Not getting on with it

If you ask me
I want to change nothing
the walls can remain grey
and the cushion warm
let the ceiling fan cough,
even the words and sound
hanging in the air
can remain like that
as long as they don't come
crashing to the ground,
a long time ago...
I wanted to kill the clock
but it kept ticking,
the books can also stay
paperweights, the tablelamp
amd the familiar smells,
you can keep on asking
but I want to change nothing

Tremor

Let's drink to your silence
to the cracked toe nail
and the whiskey breath
to the static lizard
to the dreams dripping
from the edge of the night
and cheers to the whore
memorizing her moaning routine
as she rubs her snake skin on mine

June

You breathe, I listen
we wait for the rain
the clouds, cruel as ever
go their own way
and broken wings of dead butterflies
swirl in the hot wind
like rainbows split in between
a mad cat runs in circles
biting its own tail
kicking dust, chasing flies
sniffing the blazing air
it's ten in the morning
no one walks the street
the shades are drawn
the stores are closed
the leaves burnt to crisp
our shadows weep
big angry tear drops
fall on the cracked ground
and challenge the cruel summer

Mother

One day I will count your silver hairs
and we will sit beside the big window
breeze touching your crumpling skin
and we will welcome the silence

That day your pain won't be there
the food will forever be hot
your saree will be starched to crisp
and your couch soft and warm

You will sing in your clear voice
and read out stories for me
your voice laced with happiness
and dreams, hopes and memories

Your hands will smell of fresh spices
sunshine will light up your eyes
and I will sleep in your arm
dreaming of galloping horsemen

Nothing will fade out again
the pictures will hang in a line
your comb will be clean and
your glasses wiped with a soft cloth

One day I will collect your love
from every corner of this house
and make scars with their sharp edges
in the empty hollows of my heart

Heavy Rain

Finally it rained in the morning
a sudden eruption at exactly five o' clock,
washing the window panes, the balcony,
the empty bird cage and the guava tree

the milkman was late, wet crows
huddled under the car shed,
one wet tee clung to the clothesline
waiting for deliverence

clocks lazed to the next minute,
the rainpipe gurgled with happiness,
the bedcover wet with rain
bleeded its colours on to the white

sleep came in bursts
warm, hugging, hypnotic drowsiness,
the heavy eyelids stitched together
watching dreams of floating clouds

fingers made circles in the hair
lovers naked and peaceful
blew out perfect smoke rings
and watched the rain outside

Some Afternoons

There's chilli garlic butter
crumbling toast and iced tea,
last night's hangover
feels as loud as Pete Townsend
and the bathtub smokes
with warm water and spicy smells

Cheese omlettes cut real slow
the white ooze creams out
Sputnik Sweetheart, Kafka on the Shore,
Bukowski, Jean-Dominique Bauby
all sleep with their pages ripe
waiting to be devoured slowly

The air-conditioning is perfect
humming away its rigid cold,
grey pictures hang on the wall
great grandfather with black moustache
looking at a bubbling lava lamp
throwing an eerie orange glow

Dinky cars, autobots and shot glasses
stand in a line against the wall
jostling for space with a cube clock,
a bottled sea horse and kaleidoscopes,
receivers blink away wild and endlessly,
someone makes love on the mute lcd

On the couch a cushion lies crumpled
no sound, no wind, not even a whisper
the mauve on the wall melts slowly
tick sounds louder than the tock,
sunshine tumbles in through a crack in the curtain
madness marches on like a wild horse

Sunset Bleed

We drowned in the sea
you and me,
bloated and soft,
with sand between our webbed feet,
we walked and crawled
and smiled and died

Smoke rose from the hot pools,
crabs dived in a frenzy,
dead turtles swam ashore,
the sunset bled orange
and our fingers wrinkled
to a bleached white

The tide came in
and when the water rushed back
the beach was bare
except you and me
and empty sea shells and dead fish
and our naked souls
scaterred here and there