Short Questions and Neruda’s Tongue

Lady in Red

Do you know that instant noodles only
Takes 3 minutes to cook inside the microwave oven?
And a quickie 5 minutes inside
A mucosal pocket?
And do you know it takes
One second for love to bloom at first sight?
Do you know a match stick
Can only last 10 seconds the most?
Do you know the wrong word
In a moment can destroy a lifetime of right words?
Do you know childbirth
Can take only a few hours of labor pains?
Do you know that pop corn
Takes 5 minutes to fizz?
Do you know that it took god 7 days
To make this universe?
Do you know there are so many rapid moments
We cannot control – like panic, anxiety and fear?
Do you know that there a blue pill
For the rapid man and a Prozac for the blue man?
And do you know it takes
One moment to make the blue lad bluer?
To wash away his sandcastles.
Do you know that everything is short,
Except when a man’s tongue becomes swollen and blue
Tasting a beautiful clitoria flower
When he sees the ocean come tumbling towards
Him, in slow rhythmic waves,
And all he can do is to throw
His tongue out, like a blown-up lifejacket.

Coriolis Effect

whirlpool 2

They say that the rotation of a turquoise planet
Makes wispy movements on ponds
On bathroom bowls, forces tornados
And relays cyclones and other ballets of nature

And we too know, how we make
Rotation part of our daily anatomies.
How we rotate the stem of a ripe mango
To pluck it, how we plunge a corkscrew
To open a vintage wine, or how Shane Warne
Spins the leg break to bamboozle batsmen.

And still we are slaves of spins
Of how a little magnetism around a radius
Makes us fall in love. And yet we are consumed
By another’s orbitals – where are we now?,
Where to next?, is she procrastinating?, will we work
In the long run?, is she a hurricane and a banshee in bed?
Oh God, is she wife-material?.

We pirouette to another’s orbitals.
What keeps us hostage, the gyres that stream us
The vortices that baffle us, the vertigos that giddy us
The whirlpools that sink us. All stemming from one creature’s
Orbitals of the heart and mind.

Yet we have our own helices that define us.
The DNA of a man that can see past the doubt
To make it work. How we can resonate
Are spins, like figure skaters do, or how your hands
Master the pottery wheel, knowing deep
Down that what matters is not the orbitals
But the ground states.

And we are grounded to those baffling genes.
What makes me a romantic and her a realist.
And when we meet in the middle
We know that there’s another planet
That we need to inhabit. Like Mars and Venus
Need earth for a rendez-vous.

We are imperfect humans. Perfect freaks
Who overthink everything we do. When love is
Just about finding a common torque, to spin.
And making love is absenting your spins; becoming nonsensical,
Folly dancing all over, while trade winds blow.

As you become one singularity, one flesh,
At the equator.

Creatures of the Dark

Sea Breaching Ocean Humpback Whale Mammal Animal

There is beauty in light, like in the luciferin
Hidden on the ventral side
Of winged beetles; creatures we call fireflies,
And they turn luminous green
Underneath their abdomen
Emanating chemi-luminescence.
And these flying lanterns,
– Soft-bodied creatures flying with their elytra -,
Make children run on the trimmed lawn
And the inner child climb out
Of able-bodied cocoons.

There is still beauty
In darkness, when two people sleep
To each other’s lullaby, nocturnal creatures
That smolder like twigs in winter.
Pitch black is when you become only as lucid
As the clarity of her body on yours,
Drowning you in a landslide.
When you let the invisible hand
Guide you to the heart of the tempest;
Huracan raging in wind, fire and storm
Ravaging the ravenous.

And you feel all sorts of creatures in the dark
Sharks inside your lips pillaging hers
Little dinoflagellates inside margins of your irises
Whales waiting to burst out through a sweet spot
And the ocean flowing from inside to out
Through every pore in your skin.

You and I

To Jewel Kilcher.


The misguided forces
Of our own obsessiveness,
Lust that overpowers like a pillow
At the hand of a lover,
And love, that strangely lets
Her get the better of you,
Knowing the heart is a playmaker,
And you have all the tricks in the book
To make her crave you
Like a hot coffee by bedside
That never gets cold
To every sip of hers.

