and it’s the same
every night
the sound of a fan slowly bickering
filling the room
and my head
the same red bed
with a dirty mattress on
and a few mobile phones

there’s nothing here
but the slow death of nothingness
hitting your head hard every night before you sleep
weep , run , hide
it’s the same
every night

a mosquito flies around me
And i feel better
better than the nothingness that surrounds this wintry night


take this or

there are only a few things

that i want in life now

like this bowl of cereal

or the chair that i am seated on

a pen and paper

or the sun on this wintry morning

Music in the distant ( not here)

or a road trip w/ my sisters


There are only a few things that i want in life now

and they’re not here.


just a night by the fireplace

You’ve come to the end now
Says the black thing
Near the end
and it burns away
but we’ve only begun
into this night
dark already by the evening
little light
only cold winds
Blowing from left to right
we’ve come to the end now
Says the wind
but we’ve only just begun
Little noise
no one speaks
everyone around is dumb
it’s a lot better
this way
Says the man in the city
but we’ve only just begun
surging into the night
music plays on
And on
it doesn’t stop
We’ve only just begun
a single light is lit
and people stay numb
numb by the fire
the cold cutting through ones finger
facing the fire
and the wind
All at once
we’ve only just begun
green shades
And a man in Black
says we’ve come to the end
i say
We’ve only just begun
let us smoke this cigarette
and we’ll be fine
until summer.


the possibility of a new city
is frightening
and more so everything stinks
toilet insides,
classrooms and kitchen sinks
everyone you meet in the new city
is against you
and somehow you can’t tell them you’re afraid
nothing’s new
everything stinks in this new city
i’d rather close my door and sit inside
with a song to hear.
and then it takes some time
to sink in
the city
a year or three
the streets come easier
a few eyes seem softer now
nothing strange about them
there’s little fear
just that
unsettling feeling
telling you
that you’re in a new place
and alone
and then you laugh with the man in the food truck
the crazy watchman telling you stories of a drunk night
a stranger with a cigarette for you
a singer with a smile and a song
a falafel for the road along
and then one night
when your senses are down
and drunk
you let the city in
Nothing stinks

dumbing silence

the truth is slipping
and i know
sitting here inside closed windows and a door locked
music playing, trying to get through to me
all the poets in the world
sitting dumb in my mind
all those words
those people
the poets
trying hard to find

i could sit here and and just sit
with no peace or purpose
and destroy the time that is to come next
the falseness of it i can smell
that’s the way it is
and i can hear all the people saying it
that’s the way it is
but the truth is slipping
and i know it
when i see four walls and closed windows.

under the foggy bar-lit

she’s a really good singer
i go to the bar every night
with a glass of rum by me
waiting for her to sing
the next song

if i’m not wrong
her show runs till 12

it was the same
for that whole month
and then the next day
she doesn’t arrive
and I go mad
I ask the man in a blue tie
the lady
and they gibber something
but i know she’s gone

i wait for her
seated on that seat
drenched in rum
waiting for her
or some other
to sing my sorrow
in words.

this could be the same berth

where you and i

Lay down

Upside down

Touching and breathing into each other

as the whole world slept through

we were awake and alive

with each other

it could be the same berth

Or another.


it was colder

Colder than usual

my shirt drenched in the rain

that rained for three continuous days

i needed to stop

the cold wind blowing on my chest was just too much to take

there it was

a good sheet-shutter

homing a tea store

With a few men smoking and looking at the white light from the single bulb hung out at the front

once in

i lit a cigarette

And it’s strange &  comforting incense

the smoke

provided some warmth

my body, was shaking still

i could be ill

Or something

but i decided to ignore thoughts of illness

the smoke and it’s warmth were better

i stood awhile beneath the sheet-shutter

and my cigarette was over soon

the rain had stopped

and it was time to go

And so i did

I started my bike

And i was on my way

two minutes into the ride the rain came down

and the cold wind blew hard upon my chest again

i looked for a sheet-shutter

to home me and a cigarette maybe

it was too late

1 a.m from my watch

i rode on


there, there.

I can’t deny that I’m alone
in the midst of these trees
Clouds and Rain
Dripping down the tree tops
And filling the noiseless silence around me
lights alight here and there
and the smell of a cigarette lit in the distant or near.

I can’t deny that I am alone
in the midst of a thousand people and more
laughing and singing
songs in a bid to fill the silence


we never quite reach there

loneliness is in the air

and it’d only be fair

If the trees

the clouds

the rain drops all consider being alone.

the truth is
We are all alone
In the midst of these trees
people and laughter
crying a lonely death
breathing every sickening Breath.
all alone..

fuckin’ miserab.

it’s that dab feeling again
it tells me time and time again
the same thing every time

every song , every poem
well sung and well written
that needs a reading or a listening
I will listen and read
and pay heed
To every single note and word
new and old
un-read and unheard
I will read
and pay my respects to them
for that feeling tells me again
And again
that I
Am the middle child of a fucked up generation
that lives on a high
reading and listening
To songs and poems
from stalwarts and real talents
who give reason and life
to empty city streets and lonely bars

I feel miserable
Every time I listen to a poem or read a song
thinking of the person behind it
and then turn on to the next poem or play the next song
to feel that miserable feeling again.
And again.