sewing in blood

if rambo sewed curtains
instead of his arm
what strength would he
place in the cotton,
resilience to tugs and pressure
from a climbing cat
or a child wishing
to see snow from a
winters window,
it need not be war
it need not be pain,
sometimes curtains close
out the things we wish
not to see,
but does rambo need
to sew them every time

poetry , poem


Necrosed Ideology


raw pressed flesh sore

beyond scabs flecked insolence



blood threads awful sign

of tangible fluid

life in crimson



orchestrated pain

handheld waves of distraction,

tainted tongue sings mettallic



secreted thoughts weeping tears,

unfurled ideals a barren burned flag,

lighten the heart as you pick



into the arena

no pressed olive leaves or branches

all that was ancient spilled

overnight into turgid oceans swell



eyes of expectant ones

embracing the sore flesh your body


tragic tide of words come



the machinations of policy

as the wounded lain in constitution

heart blasts trumpet

from the top

all visibility is bright in context

and the healing begins



Marvellous Breath

the foetus hired by

a different ideal,

had a bigger importance

than life,

created as a fancy

payment to democracy,

to pave a way

for laborers seeking

more than death,

with unblemished mind

like a cherry in the beak

of a thirsting bird,

words come on the

quiet wind,

mother feels you

wake and sleep

birth and dawn akin,

to be laid in a basket

of flowers,

bright eyes

changing wind

to laughter,

there would be

no more fallen

on foreign fields

leaves left on the surface

of a swift stream,

lips reach to the eclipse

there is other life

abide the balm that now

oils your body,

first voice the only voice

from subtle throat,

a silver link

for tender distances,

the soul will surmise

a transition,

surrender beauty

bring communal tranquility,

kiss mothers breast

milk not sunburnt wheat

tasted there,

all is complete

democracy feels

a quenchless spring

unlittered by irony