now

when do you realize you’ve found it?
is it when drops of water no longer cause
a ripple effect
or
perhaps
when you have proof that your talent is real
and not only fabricated.

when do you realize you’ve found it?
perhaps it’s on a Sunday
you’re laid-back with a
glass of bubbly,
awaiting stretches of white sand.

when
you realize you’ve found it
perhaps your face will be leather
and
you can trace the flow of rivers that meander on
your skin.

when you realize you’ve found it
is
in the final glimpse,
a shot of colour
before black
and
maybe that’s when you’ll realize
that you had it all along.

Silky riches slip between my fingertips,
diamonds and pink bugattis,
alabaster-white jets and infinity pools.
Pass by and expect to break necks as
he drinks in my crimson allure –
tipsy
with flushed cheeks,
oh the way
this dress captures my shape
like cat-like models
in opulent magazines.
My curves flow in a river of luxury,
and all for tenner
a new identity,
a whole new me.

 

one a.m

I’m a little teapot in the rain at night and I keep on filling up

I am a castle
standing tall,
beneath
the endless rain
that tumbles & falls
into my open mouth.

I watch how the water threads around
my sturdy body in an endless loop,
around
and around
and around,
BUT
beware of the one who lurks…

snap says the alligator, as
she
turns to the intruders
– watch out, for her
arrows will rain on you like sparks so
hide your men.

Well mine are hidden deep within,
huddled between these hot wet walls
awaiting my orders.
I am made of asphalt
of the softest kind,
the mutest grey,
held together by vanilla icing,

hoping I don’t break away.

They say that there’s a Heaven and Hell awaiting us
which is funny because I can’t remember hanging around any particular place,
during those 9 months, waiting
for her to usher me into the world.
I’ve now learned that
black space acts as the book-end to our fleeting existence.

I remember the day
she fell into an eternal slumber, colour cut to black:
all that remained
was a shriveled body in a box,
waiting to be devoured by angry flames.

Since then, I often see her drifting around this vacuum.
She floats at a jaunty angle,
dwarfed by a stretch of endless black.
She is still a skeleton draped in grey.  Her headscarf has polka-dots.
Sometimes she looks at me, her watery blue eyes opened wide.
Sometimes her mouth opens, calling my name silently.
She’s there, waiting for me to come and join her.

I brainstorms ways to free her from that place, find a way to unlock the celestial playground that sparkles above,
so that she has a chance to experience colour again or
possibly
find a new hobby to bide her time.
But for now she has to wait and be,
drifting along in the blackness of my heart
until
it’s time for us to be together
and finally break free.

 

‘quiet people have the loudest minds’

Aloof. Stuck up. A bitch.
Whispers swirl above those coloured heads,
clumped together,
hissing away.
I watch them as
caged words
laze on a heavy tongue.
Vistas of silence lay between us,
an invisible barrier
that forbids the other to venture through
unknown land.

Laughter dances upon their
juicy lips, damn,
those
care-free smiles.
Wide eyes and light words
spill
into tumbling waterfalls,
before they splash and settle
into perfectly crafted sentences.

***********************************

In my world all rooms have a sign.
#1 CARDINAL RULE: No interacting.
No talking, shouting, whispering, debating, miming or
ushering language of any kind.
ALTHOUGH YOU CAN
smile, blink, sigh and laugh alone.

BANNED: Charlie Chaplin, Greta Garbo, Harold Lloyd
Anyone outlandish and exuberant: leave yourselves at the door

WELCOMED: shaking leaves, shrinking violets and
rose-blush flowers,
come up here and pull up a chair.
Bask in the afternoon sun
as crooners wail their velvety woes
on a circular stage.
Feel yourself sink into the sofa plush chair,
and indulge in the silent air.

[If only the world could be silent sometimes. It would be wonderful to live in a space where being silent didn’t make you cruel or boring – it just meant that you were inward, that your world is already so loud that it needn’t be made any more amplified.

Only when that paradise opens its gates and becomes revered: we’ll begin to feel normal again]