A poem on what happens during daily blackouts in Sri Lanka……..

Full Moon

Black out or brown out
There is no democratic vote
To punching a keyboard with a lamp beside
Or looking at your wife with the lust compass
Only to realize that
You’re already a sweat freak
And in this fiasco of broken
Power plants and trickling streams
There is unspoken beauty
That in the absence of technology
– No light box or superhighway –
To bolster one’s solitude
Two soul mates who cannot make love
Become disciples in the gentle art of war
Catapulting and cannoning
Small packets of words from lips
To deconvolute knotty heart-matter
And rekindle the spark
Of lost or forgotten moments
Of unplugged electricity.