Archive for November 2012:

get my drift ?

Monkey mind worries

On “us”



Intent, content

Of adrift

fork lifting,



Mending callow nuances

Drying backs of ears,

Presenting shiny patinas

Of exactly intended

Aired steamed








You Had me

you had me
at goodbye
I did try
to turban wrap
my mind around
your hollow hello
but simply couldn’t
try I did
do know, though~

Random Blues

Random Blues

Home Desk:

Piles of neglected notebooks eyeball mournfully
I tap away mulling thoughts in deliberate strokes
Daubs, drips, dribble on Face book’s chinned pages~


Skiffs at ocean’s edge
Are akin to those teasing chocolates under wraps
Pleasure lies in firsthand handling~


All of three, kid tumbling inside, blurted “we want a house”
Clutching a furry beat up bear to his chest, we said,
“Honey, come back when you are six feet tall”

Milk Carton  

Kindly suggest fitting mug shots
For placement on milk cartons, mom grieving
Under age nymphet poems, have run away from home~


Beauty is in the eyes of be(er)holders
Winter sportsmen, love heavily falling snow
Sore-eyed, snow felled, long for eternal summers~

Yin Yang Fun

You jeer
In jealous fits
At my obsessive
Kneading of words
An unwelcome third
In our golden lives~

My mischief flecked eyes
Meaningfully glance at those
Recalcitrant fingers pointing
Away from mournful chides
As they too gossip juicy tales
Throwing light on the unabated
Thunder, ebb and flow of jaw
Breaking vaulting decibel notes
In which you immerse self, daily ~

Circumventing this high voltage
Field of your obsession, I pander
To own lifelong stalker passion
Of romancing words, laying bread
Crumb trails of emotional highs
And lows, praying for affectionate
Nuzzles, swag in delightful bytes ~

Why Me?

Tiny dimpled arms

Reach out in foggy hazes

As piteous cries, rent

Night’s velvety skin~

The unborn get born

In the interstices

Of the living, dead

Or dead, living?

There is love and then there is love

Bodies melding passionately

Birth new bodies as pictures in picture

Get the picture?

Lovers almost turned towards maturity

Mantle of tenderness set to loom

In the happening, life miraculously unfolding

Then that awful falling off face of earth ~

Bruised solar plexus

Bleeding guts lament

In the forests of dreams

Bewildered wails pleading “why me”

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