The Nature of Despair

An abandoned space,
Offering no warmth, there is only-

The taint of spilled beer
On the lipless walls,

The pollution of over-hasty excrement
Hanging in the air,

The promise of release in the drained syringes
lying exhausted on the floor.

A space so silent
You can almost hear
The whisper of your sanity sliding
out the space underneath the door,
Leaving behind madness,
And it's hungry gaping grin.

A cold clenches the lungs with angry fists. You can’t
.....breathe. And all that is squeezed out of you in the end
Are sharp tears thick and portentous as a newborn baby’s choked cries
As it enters our world.

I lost weight (with no dieting!)

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

They fell all around me
Desolate wisps of hair
Thick black and sad as night. Serves it right!

I’ve too many things
In my head
And of late, it’s an extra burden
To carry around

No, It’s not enough to just let it lie
There, hair is not like
Ears in it's quiet reticence.

Hair is an attention seeking animal.
It demands washing and is forever starved
Sucking endless tubes of conditioning,
oiling -
Then in growing thick and fat
It leerily shoves it's unwanted presence
into your face

Until one day
You wake up and realize
You’re living for The Hair!

It’s too much
To expect of one woman!
Sweep it away, I will not cry for it’s passing.

I am tired of poetry

Friday, September 29, 2006


Wasted minutes of my life
Spent pressing sweat-sticky fingers
To fevered temples
Prodding ideas better left for dead
Turning these over
Hoping to breathe new life into this desperate attempt at resurrection
Then thinking-

How to make these untrained words
Dance into well-formed patterns,
Step into well-timed rhythms
And work them up to a breathless final ending.
I insist on a crescendo of new meaning!

Why all this suffering?
What I used to appreciate as art
is now just jumbles of words
lost in it's meandering