Submerged in the diversity of insanity
Close to the brink of knowing what
and who holds the key to the plausible
Witness.

On the banks of the river flowing,
Watching the trickle and flow go by
above the bottoms, where slow rocks
and greened living things only pause.
Too fast to see a reflection on the surface.
Shallow enough to wet easily the floor of
both hand and broken shale bed.
The day, not bright nor gloomy, somewhere betwixt.
Neither cold nor warmth, but that
comfortable soft of a morning after
Making love
or a late spring evening at a cafe.
Hair slightly blowing.
Not wanting to go back.
wanting to just be here, until darkness
hides the hills beyond.
Or crushes all the somber thoughts out
Entirely.
Maybe it would take days-
Days that aren't available.
Days taken up with the usual
Mundane but thankful coffee routine
Days at the gas pump, paying ten bucks
for the days movements here and there.
Days dreaming of reaching those
Goals, of doing those things
that get put off into some
Kind of desire box
that nobody gave you the key to open.
And in all those mundane yet bearable days
In all those wise books, where interesting
and deep, and successful people
Tell you...
where to find that key, does the flavor
of the ritual change from this AM
to this PM?
Not wanting to go back, but staying instead
Staying like it was, when sitting for
Hours under the stars with a best
Friend, or lying on backs to watch
Clouds pass.
It wasnt really vagabond-ness, rather the
Acceptance that time still didnt exist.
That passion was allowed to be free.
That the body held its own, even when
you destroyed it too frequently.
But more than that...
watching the water pass by,
I think I want to stay just here.



For my kid at bedtime:
If heaven were my best friend
and angels were like butterflies
and mountains were like ladders,
Id climb into your skies.
If orchids were like lollipops,
Id fly from tree to tree
there'd be plenty of honey
All for you and me.
Id climb into your skies

You the taste inside me
you the bliss of knowing tomorrow
you the kindness of words
you the gesture of grace
deep beyond what we dreamed
fathom hours
fathom our bodies
fathom spirit in the richest sense
love is the taste
even though you test me
even though you try to brush me aside
even though you taunt me to
say goodbye

അറ്റ്‌ ദി സെയിം time

Comfortable pain
At the same time
Numb happiness
at the same time.
curse nor glory
at the same time
Dull wickedness
at the same time
tender fault
at the same time
daydreamer haunt
at the same time
anger-less gentile
at the same time
delight-less empty
at the same time
soaring bearer
at the same time
news after news
at the same time
thoughts drowned
at the same time

ബോത്ത്‌

Being becomes;
loosing you.
No way back,
I still want.
Disheartened,
Still no voice.
Crumbled wishes,
back to self.
Only quiet,
snow quiet,earth quiet, night quiet.
Sad tongue taste.
Slow mile,
too fast.
Heart beat,
no feet.
Breathing elephant skin,
ache inside.
Solemnity,
secret wish.
Nevermore and always.

(JT)

അക്കിഎ തോമസ്‌

for Thomas

I.

Blackness loomed, darkness on your lips
Hustled naked, beneath these bloody ships
Slaving hostile, hope lost in tears
Walking the plank, as spit on the years
Damage is done, the priest kisses dirt

You fold it,
in tiny pieces.
You throw it.
It lights,
next
to
the dying ones.
Brandy and options were the divine
Fool in this laughter, over them climb
Numb grins soiled, daemons pressing in
Broken veins twisted, dust settles thin
Naughty hand sinew, sewn deep in eye
Four-poster...
post mortem...
post revolution...
lick it,
and die.
My friend and I, we'd become nowhere near
Death roses cross, bone surrenders tear
Nipples frozen, blue sky reaches down
Barren heart stark, snow as a crown
King of our century, slashed open shirt
you melt
you soften
dust
kiss
me.
Revolt mortal wish, old bastard whores
kneaded bread bodies, feed open sores
Brandishing youth, senility power hell
Disgraces forgotten, ancient world fell
The thing you and I, cast no one saw
Upon the living
may it
be said
no
more


Prayer
II.

In every failure
In every decay
may live the beast
Who chooseth to roam the mind

In every hollow
In every tree
as it turn into me

I know it not but become
as leaf to fall
as mulch to dirt
as earth that will agian
grow
life

As horse is to cart
Man is to spirit.

In

Incognitive the over cast mind sputtering
In cognitive differences between what is and aint

Indecisive thoughts of blue shielded memory
In decisive action to thus bear it nonetheless

Incorporate possibilities of therefore knowing
In corporate processes to become nothing less than

Inconcievable knowledge of more than this
In concievable achievment regardless of it

Inconvienient as timing pounds the road to dust
In convienient whisps of joy seeing the benefit

Intollerable fake beads of pain throbbing
In tollerable bands of forgiveness to let go

Intention decided by the overthrown gloss
In tention I thought it better not to

Inquest becoming its own leader postulated
In quest I did return therefore without it

Inside I found it glowing like night untouched
In side position it bore no likely tendency

Insignificant though it may have been then
In significant novels that may have said it

Insincere bounderies tumult wise men's hearts
In sincere depth it might still be bound

etc

The beauty of your rambling stride
and thickness of gambling roses.
Innocent as though forgiven;
Bound to concept and divination,
as battleships ponder melencholy.

On your cheek dark brown mellow,
higher than willows remembering us...
two before eachother, savage lest passion
Heed to awakening slumbers' desguise.
Who, tender to its call,rustles white.

Then turning bold skin to light,
frown erases that that never had a
chance of being less than this
To dawn, heroic stand of confidence,
to breath of your lull listening.

Be as it may thunder crossing kings
lightning roaming the meadowless shallows,
summer kissing spring into lovers,
The consequence and numbers of peace,
Come to glory as sheltered wisdom.