Sugar Daddy

Holding Hands Sea Relationship People Happiness

He knows you better
Than yourself, but plays along
For the all the favors he gets
To quell the disparity in gravity
Between your body and his. Or at least feel
Like it. He sees the perkiness of little orbs
On which dappled in the middle
Is a little dark raisin and an aureole around.

He makes incursions every time
He throws the muscle of paper
Or plastic, and all he expects from you
Is a little exceptionalism
To stroke all the keyed buttons
In all the wrong ways, at all the right times.

And still he will always be
The wisdom reflected on your eyes
The creases to your wind-ravaged body
The security to the till you call a heart
And he will sugar your ears with rings
And your fingers, with shiny facets.

And you know deep down
You’re a glorified whore
Who gets fucked in so many different ways
And yet, is tucked in for the night
By a dirty old man, who’s old enough
To be your daddy.

And still there’s something about
Deciduous autumn and flowering spring
Drifting towards the middle

Making one summer, as special as it can be

The Tomato


I’m my own worst enemy.
Time and again, I’ve played in my head
How it would all unentangle as we knotted,
In tentacle clasp and covalent chemistries.
Hunters call this the taut line hitch
The type that pulls it all tight.
The common man romances it to making love.

I was a nervous wreck, the actin and myosin filaments
Turning to a ghostly white as all my blood
Was flowing elsewhere, to a little brain,
That in spite of all the nervous energy,
Was starting to stiffen, even shiver like a guitar string
Snout like a pointing dog, showing the direction of the hunt

And I pulled her towards me
Unwrapped the floral printed cotton dress and
Sliced open her body like a fresh tomato
That was perfectly ripened for a little taste.

And we made something that night.
It’s just a blur now. The torn sail made it easier
To bounce through the skyward waves. I was Poseidon
Who gazed at his trident lifting a salt fortress
Crashing against her hull,
The creaking timbers moaning
Like they were about to separate out
And become driftwood

And after a while, we were just
Like the beach and the tide, juxtaposed and yet entwined
Together on the wading zone.
She was in shades of red, like a bloated plum
Blushing in autumn colors.
And I was the slashed bough of a baobab.
I had opened like a showerhead
And sprinkled the sap of my xylem
Through a crack on her surface.

I was no longer the untouched one.
I was now a constellation from head to foot
And the moon shimmered between my dimples.
It was beautiful to discover, even this late,
What everybody knew for so long.

I was now primed like an oiled engine
Pining to get back on the road again. The man who waited
38 long years to see the inner workings of a sliced tomato
And to feel the beauty of cucumber mixing
With the cut slices of a red fruit. .
How beautifully simple a salad was,
Yin and yang mixing in endless geometries,
Surrendering in so many twists and turns.

And, I look at her – stretched like a rubber band
From fingers to toes – sore in places, sweet in others
As I tell myself, why did I wait this long to feel the beauty
Of a ripened tomato; a little succulent fruit,
Cut into half, moist as the tongue.

And all I did was use some brain power
And it was no Einsteinian theory only Newtonian physics.
Of how much gravity a little crack could hide.

I discovered a few things that day;
– G-force and G-spot; and how they collide
To bring out a little French on two blushing visages.
Ooh La la, Le petite mort…

O is for Oleander


I stroked her body, with satin finesse
Climbed in and out, with a resolute strain by me.
The rush of blood was purifying, the roar of the lungs
Was louder than a palpitating chamber,
The candle wax burnt through an hourglass,
Until there was no flame to extinguish.

And her body was like a yellow oleander plant
She bloomed on top of me, every root of her finding passages
Inside of me, suckling my brittle vitality,
Poisoning my flesh to an agonizing death
That defied everything I knew before.

It was so swift, I could feel an epiphany
Drifting out, like tentacles from my body.
The bones were so brittle that I felt
As light as a patch of slender Tundra mosses.
I had seen the sun climb out of her body
Blinding all my perceptiveness.

It was almost like a massive black hole
Had swallowed me, lock, stock and barrel

I had time traveled through an orgasm.