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.

Pumpkin

Pumpkin

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

ampersand

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-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.

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.