Black Canvas 

Though light bright;

but on black canvases,

naught is given.


These words

Delicate these words are

For  one day we shall all die.

Think twice before you dive

For all is one; love, laughter and cries.


The ocean secretes virtue,

It harbours secrets;

But, it never interprets nor judges.

For you must let go to grow

To incarnate your emotion like

an ocean.





My heart sank

It sunk deep

into the abyss.

So deep into

the sea, no

glimmer of light

can enlighten

the path to hope


My heart sank,

it sang rhythms

of love trapped in

the past. Love of one.

The one whom he

forever loves.


Birth Story

In dark hour my existence

was conceived in secret.

Suspended in fluid like

aqua man, I’ve grown

bored of this cavity.

1989 I escaped from womb,

umbilical chord wrapped

around my neck choking

me at depth to death,

as I took my first breath.

Born in water, I rise like a

baptised child, the doctor –

John the Baptist.


I hear joyous sound but

blind to their happiness

for I am born into a world

of anarchy where protogeometric

pyrotechnic problems are

embedded in every footstep.







50 Shades of thoughts

It is of course inevitably pointless,

to reverie in what could have been

and what couldn’t.

The earth’s rotation imparts

swirl of gyration of emotions within.

Two-faced orbital individuals have me

shifting attitude like magnetic needle

in a fluctuating altitude.

Made in the purest of form,

50 shades of grey,

50 shades of ashes;

two colours only

like binary digits

have them giving birth

to 50 shades of race.

Confiscated thoughts

“my mind locked up in the future, so i reminisce

from this confiscated viral matrix.

infected social  loop have me rooted

around people living their life in circles.

changing by the minute the swirl in

this liquor have me changing by the second.

riches the capital goal for capitalism, my mind tied up,

seized up, locked up in this du-rag allowing for infiltration

of  feint hope.

one-man single player mode like play-station sony

have me feeling monopsony. born on a full moon in cold winter,

but then winter existed not. i drift in fluid, all too soon a visitor to the new world;

dark of skin, blood on skin, kin to quiet man. born on a full moon, from womb my end already

determined to end in tomb”