Let’s meet at the Blue Jay
Down the memory lane
Of high school days
Treat me a sorbet trio
Magenta, lime and lemon
Cool the after taste of
Of our bubble gum kiss
In those days
Evenings always came too early
There was no contact after six
Only your smile filled my journal pages
Do you remember
I bet you don’t
On a bed all tubed up
Obliviate to my existence
One of the scrubs
Attending to jumpstart
Your failing heartbeat
Category: Poetry and Prose
🌒 Blood Moon
The ocean is super horny
Let’s ride each other crazy
In the heat of lunar eclipse
Victim
She told him lies about consequences.
His lips were sewn up by shame.
The world became more suffocating
than her body odour.
He was convinced that he needed to be a rat to survive the filth.
Soul Food
Comedians
This poem is inspired by Little Charmer and RoBIN
We look understated
in life’s comedy show
out flow the liquid words
in dry style
If it’s dark
we make it funny
outlive death
for another day
Gobble down
the dark and dry
Moisten our lips
and give a few more screwballs
to win no one’s approval
Good New Days
Nights not wasted
Transmitting heartbeats
Between lovers
Separated by the need
To make a living
In different cities
Unable to share
A cosy bed
Expressing passion
Skin to skin
Thankfully
The old days
Of snail mail
Have long sunsided
The new days technology
Keeping them bound
Portrait
A chaotic mind
resides in an eccentric shell
Intellect redefined
as an anxious gazelle
Push all judgement aside
she wins you over with her quirky smile
Earth and Tsunami
She is plain
She is unnoticeable
She is nothing to look at
Whatever she tends
They grow
She is passion
She is overwhelming
She is a beautiful disaster
Whatever she touches
They break
The Three Sisters
The Living Poetry prompt – air, certain, raise
I love watching sunrise over the Blue Mountains.
When the sun bathes the Three Sisters, it raises the thick moist air with full force of seduction.
There is a certain irresistible temptation I correlate with King David.
Bathsheba was alone, but I am faced with three folds.
The Death of A Poet
you were
the assassin of my poetic being
you attacked by slicing a sharp tongue
down the core of my creativity
whatever I inked
post mortem
dripped wasteful words
irretrievable
Flicker of Thoughts 