Undone

Like a sycamore tree
between the old townhouses,
soon to be removed to
what fits the new perspective

What changed the leaves to seasons,

housed once the beloved children.

A painter's muse under the sun

is now a nuisance. 

Uprooted for your narrative,

only parts of me you shall take.

Not the shade, not the life,

only what you think is the rustles I make. 

Soon there shall be drums
played to silence the voice of the once-mighty tree
Chop chop, from branch to branch
echos the papercut of the unsung

It's just the job you say, nothing personal.
One must fit into the square box, 

lets cut the trunk, let it be undone, so you fit in the box,

is now a casket, that holds more than one dead.

Imposter

My house, my sanctuary,

each floor my state of mind.

fear of the presence of the intruder,

I hide in the safest corner.

A lonesome livelihood,

the threat from the forces,

I hold dear to my heart

the single instinct to survive

The uninvited guest, 

the possible death of me,

the courage to thrive.

my will, the weapon at hand. 

A warcry, 

I unleashed the beast in me

hammering the prowler,

 a disabling move

Guilty are these hands,

the raider, my own demons,

the thing I injure, a self-reflection

who am I? an imposter...

Postcards

Send me a postcard I said,
to the brave new world,
to see what you see,
and be part of your journey.

What seemed like a confluence,
turned out to be conjecture,
let's chat by the sea, nevertheless,
water under the bridge.

One may say no more,
the euphoria of these postcards will always remain.
Beneath my diary, my words,
your postcards, your picture worth a thousand words. 

...

The one carried you, with care when you first arrived,
now 6 shoulders and a veil of white carry you out...
Silence has befallen, a lot had to be said it seems,
a lot was not answered or asked...

The tug, push, pull and what might have exploded,
that now it has wretched,
not just my mind or my heart,
my soul is twisted

Often times all smiles are not heartfelt
that sparkle on your eyes,
mimed the misery you hid so well...
The curve of your lips was not known upside down

Oh please let gravity pull you
back to me,
the space beyond clouds are too far for me,
come back to me,
gone too soon, gone too far, gone forever...

Castle in the Sky

Sometimes when you burn the bridge,
You set your cities on fire.
Just to live in the skyscraper
away from the ashes of loss.

The solitude of the moving castle
a symbiosis of the morose state.
The secrets are in the whispers
and so are the truth.

Oh well I have found clarity
in the voices inside my head.
To have our stars never cross,
I direct my compass to the colder north.

Sometimes two nice people are not meant to be
friends, confidants or more.
To trace back the step in the sand,
much like walking on burning lava of my burning city.

Book

I started with the chapter fresh as new,
seeing and then reading you.
Illustrations gravitated, acknowledgments given, 
I imagined your words and thoughts.

Everything that happens to you,
I write in your book.
Your smiles and eyes,
hardest ever to describe.

And like those seasons,
the changes so subtle, so beautiful.
Few years apart, the hue, the texture,
another verse, a new revelation.

And then you were a story in the making,
honest were certain encounters.
Conversation, contradictions, contemptuous,
my narrations insignificant and erronous.

So here we have an unruly moment where
I do not wish to read anymore.
And perhaps, you, my dear are no book
decidedly just a chapter in mine.