Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Her Street Identity

Oftentimes you will see her
humming her emptiness
to the death freezing hands of mortality,
shouting her pleas
(which often go unheard)
to the wild blue yonder...

and down,
rests the doom;
the home of the wretched.

On the harsh, hot street
she wanders 12-16 hours a day
while some of us neglect and shudder...
burn the bitter truth
through the idleness with mad remarks...

Some of us just walk through parks
caring less of the images in our eyes
having deaf ears for the innocence...

by her,     little babies cry,
with her,   little young ones sigh...
searching for their fate on the street
scavenging through trash
for something to eat.

Hell is real to a youth of no voice...
watching cars, selling flowers in the morn,
begging for food at noon
and when night time comes...

She find strength from inhalants;
Glue, Rugby and drugs became her Gods...
her tickets
to momentarily empower
her fantasies;
where she pretends to fly away
and yet only in her memory.

Such a frightful picture it is
for a potential girl to grow up in,
accepting the cold nights of reality...

Her dreams never come...
She screams but is never heard...
She hides...

She hides her fears of the dangers;
sickness after years of breathing exhaust fumes
harassment from extortionists,
often policemen and peers.

And in the heart of the innocent
where joy is less and pain hides pain,
she joined a group, The Gang,
a choice to a path towards darkness
where the devil stones cuts the flesh of the soul;
yet it never bleeds.

A life in a cage where endless woes are introduced
The battle of life and death
In the Street's activities

PICKPOCKETING is a little bit thrilling
in PROSTITUTION, agony is a true hope
DRUG ABUSE is tempting...

is coming
to her...

In her dark devastating demise
where her home has never been a paradise
subtle tremor ripping at her core...
She looks at us
but some of us don't see her...

and there she cries
with the street children...

is one
the valuable lives

Friday, March 18, 2011

I Came too Close in Saying Goodbye

I can't say goodbye to you
No matter how I tried
You're such a part of me
Without you,I would die
Deep in the heart of me
I know that You and I
Were meant to be together
I can't tell you goodbye
-Helen Reddy-

It's funny how sudden
Love turned to Hate
Cursing was my last option
but then,a tiny little voice inside me
Isn't this man taught you how to be strong?

I can't believe what I could give
Courage rises from the ashes of outrage
I sink a little,hurt a lot,but I live
for You;my Avatar of Strength
Existence is one spicy crippled twists
Said some of my gray-haired buddies

No matter how I tried
to make a step and give up
I can't

I simply can't Dad
How can I give up a part of me?
How can I give up a wanderer
meant to conquer my dreams...
a star conceived to dominate my quintessence?

In your eyes rests the basis of my existence
In your smile I acquired strength
to love you more

So how can I say goodbye to the sun of my universe?

I won't...I can't

I love my Husband.

In Cimmirian Winds

The frozen stream of my realm 
took a deep breath 
and chants welcome the morn with calm 
peace soothed the core 
of my feed up soul 

The casting of light beams 
took over the darkish dim 
A dramatic scene sparkling... 

at the edge of my wearing lashes 
phoenixes soar,flaming 
Ever daring 
So many of them 
danced with the doves... 

exquisite movements 
stained by the strain of my silence 

In a kick of the tide, 
reality bites! 

I sit my concealing heart 
so intensely wounded 
that I.... 

I wept. 

I dreamt within my solitary dream 
hoping my amber eyes 
found solace with a springtime's grace 
But,sadly,the very core of my sighs 
shouted it was all a murky guise... 

Hands closed tightly and fractured, 
fighting against simple desires... 
that can't be mine. 

How long still I would wait, 
immersed here in Cimmerian winds, 
challenging the violent windstorm 
for a little smile beyond the norm?

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Raped and Murdered Under the Moon

Raped and Murdered Under the Moon

 Sun beams glided through my window pane
A reminder that it was morning and again
I had to get up and do the same
Work, a little argument here
and a little bit of laughter there
That was my life...

