Balloon Man

I used to sell balloons
Filled with a sense of calm;
Blown with lungs full
Of confidence, and a hope
Of your return; willing
To wait a million lifetimes,
With the mere thought of meeting
You again, lit by a solitary match,
Flickering away in a vacuum
That looked a lot like you, born
From your receding silhouette.

Now I'm selling the scrap - those
Busted balloons - discarded
At the price of toxic waste;
Collecting shreds from memories
Hidden in ailing dump-yards;
Deep inside the woods, where love
Could have sprouted instead;
Where a recessive hiraeth now
Walks alone, amidst memories
Of when we stared at the stars
And sighed, hand in hopeful hand.

I've always been a balloon man,
And always will be; just that
The balloons in my hand
Go through the various stages
In their journey across existence;
Mere atoms of rubber glued together,
Forming an identity, swelling up
And receding, or popping for
Trying too hard; letting go yet
Clinging on to a punctured identity,
Begging to emerge from the darkness.

A Walk Outside

How long will you wait
Before you burst out, out of line?
Would you like go for a walk
With you tied to a chain of words?
What do you palpitate for;
Why do you pace up and down,
Panting like a period melting
Into a semi swollen comma.
What or who do you see outside,
That you want to mark your scent,
Lifting a leg, sprinkling the air around
With verbs that disregards the subject?
Would you wish to dare and dissolve
This identity we hold together
Each time we realise ourselves?
Or do you look for a mate
To find you by the scent
Of the traces you leave behind
With every carelessly uttered word?
Come, let me take you out -
Tied to my words; you may tug
And take me wherever you want -
Down the deepest trenches of structure
Or up rockiest surfaces of speech
I shall hold on till I can, and then
We shall either return, or you shall
Break free and chase a prey, enjoy
Your freedom for a while, as I
Run around trying to grab your tail
With parentheses and quotes;
Then we shall stroll back again, into
The comfort of our heads, you
Panting with excitement, lapping up
The fluidity of thoughts turning
Into action, as we build our lives,
With these structures of identity -
These sentences we've constructed
For ourselves - living, walking,
Phallic symbols - breathing,
Talking to our 'selves'...

When I am With You

When I am with you, 

Weeks fly by like the wind

And the days they melt

Like chocolate on the tips 

of our passionate tongues.

When I hold your hand, 

I feel at peace, connected

To the universe through you,

And through the universe, to me,

As I focus my energies

On that little spot on your neck

Where I want to plant my lips, 

As I curl up by your side, to be at

The safest place on earth for me -

Our arms and legs entwined.

And when you are gone, 

The picture perplexes itself

Into a million scattered pieces

I cannot connect in a lifetime, and

Meaning sheds itself like that dress

When it slips off your shoulders.

But when you are with me, 

We are one with the universe -

United like our curious fingers  

And our synchronised breaths;

As we climb over walls of passion,

And dissolve Into a unitary world

Where you are me and I am you - 

Rising together, awakening as one.

Solitude

Sometimes there is a loneliness

Worse than that of the solitary man

Cleaning and shining the floors

Of a McDonalds outlet at night;

Long after everyone's home,

All the smiles tucked away -

Lazy heads on cozy pillows,

Warm hands wrapped around

The ones they love and hold dear;

There are cars whizzing by, but

Even they're headed somewhere;

When even the watchman outside

Has a smiling mannequin for company.

Maybe, you hope, as you gather

Your karma, that someday the floor

Will be wet enough for you to see

A true reflection of yourself, and

You can then call this solitude instead...

Intrigue

We use these words as pieces

To join the giant jigsaw puzzle

Yet we limit them with classes,

Inventing 180s to justify 360s

Drawing a full circle right back 

To where we started - Shoonya

Dreaming up a million worlds

As we live through these cycles

Of birth and rebirth, drifting

Into sleep, then awakening to

A world of forgotten meaning.

Yet we use these words, axes

To dig in and to hack our way 

Up the stony walls of truth;

Hanging on by fingertips,

Trying to free ourselves

From this celestial intrigue

Woven out of the threads

Of you and me, when there is,

Truly, no self - only an illusion;

You and I, mere reflections

Of who we really are - of us.

Springtime

It is nearly springtime, the colours are back

And it won't be gloomy too long, but now

Your hands are careful, like your words, 

As you head homeward; your backpack

Filled with responsibilities packed

For a lifetime; I know you must go,

I can see the basket with fresh bread

From the bakery, and flowers journeying

From the meadows to your centre table;

But you could stay for a while, you could 

Ease your back and I could calm my mind.

I know your itinerary is already populated

With motels and dinners for two; that

Your plans are made, your will is firm,

And that this fire may not last the night;

But I've given all my blankets away, and

These rains have brought back the chill, 

So if you really can't give me your love,

Then at least get me through this winter...

This Moment

No, I don't want to kiss you,

But let us kiss this moment

That contains us tonight;

For it surely is as beautiful

As you appear to my eyes;

This moment, created

By our collective pasts

That led us here together,

Joining our worlds through 

Our words and our eyes

As we look into our souls -

Those depths where we find

True reflections of ourselves...