Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Saturday, December 24, 2011
you held on
to your thoughts and ideas
and conversations that were meant to be
like a tiny child
holding on to a dream
and refusing dinner for a unicorn
like an adult
who saw a beautiful hat
in a store window
and came back later
to buy it, but it was gone
Friday, December 23, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Author's Note: If you'd like to know more about Apasia, try this link or this one.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
Friday, December 2, 2011
But have these people witnessed an opened cage? I have. And free birds do not fly. Open the cage to a captive bird and it will stay, for it does not know what awaits beyond the door. And then gingerly poke one foot out, not its head, but a toughened claw instead. And then it waits. In time it will hop out, but from there again it waits. It waits for a while, it looks around. Half an hour has passed since the cage was opened, the bird is finally on the window and ready to leave. Which it does, but slowly.
So are we free, like singing birds in an open cage? I think not. We're free-er still...
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Friday, November 18, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
cat like, she was cold, but willing
she longed to run her nails down his back
cat like, she wanted to mark him
she wanted to feel his hands in her hair,
cat like, her mane was abounding
she often slipped out, long before the dawn,
cat like, she was disappearing
she dreamed free when the moon was high
cat like, she belonged to no one
she was by his side when he woke in the morn
cat like, her body warmed him
Saturday, October 22, 2011
The wind rushed into her face and she squeezed her eyes shut to avoid the dust trail. He just lay there, holding her gaze the way a hunter stares down a gazelle before the kill.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Friday, September 30, 2011
In passing, the ruby red of candy like flowers and buds shone bright and dapper, turning faintly transparent in the mid day heat. She knew that soon, too soon, they would wilt; and very soon, she would too. It seems our benevolent sun is a killer after all, or must we blame the icy water for this murder?
She seemed peaceful for she was looking up. She seemed peaceful, as her corpse floated gently down the stream.
Author's Note: Reference to this and this
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
"How did you get here?", she questioned, holding his hand.
To which the crying child responded, "I'm sorry Mommy, I forgot to close the cosmic wormhole."
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
You wake, consciousness is dim. The trees glow faintly green; the smell of the earth is rising as the rain settles. You listen for the sound of water trickling into a stream; the feeling calms you. You begin to rise, but the movement tires you; you slip away again.
You wake, her head is on your pillow, her tiny, warm frame fits kindly in your arms. Peacocks gaze through the shuttered glass as sun spills through the sky lights; the room is a lot less cold now. More for your sake than hers, you hold her tight. Sleep pulls the wool over your eyes again.
You wake, the rain still falls relentless; your first thought is to look for a rainbow. The room is freezing now; you finally look around to notice brick wall and a tiled roof and, is that a snail on the floor? The chase makes you too weary, sleep has her way again.
You wake. She's counting the stars. Besides her, you curl and fall asleep again.
You wake, she sits and stares at you, wearing a silk shirt. She looks away, trying to hide her inquisitive eyes. As you to rub the sleep out of your own, finally she asks, "Leaving again?"
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Sunlight streams gently through the drapes, lighting up their eager faces. Eyes are glowing as they gaze tenderly, savouring the quietude of the early hour. He takes her hands devoutly in his and then bolts from the bed suddenly.
"Last one to the bathroom is a rotten egg!", he shouts, running.
She's laughing hysterically at the spectacle. Then she yells after him, "First one in has to change the baby!"
Their tiny house is filled with laughter even as the baby starts to cry.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Her lucid mind is spiraling.
She wants his hands, she wants them.
Dirty, undeniable, she wants them.
She want them around;
Hugging her. Holding her. Hurting her.
She wants them away;
Craving her. Awaiting her. Longingly.
She wants them besides her,
in the colours of a beautiful, vivid dream;
She wants them.
She wants them now,
To hold her, should she faint,
And to draw the curtains, when she wakes.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
On a day of spring, the humans decided to walk out on the leaves and leave the pets to play. No one usually entered their abode uninvited, but when the people were away, one feline thought she might let herself in. Quick and bright, with her lovely whiskers; she trespassed upon their hallowed land.
When the humans got home they were shocked to find :
Curiosity killed the cat.
Monday, April 25, 2011
"I might as well have left the window shut"
"No. A little dappled sunlight is better the harsh white light"
"True. So should we work in the darkness then?"
The two bring out a stack of cards and begin to cover the floor, everything acquires a reddish tint. A room that was dull and empty is suddenly growing in light and life and fullness. The glue makes an appearance and the cards begin their migration to the wall. Two hours later, one wall of the sunlit room is covered in cards of the hearts suite, the King and Queen have found their home.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Author's note : Written for a dear friend who's been in love with the girl who is now his wife for over 10 years.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
On the 4th of May, he performed his first experiment, umm... I mean, surgery.