I felt
the droplets of rain
hitting my skin
And I found myself
on the cliff of my course,
looking below.

The river of sorrow
was inviting me

was it death I saw?

That night
coated my every nerve...
The perves,
they were coming towards me.

Hunger for meat
reflected on every tooth revealed
by their tightest devilish grins

They started to hold me
tease me, played with me
I wanted to shout my torment
with each baleful beat of my beyond-mending heart

But they smacked the stone on my head
The next thing I saw

I and my nakedness...
I, the destroyed mirror...
I bleed...
I was lying half dead.

The gang had succeeded 
The devils had raped me.

All my hopefulness morphed to pain
The air I breathe was hurting,
always rewinding 
of the throes that endured inside my heart.

I became 
a blank canvass
a silhouette in the darkness...

and after five days
My Constellation 


Death consumed my all.


Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Her Sighs Injured the Morn


Her thoughts flowing 
On the stone cold walls
Of her melancholic dreams

Her weary brain
Seems to care less about what seems
True or false

Terminologies are there 
Gambolling on her tongue
Dawdling within the doors of her lips
Anticipating in sudden sorrow
of what is to be found

Perchance it's in the barren devouring dusk
Covered behind thick bars of fear and misfortune
Falling, failing, missing the clasp of existence 

Maybe it is gone in the crater of her anger


Maybe things that are meant to be
Will find its way 
Like how the incubus smothers her All


In every cycle of the morn
Green grass gladly grows
Beautiful flowers blissfully bloom
But She...

She falls into pieces
Lays down her scars in silence,
And within her soundless screams
Is the flawless violence
That plays without end. 

Monday, March 14, 2011

The Ruined

From there... 

I travelled the tail of time 
in the realm of truth and lies 
like those of simple metaphors 
of straying fools and bourgeois whores 

Praise its infinite trials 
and its bulk of denials 
for it was in their scalding streams 
where I was forged to the extremes 

Upon the space of my intuition 
wave the clouded sea of deception 
the great pretenders of day and night 
stars and moons made of plastic lights 

I became... 

The lone woman who seek peace in gloom 
a phoenix 
who dwell in the regions of doom 
the one who speak and dream in nightmares 
a mistress caged in the dungeon of fears 

And soon...

A Sad Solo Night

There are two of us
but sometimes
I feel
I am solo

he is a step away

I wish
I am a ghost
at least
I know
I am visible to none

you see
I am human

a ghost
to him

for tonight
we are two

and i feel
I am solo
so low

This sour-less thought
makes me ache
because i sought
and still seeking
his tenderness

care less

oh and these
melancholic song
cradles me on the breast
of the sad solo night


Aloha Darkness

the eclipse
the total eclipse
is coming...

Aloha Darkness

the tapping
and tiptoeing
of the crows

hear them?

The north wind blots out the flame
and the Rain
It consumes the fire left within
my fragile walls

My effervescent dreams
They sleep
in sweet oblivion
coated with ice
tenderly covered
with my ever bitter-sweet demise


Hello darkness
I'm home
see my smile?

It beams
in requiem style.


Here i am to stay
with you...



Invitation to Hell

There is a broken metaphor
Hanging by the ceiling
Scented with a timeless
Damned fragrance of paining
Screaming in greediness
For under the screwing ceiling
Is a maiden
In towering pain
A dark unknown
In senseless evanescence
Constantly betrayed
By the damn metaphoric color...
Oh deathless fragrance of hell
Lead the blacksmith to the springs
Where the tangled strings
Of lies playing
And nothing
I repeat
Can mend
Her immense pain.

The Black Rose

There is a rose so deep,so dark
No glints of light or little spark

Nay people lay their eyes on her
They misconstrue her limpid care

She is a rose on gothic tomb
No lifeblood creeps her catacomb

The moonbeams wish to give her life
But every ray begets a strife

There is a dead rose withering
Spoiled by winter,putrefying

Somehow,somewhere there's poetry
That saw her with grim prodigy;

A monolith of weird banshees
The kinds that stirs the poetess.

