Tuesday, 23 October 2012

we used to write to each other
with paper and ink (though it took days
and days, until they turned into months,
transformed into years, we could pretend
that it was because the mail was still on its way
lost in the post, and of course it would reach eventually
the postal service was terrible, but not
evil, exactly, merely incompetent, after
all, so we’d wait and wait and wait and invariably
there would be a card, with greetings and
half-baked comments about the weather
why, even weathermen
do not argue about clouds like we didn’t
leaving all the other words unsaid)

and now, we fail to write to each other with email.

Friday, 12 October 2012

him

there is melancholy in the wind
and sorrow in the grass
and ne'er before have i doubted it more
that even this shall pass

her

when the rain of sadness falls
its tears upon your brow
the earth it feeds bears the seeds
that into trees of happiness shall grow




*

it has been two years since i wrote the first stanza, of which the first couplet belongs to someone else. but it is good.

Thursday, 4 October 2012


Her eyes, seem to have
arms that are
impossible to see but they
seize me, hold me in place
as if I
were nothing but a
fly caught in their
dangerous, destined grasp.

And my eyes, they
somehow hear the invisible
(they cannot turn away) imagine
their delight and joy at
finding a special ode
to them
in her eyes,
their arms.

*

tell me, how can one hate love?

Monday, 1 October 2012


Arre listen
I’m telling you,
That despite all its hype and hopes
This being in love thing is severely overrated.
And (as someone who thankfully has never engaged
In this rather asinine and quite frankly adolescent activity)
We should put a stop to it.

We should start a movement,
On Twitter and Facebook 
And whatever else they’re calling ‘social media’ these days,
Informing people, ‘No, don’t fall
Into love, or anything else, but Love especially.
If you should fall, fall asleep,
So that when you wake up it all seems like a dream.’

We should organise riots,
Form us a political party
‘The Anti-Love Movement’, we could call ourselves
We’d certainly get seats in Parliament
Even though our main votebank is
Under the legal voting age.

And then, we could let our institutions
Be taken over by vested interest groups
Corporations peddling anti-love perfume
And anti-love anti-greeting cards
Who would lobby on their behalf
(So anti-love would become love)
But at least everyone would agree
Love is pretty damn irritating,
And thank God we got rid of it.