Kandy Town

Climbing the hills
Is never easy for the 1000 cc
Engine of a Suzuki Swift.
And in that cold night
I climbed the ascent that is my wife,
Slowly like the Hanthana hill,
The pines caressed by the northward wind
Whispering forget-me-nots,
While I hung onto her like a gluttonous leech
Sucking every drop of passion out of her,
Until we came down like a lightning flash.
We looked out of the window of a room
In the Queens hotel, to see jaywalkers
Scampering about hustling precious time,
Like the venomous brown ants do
All around Sri Lanka.
While we let the surrounding lull
Of a thick-bricked hotel room
Blanket us, like the pine-hills
Enwrap a dainty town inside of her
Almost like an expectant mother
Wraps her unborn fetus.

First Kiss

Man Romantic Couple Love Kiss Grooms Romance
A Kiss

You, the focal point of my desire
The lone color in a black and white room

I lurk like a shadow searching for light, to shape
My contours. A raft afloat in tides of whitewater

Pummeling against the elastic endothelium,
Not knowing how long this will last – or not,

Desire breaking the knots that hold the splinters together.
I fear the unknown, like a space man, climbing out

Of a space ship. I’m in alien territory, on the ledge of a kiss
That would baptize me and push my sail sin-ward.

The folklore of a shrine that your lips are.
And I, the pilgrim, drenched in unholy sweat.

Juxtaposed to your tender visage, my knees tremble
In anticipation, a train engine about to derail.

And I finally start feeding like two goldfish lips,
Pushing outwards, lunging towards first feel.

Coal burns like an inferno, as I tumble to your touch.
As everything becomes blind for a perpetual eternity.

Sensation melts like butter on my tongue
And moistens a muscle groping for the pinnacle of honesty.

I finally open my stitched eye lids
And all of you is still here,

And so is your divine aftertaste.

Mary Magdalene

Mary Magdalene

The look in your face, worthy of me
And the others, scorn
Keeping vigil like a lioness.
You who took the stone out of their palms
And reminded each one, of the splinters
In their eyes.

And I searched for you
Around the skull mountain
And found an empty abandoned tomb
They said you had risen
And gone away.

And my lips still know no departure
My feet dance on yours in my dreams
My lips transgress like my night kissing your dawn
And my breasts are no longer
Like Sodom and Gomorra
Weighing of sin.

My heart will stand like Jericho
With the impenetrable walls around me
Guarding the memory of you
As I draw water from the Dead Sea, the banks
We knew so well, baffled at how a dead mass
Can be so life giving.
How the waves come back to wash my feet
Like you did that Passover day.

And I will wait, paying the penance of virtue
To be that woman who mourns louder and longer,
Than she has ever moaned.
Like a lighthouse that needs not
Summon any more ships to her feet.

And love, how can you forget love?
As red as the sea by its name
As dense as a bloom of Trichodesmium
And as carnal as the sharks that swim
Inside that narrow sea
And the boat that used to be here

Cutting through water
Spraying sea foam
Salting time.



You get a faint aroma
Of nutmeg, as you open the fridge.
You take out a brown pudding
And take 3 scoops out. It is simply
Heaven on earth, as you let the tongue
Squeeze out every bit of taste
Out of a spoon serving. It is sheer mouthwatering.
Your sprinkler system inside the mouth
Is dripping now and you finish the first serving
And the conundrum begins – temptation
Calling for another scoop or two
And somehow you cannot seem to
Resist the fusion of juggery and nutmeg.
Your mind goes to and fro, in a little pickle.
Should I say a Malay pickle?



I’ve had a love hate relationship
With pumpkin. I love pumpkin curry
But detest pumpkin soup.
My mom, of late, fries pumpkin seeds
With a pinch of salt,
And the first taste of fan-fried pumpkin seeds
On your tongue is truly divine,
A mouthwatering heaven.

As you ask yourself, how could
I have been oblivious of this for so long.

That is when I realized that every epiphany
I’ve had in my life is like a Cinderella story
It’s that moment when the glass slipper
Starts to fit perfectly, Cinderella’s foot.

Like pumpkin seeds on my tongue

Or the first taste of love.

Sexual Orientation


The first time you imagine a woman naked
On mental screens, is when
You realize that, a mental picture wets your
Whole body except that little place
Where the donkey is.

And that’s how you pass the test.
That you were meant to walk the straight line
And that one small room in your household
Will never welcome a ding-dong.

A room that will only know your finger and an endoscope
And when you finally have prostate cancer
Two fingers of the urologist.

And still the gay youth becomes king
A little after his 18th birthday
He coronates himself Richard the Lion Heart

And rides the hairy donkey.

Brown Girl


Brown paper packages come to mind here.
Like a Sri Lankan, 35 years,
Sold on a paper advertisement,
Traded by her parents.
Should I say brown paper packages
Tied up with string here?
Nah it rarely rains virgins here.

And it seems we are jinxed, our women
Are never love machines, SHHHH, that’s done
In secret in a bedroom in the dark
Just baby machines who when you stuff
Her with a heating rod, makes sugar babies
With caramel skin.

And still a brown woman
Is no brown paper package in string,
Nor is she the keeper of her ovaries,
Throwing curves balls every month.
Only a preservative of what is precious ,
The heart works that no paper can sell,
Only time can stamp.

And brown are the cinnamon quills
That you sprinkle on a cake
Or the brown sugar that always
Leaves an extra oomph factor on your tongue
And brown is the curry woman
Who will be traded by her parents

To flow like gravy on
A man’s coconut shell spoon.