Monthly Archives: October 2012

Do you have any idea?

Have you ever waited
an eternity just to catch
a glimpse of someone?

When your skin
and bones and blood
and sinews have
become just waiting?

Like the eyes of a
drought ridden
farmer on the horizon.

Like the eyes of an old
surfer scanning the blue
for the perfect wave.

Do you know what
it is like not to participate
in the passage of time?

Do you know what it is to
wait so long that you begin
to forget what it is that
you’re waiting for?

Do you know what it is
to wait for a miracle when
you have lost all faith?

Do have any fucking idea
how much stupidity it takes?
How much insanity?
How much hope?

Do you know what
happens when you
finally meet her?

I wish I could
describe it to you.

I just don’t know that
many words.

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My crazy, sweet love

Some days she talks
a mile a minute.
She talks the house down.

About cabbages and kings
About thoughts and things.

Some days she’s silent.

She’s there
but she’s absent.

And I know she’s
on the shore
of a quiet moonlit river,
watching her tangled
thoughts flow
into a distant,
unseen sea.

And she makes little
boats out of
her letters
to me.

And as they
they go bobbing
down the river
she cries a little tear
and smiles a little smile.

Hoping I get them.
All her love, all her longings,
all her confusion and
her yearnings.

And I do.
But I can’t tell her.

She’s there
but she’s absent.

Some days she’s silent.


Never ever

Never be the
needy one.

Never cling.

Even if you are
dying to meet
or speak,
never beg.

Love is best
when the fire
is equal.

When two people’s
want, ache, need
for each other
is the same.

And if it’s love you want
and not pity,
teach your heart
to be more grown up.

Ask it to shut the
fuck up when it goes on
a ‘I want, I want, I want’
whine like a five year old
in front of a toy store.

You can’t ever own anyone.

They will come to you
if they respect you.

They will stay if they
like what you are about.

Love is not about
tits and asses.
Love is about spine.
It’s about dignity.

Learn to take a
‘no’ or ‘not interested’
on the chin and move on.

We are country of
two billion people.
I’m sure you’ll find
a few who’ll say ‘yes’

The numbers are
in your favour.

Remember that.

Also that no one
respects a beggar.

Do you?


And you change everything

Half an hour into
the party and you
sitting cross legged
before this guy
who’s leaning into
your cleavage like an
animated messiah
and you, his first
disciple and I feel like
such a slave to have come
here at your invitation.

I hate everything
the acid jazz on the stereo,
the cold  kebabs,
the pretentious cunts in
designer labels.

And suddenly
you get up and brush
past me.
Your shoulder, to my chest.
Your palm, to my groin.
Your lips, to my cheek.
Your eyes, to my eyes.

‘ You’re enjoying yourself, love?’

Hell, yeah!
I am!


A proposal

I know you are taken.

But I didn’t meet you
before the guy in your
life did when you were
fucking twenty seven
and so dumb, so see,
the bets are off.

I bet you have seen
want in his eyes.
How long ago was that?

Before it got tinged
with faint irritation?

You want to see craving?
Look into mine.

I’m sure he made a few
cool moves in his
time that broke your heart.

You want to see restraint?
Look into mine.

I can’t even make a move.
I can’t even make being high
an excuse to
touch you, carelessly.

You are watching now.
You’re smart now.
Did you even care then?

Any hormone crazed guy
who professed eternal love
would have done, right?

What are you even talking about?

Anyway I’m not pressing the point.

This is what it is.
You want me.
I want you.

I will not go down
on my knees to ask you
to fuck me.

So tell me nicely.
Will you?


That thing called joy

Happiness is
the knowledge that
you’re loved.

It’s knowing
that someone,
somewhere right now
is staring at a computer
screen with a smile,
thinking the same
impossible thoughts
as you.

Happiness is the
absolute inability
to wipe that grin
off your face.

It is the heart
humming so loudly
that the mind
can’t hear anything.

Happiness is the
absence from one’s
body while still in it.

It’s waking up in
the morning smiling
and shaking your head
in disbelief at how
much of a teenager
you still are.

Happiness is a heart
that never
grows up.

Ever.


Do you hate enough?

What defines you
finally is not what you love
but what you hate.

Raging is as much
a proof of living
as loving is.
And about as powerful.
And only when you hate
things enough do
you get to change them.

The trick is to hate
things and not people.
To hate principles
and not practitioners.
Hating people is petty.
Children do that.

Gandhi had nothing
against the white man.
He hated slavery.
See what freedom
that got us.

There is not enough
good hatred in the
world.
It’s about time we built
a good appetite
for it.

Don’t wish people dead.
Wish things dead instead.

Things that oppress,
that hurt, that demean,
that kill.

Hate as well as you love.

You are as much about
what you stand against
as you are about
what you stand for.