Category: Uncategorized

Oh, what a lucky day!
A student’s briefcase fell
into her hands
with several credit cards
How yummy yummy
yummy
They will take it, gut it
with their thieving fingers
Inspect it maybe
Nobody needs it anyway
How tasty tasty
Three credit cards
They will not use them immediately
but put them in their thieving pockets
What lucky pockets!
And leave town

Vanitha means desired
means loved woman
Vanitha is the supermarket
where they will try out
three credit cards

Vanitha 02
Is loved loved loved by three stolen credit cards
Vanitha 02
Is loved loved loved from 23h03-23h04

Midnight stains the windowsill, a shadow licks the floor—
She whispers love like counterfeit bills slipped beneath the door.
Her kiss, a loaded pistol pressed to my collarbone,
A heist of trust, the safecracked heart we’d sworn to leave alone.

Lipstick smears on bourbon glass, a ledger of her lies,
The locket in her pocket hums with someone else’s eyes.
I trace the cracks in her alibi, the bloodstains in the thread,
While sirens weave through silence, stitching futures to the dead.

“Darling,” she croons, “the jury’s blind—they’ll never see the knife.
We’ll bury truth where roses choke, and call it second life.”
But moonlight spills her fingerprints on every vow we broke,
A cyanide confession in the smoke of her last smoke.

The clock strikes guilt. A shot rings cold. The walls bleed neon blame.
Her ghost now wears the wedding band she melted down to flame.
They’ll find the cracks we papered with the skin of borrowed names,
But never how her laughter hangs, a noose without a frame.

There’s a man with bright blue eyes falling down the subway stairs tonight. He was bleeding before the fall, but it’s going to be worse after. He’s not going to get up. He’s going to lay there till he dies. He’s going to moan and cry and people are going to walk by like they don’t see him. He’s going to die bleeding and screaming and being ignored by the only people who could help him, which is how he’s lived his whole life up to now. But that screaming man with his blue eyes is happier in his final second than any of the people passing him by. Because that man has a secret. And if anyone stopped to help him, the scissors in his pocket would go into their temple. And I think the people passing know that on some level. And that makes him happy. Maybe the world isn’t so bad after all.

I kissed you at midnight, my hands on your skin,
Whispered sweet nothings—concealing my sin.
You thought it was passion, the heat in my stare,
But love turns to murder when built on despair.

The gun in the drawer, the poison in wine,
Each sip was a promise—soon, you’d be mine.
A heart full of secrets, a house full of lies,
You begged for redemption, I silenced your cries.

They found you at dawn, cold on the floor,
A note in my writing—”I loved him no more.”
Now steel wraps my wrists, the jury won’t see—
The deadliest weapon was always just me.

The gavel struck hard, my sentence was clear,
Yet none heard the truth I whispered in fear.
They wept for a man with blood on his hands,
While I played the role their story demands.

They spoke of your kindness, the love that you gave,
Not of the nights I fought to be brave.
The bruises, the threats, the locked bedroom door,
The crime wasn’t mine—it started before.

I sit in a cell, but sleep without fright,
No footsteps will wake me alone in the night.
They call it revenge, they call it a crime,
I call it justice—his life for mine.

And if I must burn for breaking my chains,
Let hell take me in, I’ll smile through the flames.
For love isn’t love when it steals your breath,
And sometimes the answer is written in death.

If I am the girl drawn adorned with thorns, see me.
If I am your keloid scar, anaesthetise me.

If I’m the tap that drips out of sync to your
steady steadfast slow breath, teach me.

If I’m the serpent strangling your calf, I’ll suck poison –
venom on my tongue – an impure art. Feed me.

If I’m the callus on your thumb catching skin –
A shot of rum for every pass, soak me.

If I’m the hungry dog days curled on your bed
for the scraps I’m fed – don’t parade me–shoot me.

O, how I would bark and piss and spit! – the true fight
against the cowards’ word in verse on your fist. Hit me!

If L is for your gaze, then you must be a tiger –
this scar reaches deeper than my jugular. Eat me.