There is a black rose on the floor
Quashed in the darkroom,evermore.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

A Suicide Note

When night comes along
there starts the menacing song.
The doom looms over me

Their hands
that pricked,
that burnt
the very essence..
of me..
of my feminity..

The wind,
it brought the pain..
the years I've spent
accepting the syringe
filled with the beasts' urine.

The scars,
it brought the charred scent
of cigarettes thrown at my chest...
They molested
the best in me
and killed
my dreams....

Tears emerged from my locked
and the heat
I felt it
tracing my veins
to my heart
ran like thin razor blades...

I bleed...
I bleed...
I bled...
          for years.

Then came the pictures...
my loving mother...
my father...
my brother...
my sister...
and the time we spent together.

I bleed...
I bleed...
I bled...
          the more.

So I took the poison;
my only option
to escape from this prison...

In my all consuming,
I lay
D E A D...

with  a note
for my family
saying I was sorry...
I tried to live

I bleed....
I bleed...
I bled...
          for years..
I was molested!

 This poem, A SUICIDE NOTE was written after i read an article, BANGLADESH -- WOMEN & GIRLS COMMIT SUICIDE TO ESCAPE SEXUAL HARASSMENT "EVE TEASING" that was forwarded by WUNRN. Further information on WUNRN may be found at The article itself may be seen at:  

Thursday, March 3, 2011



sometimes i wonder
did i ever fail you...
the one i hold so dear?

yes i know i failed to...
express the limits
of my rapturous insanity
to let you know
what consist of my beating heart
is you...

you and you alone
I see
in the night's obscurity...

yearning and obsessed to my touch
you whisper words of such
beguiling and teasing eyes
and oh to my surprise
your lips are inviting
enticing my reasoning
to exceed
its restricted meaning...

my thinking whirling of you
where i caught in between believing
I am awake and just dreaming

my dearest darling
i failed to...

detailed the delight of dreams,
the clearness of calmness
that you're here,
here at my range of sight.



At night, when all she could see
was the strange spectrum of light
the deafening silence brought her to that day...

she did all her might to fight
but then...

she was raped.

None had seen how she kissed...
She bitterly kissed the lips of Lucifer;
two cryptic maniacs oppressed
Her and Her allness

Terrifying visions of her horror
float like slivers of chains
attaching her crimson-stained innocence
The fall of her poor

The gross piggish crime
committed by the swines
caged her to a place....
the bruises....
The Bruises of Mercy.....

and so i was told
it was a place ...
a place where her screams
even to the ears of her lame....
lame, weakening will...

My poor beloved Domestic Worker
she travelled the vagaries of bitter,
stinging streams...
health-hazardous dreams...

She stayed that way
for nine months
until the day;
the seed that the swines implanted
in her unready uterus
grew and was ready
to come out and be a part
of the humanity....

She broke her silence....

Help, love and care came
but her pain internally
will never be forgotten...
it will remain...
in her veins...
in her brain...

At night, when all she could see
was the strange spectrum of light
the deafening silence brought her to that day....

and all she could do
was cry.....

She was raped.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

In the Heart of the Mother of All Scams

THEY, of stammering lips stance...
struggled to meet subservience
on the far side of poverty's dilemma
...see lurid dark in the brightness of the day.

THEY, of little, dried and skinny bodies
hugged the spasm of reality
chained to their feeling of appetency
...yawn feebly to the tail of the day.

THEY, of spirits reside in the crack lands
sought to obtain compliance
in the hands of their authorities, but....
...found atrocious anomalies.

THEM, of polished brains, grew
...the avaricious swines THEY turned into,
drilled holes on the peckish bellies
of the indigent children of Uttar Pradesh.

Nailed, THEY were robbed of rights
as hegemony belonged to THEM
THEY lost their tongues, they lost their sight
ignorance...shut their lips.

And night, springs that of screams
In most countries it seems....

Is an.....

Oh so disgusting...
and ever growing