Parallax

The road home is suddenly unfamiliar. Turning again, a fleeting moment of deja vu
feels almost like hope.

The mirror becomes opaque with time. Looking again, a fragment of translucent glass
pierces the heart.

The people we love grow distant. Trying again is like looking at a spot on the horizon
with one eye closed.

The displaced object only appears so because of the change in the position
of the observer.

2 poem: Palace of Justice 2

in the dream antigone hungers for justice like a child

needs breakfast after the fever has broken fever so high

like a fever has stepped on a crack and snapped its own back

antigone all white robes as they wore back then a rope round

her waist though she is daughter of a king always daughter

of the dead king a life defined by ghosts another life defined

the hunger a wolf clicking its wolf-teeth the father dead

it is the only taste at the tip of the very very edge

if you won’t serve it to her serve it here fill her with it

fill her hungry me poor antigone axed for lack of it

for saying there is none

so a man would make a play about there is none

so you will know there is none

so the hero of the play can learn something new, true

and you learn maybe but not antigone (who was right) is

only need is never satisfied we are never

i drag bodies around this earth i haul buckets of sand

toss sand on them, on him, on my true brother

where tossing sand is best next option but i starve.

Simple and Sweet

Mediocrity in life
Make a choice
Take a chance
Somehow rising
It is happening
Where did it go
It has disappeared
Finally released.

Hour Two

Untitled

 

Begging doesn’t work with me

so tell your eyes to shut up

 

and your feet!

singing their frustration

stomp

stomp

stomp

 

Stop!

 

Listening to tears screaming

down your cheeks

is exhausting

 

How am I to know

how your feel

if you won’t tell me?

Mama’s Proud Possession

I am my mom’s possession,

the very dear valuable asset

as she proclaims.

 

She’s such a darling and

loves me to the moon and back.

 

She wishes to eulogise the world,

but keeps her pack of aspiration to herself,

thinking her dearie bundle of joy, her only child,

her apple of eye, her right direction,

will fall prey in the eyes of the materialistic world.

 

Yes! It’s me, who’s my mama’s proud possession.

With her optimistic approach, she always inspires

me to stay upright.

 

Every day with her positive vibes,

though from a distant town,

she nurtures in me the value of self- help and maturity.

 

Her straight forward tutelage,

allows me the spirit to do what I feel the most;

as I am my mama’s proud possession.

 

 

Unsaid

The unsaid

The unresolved

The unhappening

It rankles

Like a pebble caught in the bloodstream.

Screaming yelling

Why don’t you get it

It’s so simple.

 

Weaving webs

To the stars

Back & forth

From the pebble to the dotted sky

Hanging forever on this web.

 

Looking out

Holding breaths

Sending out silent vibes

Prayers of the soul.

 

Some desires

Stay with us

Like pebbles rankling in the bloodstream.

_narinder.

2.

How to say how I long for you

Like an obsession, black, oozing,

Gripping my mind with inky talons

I’ll handle it. With my hands I’ll handle it.

Grappling. My fingers lock around its neck and I squeeze.

I’ll squeeze until it bursts in colors of crimson and ultramarine

Black and white and emerald green. Yellow oxide.

Colors of flames and explosions. Colors of forests
and dark haunted lakes. Sunsets, fogged banks, and cityscapes

I’ll squeeze these tubes of color onto a palette and scoop them up

With bristles, real and synthetic.

The only way to tell you what you do to me

Is through acrylics.

On stretched canvas.