If this needle blunts, promise me, you’ll carve
my name on our Sessile tree—Eleanor, deeply.

A wolf once roamed where the wild grass grew,
Its shadow stretched wide in the morning dew.
It lived by the howl and the scent of prey,
But the wind had schemes to alter its way.
The wind spoke soft as it twisted the pines,
“Why hunt alone in these endless confines?
Follow my course, and I’ll guide you near
To valleys of plenty and skies crystal clear.”
The wolf, though wary, obeyed the breeze,
And wandered far from the forested seas.
Through deserts of dust and cliffs that groaned,
It sought the treasures the wind had intoned.
Yet when it arrived where the wind had led,
The land was barren, the rivers were dead.
“What trick is this?” the wolf barked in despair,
But the wind just laughed as it teased the air.
“You trusted a song that cannot be seen,
Chasing a promise of places serene.
But I am the wind—I carry no weight,
And those who follow, inherit my fate.”
The wolf returned, though ragged and thin,
Its fur was torn, and its ribs showed within.
Yet it stood once more in the ancient trees,
Where the earth had roots, and the air was free.
“Beware,” it warned to the beasts of the wood,
“Not all that whispers intends what is good.
Let winds blow wild, let temptations play,
But never forsake the soil that stays.”

To the tune of Yesterday-With apologies to Paul McCartney

Yoga pants
I spend half my life in yoga pants
don’t do yoga, I don’t even dance
oh, I just live in yoga pants

Wintertime
cold outside but I don’t have to freeze
Used to garden in my dungarees
but yoga pants have set me free

Yoga pants
at the wash –I give a lonesome glance
in my robe it’s just an awkward stance
waiting for my yoga pants

My best years ahead
I have thrown out all my jeans
no more
zips and snaps
I’ve made peace with my ice cream

Ring the bell
friends at the door and I just have to tell
all the glories of my circumstance
oh I believe in yoga pants

i have a pain in my heart
this throbbing ache
when i see your face
or hear your name

within a moment
my insides collapse
my ears can feel it rain
out pours my eyes
my breath unsustained

your red hair orange feigned
you wobble and i watch deraigned
i pray for you in my arms
my love
i would make it go away
i know G-d has you
oh special one
please bring them home today.

After Ed Sheeran’s Bad Habits

Every morning on the ground, I see you can’t say no
Every time the sun goes down, you dig a great big hole
In your radish paradise, my garden dreams implode
And each night my veggies pay the toll

My bad rabbits eat my peas; my carrots for stew
Conversations with the neighbours: you go there too
Glaring at my healthy grass, wishing that it would do
Running out of crops to lose, or use, or view

My bad rabbits lead to tunnels under the gate
And I wish I could control all the places they stray
I keep looking for a cage that they cannot escape
Nothing that they can undo, mine through, on cue
My bad rabbits they can chew

Ooh
My bad rabbits they can chew
Ooh
My bad rabbits they can chew

Every good intention ends when the munching starts
You don’t have good manners but you’re clearly very smart
One day you’ll eat something bright
that makes your world go dark
You only know how to go too far

My bad rabbits gonna scoff their way to the grave
Eating random stuff is dumb but they think it’s brave
They are never gonna last if they don’t behave
Try to fix their hutch with screws, kung fu, and glue

My bad rabbits need to stick to clover and hay
Gonna eat the ferns or swan plants one of these days
If they ever think the buttercups are a buffet
There’ll be nothing left to do, renew, bad news
My bad rabbits are confused

Ooh
My bad rabbits are confused
Ooh

They went the wrong way round
Munched ivy from the ground

My bad rabbits ate some bad stuff, now I’m alone
Their migration was a danger; they didn’t know
Wonder if I’ll get some new ones; I probably won’t
Now my garden dreams can bloom anew, it’s true

My bad rabbits’ eyes were wider than their poor tums
All the garden stuff they stole was probably yum
They were looking for escape, now their end has come
I feel bad I let them chew – it’s true; I knew.
My bad rabbits met their doom

Ooh
My bad rabbits met their doom
Ooh
My bad rabbits met their doom