s diary The ineffaceable marks of a bittersweet history When hope ...

Seated at the corner seat You can catch a nose-full of smog Carbon in mono- and di-oxides polluting the lungs This is a typical bus-ride in Sri Lanka When you pounce on a death wish A fast death – in collisions or derailments Or a slow death, as you inhale poison vapors And listen to the diabolical decibels Shattering ...

I took out a king-coconut Which I had bought from a street-side vendor A matured ripe orange nut That I slashed with a carved knife, When the water that was pressed inside Beneath indomitable walls Spurted out and some splashed All over my yearning lips, To teach me an empowering truth I had forgotten with time. How absolutely sweet Freedom was…..

How thrifty is cheap, you ponder, and then you realize That it is the nagging thought in your head, That always checks on the prices on display, And goes for the least, you being the cheapskate. While the rich man, looks out at dawn, At a day in a spa, or at the plush cake shop, While the poor ...

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA The essence of a string that is plucked Into minuscule waves of perfect harmony The beauty of a muse played by musician Four boughs and bows bonding in mesmerism Gifted are the gift bearers of providence Violins are the toys of maestros And they play, bosoms bared through lacey gowns Temples hoisted and fluttering to an ...

An article I wrote a few years back. I’m surprised I’m still alive and sane in 2017. My binge eating hasn’t killed me and I haven’t had a breakdown. I guess I owe God some gratitude. ————————————————————————- As everyone in the world is well aware of, Dili or Atlas to the whole wide world, is still laboring in agony in ...

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 ...

The Christmas snowman inhales Through a pointed vegetable, a carrot stick That makes Pinocchio shy. A vegetable that spirals downwards Below the top soil, a tap root screwed Into the ground with a little help from phytohormones. History venerates of the house of Orange A royal lineage that made a household stick A little orange in color, although fact ...

Wife……. Always the golden girl in your life. The gold rush in your heart The gold fever to your flesh The gold lump in your throat. And the gold pans inside your eyes. She possesses sandy skin, interlaced in gold thread Her body is gold country, and you begin As a cartographer, but in time, you become a prospector ...

There’s a poem called “Losing it” by Roxanne Gay (Gay of course used in a Harassment Context) On Poetry foundation today And I, like an idiot, with a Twinkie wish, – Searching for my morning snack – Looked only to find a yawning interview there. I don’t shy away from battles The Philistines have big feet and tall shoulders ...

There is a lonely leafy tree On the corner of the front yard A legume by the vernacular “Kathrumurunga” Sesbania science tells us And this tree carries a hefty dose Of vitamins and minerals, an elixir of sorts And on top you find the sky branched Out in to moon-lit boulevards So many silver crescents falling Through my iris-sketched ...

There are the unexplainable The Roswells, where alien life forms Slither past as ghosts and scrap yards In the middle of a desiccated dessert Are filled with phantom lights And the human body is like Roswell. We have little deaths that make us rise. Little hangovers that make us fall. We have one feeling surpassing infinity And one act ...

I don’t know all the possibilities Of a wine glass. They are random Carved into chance; serendipity to snake eyes. And still when I take a wine glass In my hand, and sip her a little My fickle lips become steady To your firm contact.

I remember watching a movie in the 1990s which centered on a man being pregnant. Yes, an impossibility, except in the case of sea horses, which too are only able to fertilize the eggs, and carry the little sea horses to term. Still, what if by some strange twist of fate, men could get pregnant. Well this is how ...

From an amphitheater Of one martyr to a ghost town Where the fragrance of souls And stubs of candles still hover Like alien space crafts UFOs – Unidentified Flying Objects Seemingly there is no glory in church In a rundown colonial edifice Cracks emerging like in the bastion of faith Plastered by story-telling Seemingly this too is a parable ...

Everyone one of my friends has kids. Some 2 and others 3. Its almost always more than 1. Like everyone wants A company or crowd But never a monocyclist Or a string quartet. And my wife and I, we plan To bring one rug rat to the world. Who will run circles around us, And make our blue veins, ...

You ponder what is life? The American poets have it easy, Being the ones who get to shove Their poems down so many journals. While in this part of the world There is very little we can do But postbox a poem down the shaft Of an editor, at a reputed journal far away, Who will blindly look at ...