Oceans of Sorrow

Dead people are calm
creatures. Free from the
hurricanes of emotion and the crawl of time. Life is a fruit
sweet on the inside but
it has the skin of acid. Man
has been broken into
hopelessness, and it has run the race for thousands
of years. But we are alone in is small pebble of life,
we are not even the
dandruff in the universe’s
scalp; we are just
another pinprick in
this vacuum. And perhaps that is the reason why man looks to the
skies and hopes
to see bigger miracles than the sun. Maybe one day, we shall
find that every
moment of sorrow
we humans endured was spent for something greater.
And beyond the
curtain of death we shall see, the shining vision of perfection
only witnessed in the
most memorable of dreams.


White Sea, Dark Sky

Sparrows have encroached my hollows.
Lions feast on my cells,
Vultures thrash around in my belly.
Snakes swallow my emotions.
Wars are being waged in my skull.
Constellations reveal themselves,
famines lay pale and sunken eyed.
Rainforests are blooming green.
Allah is a grain of sand. Jesus
is a raindrop. Buddhas are
shimmering waves.
Million limbed trees nestle my brain,
their roots slither through my veins.
My fingers crush the sun, and atoms of
gold burst forth, dripping and screaming.
Darkness engulfed me in a previous age. The sparrows now scatter
away into the sky, the horizon
is bright and blinding.
I am an ocean of light.


A soul flew out from within the white seas,
wingless and alone.
Was it the arrow of
god, aiming for the heart of man?
Animals howl in misery for
they know not this warm
essence, this strange sweet fruit
of sorrow. As the father of fathers
snapped his spine straight and
began moulding
the earth around him, he
became united with a new
sunrise exploding in his brain.
The arrow had struck. Millions
of years onwards, the sun
inside flickers against the
thick illusions of darkness and is
dying in a universe
of magnified microscopic make believe.