"Super busy, the usual"
"Well, work is the drug", he sighs truthfully, "Second only to love."
"Ok. I have work, and you have love. So, we're even."
Wicked laughter, followed by, "No. I have both, I'm blessed"
"Truly, you are" I confess.
The commotion summons a tall man into the room, he is shrouded in black. Gently, he lays his warm hands on her swooning shoulders. "I'm very sorry my child, but it's time to go. Please leave him in peace", he says and slowly shuts the coffin lid.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
"Go", they beg, they plead, "You'll love it there; the people are exactly like you."
She listens, she leaves.
A week has passed, or maybe two and she's back now. The unpacking has begun, characters disembark her imagination and the everyday people flood in.
"Did you not like it?", they ask, "Was it a bad trip?"
"Well", she replies, "It was just as you said : Everybody there was exactly like me."
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
The moonlight is pale. The stage seems set. The air is an ethereal blue. The river is still, its' waters flow soundlessly beneath the tranquil surface. The blue-black sky and the moon's waning crescent paint monochrome reflections on the water. A character appears on the scene, the act for tonight is 'The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy'. Another character materializes from the underbrush and sets a device on the river's rocky bank. Strains of Tchaikovsky's divine composition begin to float weightlessly on the paper-thin air; music becomes airborne. The notes are falling relentlessly into their minds like rain; the cue has arrived. Both men shed their clothing and dive into the river head first.
He turned off the light and clambered into bed besides her warm body. Stirring, she reached up and quietly parted his hair. Drawing him near with tenderness, she gently kissed the singular strand; this had always been her ritual, but tonight something felt different. She sensed the peace within him and knew he'd finally seen it.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
He met her when he'd seen too many light-headed, fluffy tailed bimbos, incapable of holding their drinks down. He found her unfathomably refreshing.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Twenty years later, she met him at a party. An artist with a penchant for interesting skin, his muses always had spots. The moment he saw her, he knew he'd have to kiss every freckle on her body before he was satisfied.
When the police broke into their lovely house with pretty white walls, they found a picture of her bespeckled skin in every room. The neighbours said, they didn't invite people over. They were content in each other's company. Happy. Happily ever after.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
Autor's Note : Thank You for the thought, textualoffender
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Monday, February 28, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
the world were madly in love with him.
Friday, January 28, 2011
4 am. The bell had been rung twice. He opened the door and fixed her with a look that spelt disapproval, hurt and deceit. But then he threw the door open and let her in, for the same reason that you would let in a stray cat – your heart is melting.
He bends to nuzzle her hair and suddenly sneers into her ear, “ There’s only one thing I can say to you : You’re a dirty, filthy hippy!” But even as he was saying this, he bent further and kissed her anyway.
Beneath the day’s dust, grime and stale make-up, you could still see her smirk of silent self-accomplishment.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
of his skull. Even under all that pressure he didn't flinch. Then he
swiftly marked her milk pure thigh with a cruel red line. The pain
shoots like burning acid.
The imaginary pain shakes her awake and she's suddenly sitting straight
up, breathing heavily and sweating like it's summer in India. Fingers
levitate to the imaginary wound and the blood abruptly becomes real.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
The light is fading and he can’t remember much. He’s forgotten the shine of her hair and the way it feels between his fingers. The way she winces and then smiles at the pain. Her beautiful, bony, bare shoulders under a thin blue blouse. The way her dusty pink lips conceal a smile. He only remembers the words she said as a make-shift Goodbye, “I’ll wait for you, but not in this life…”
Friday, January 14, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
A dust-encrusted radio spits out an old song - Little Richard's band screaming, "Can't help it, the girl can't help it..."
She sidesteps the mangled, the tick-ridden and the runt of the litter. She walks on air as far as her stilettos will allow. Her perfume, as exquisite as it is electric, parts the way.
Walking amongst the most beautiful, she chooses the best and picks him out.
He stands for her.
He sits for her.
Rolls over, plays dead for her.
And then he will stand on his head for her.
She gives the dog a bone.
And then she runs along home.
An as she wanders off aloof,
the store clerk says, "There goes the goose."
Rhyme was never intended.
It walked in uninvited.
To throw a pang of amatuerish my way.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Friday, January 7, 2011
"I hate the French! If there's one race I hate, it's the French."
She walked before them; tall, beautiful and confident,
but a voice in her head kept saying,
"How I wish I wasn't French! How I wish I wasn't French!"