[x]

GodThere is a God. I have seen him snap the necks
Of children and inspect their hollow remains.
Pushing past the sinews, there is nothing there.
No prayers clogging the arteries, stopping the rush
Of blood, a blackened jet.
Their mouths had not yet learnt how to
Form 'hail mary's'. Tongues twisted at the sound.
The syllables choke.

There is no use lying to a child who when asking
For God, finds only silence.

He is not interested in them. The purity sickens.
There's a boredom in innocence that causes him
To turn away. His eyes are better fixed on those
Who can praise him. The shallow whore who never
Thought her life would take thi

A Legacy of WisdomYou have scribed your words,
wealthy wreaths of wisdom,
on paper never torn or worn.
You have etched your passions
on my brow.

You have left this wallowed world
victorious; eyes resplendent
with the wisdom you wrote and wrought.
Your passions shall echo in my ears
unto eternity.

And should I stray into some
sullen storm, or get caught in
the torrents of the monsoon, I’ll know
that Lear’s been there before, and
I’ll not swoon.

And if Hades’ doors open up
before my stranded soul, and scorch
it with the heat of hell, I’ll recall that
I am not the first – Dante’s been down
there as well.

A

NonexistenceI pray to a God I have never seen,
who lives in a world that has never been,
to save my heart that has never felt,
from eternity's failures, eternity's guilt.

My feet step on grounds no men stepped before,
my lips taste the poison, bitter and sore,
yet it does not kill me,
does that mean,
that I am immortal,
or that I've never been?

I pray to a God that may not exist,
while the iron shackle tears up my wrist,
to tell me the difference of being and not,
to show me the memories that I forgot.

My mind flies to places nobody has reached,
to learn that the stars are nothing but bleached,
spots on the dark, they're not even light,

AnarchyScream the anthem of the anarchist!
What is it? Exactly.
I won't tell you; make it up.
Go away. Blow it up.
Burn it down. Deface the town.
But don't give in,
Never -- no.
That's the song we all love so.
Freedom past extremity.
Far away, in my backyard
I own the world; I am a bard.
I wear a beard and shave my head;
All the normals want me dead.
I won't give up; I ramble rave.
You'll never make me behave.
My brother, loser, freak, meek geek
You know-- the beatnick, hippy, punk--
The rock bands my parents debunk--
We treasure what we cannot have:
No allegiance to any flag.

out of Gardenwhat sea
how it is welling your eyes a wet mess

what tide
where urchins of the ocean will spill to howl their elegy
where mermaids will turn widows
once brine has swallowed whole their sailor babes

stewarding the land instead
is why i never set sail with you

but to lay in gardens, oh…

a bed sheet rotten by the ultraviolet
and our laps full of stars

what black soil will pervert your knees there
where moonlight will mirror out from your teeth
to run fanatic toward cosmic space
after bathing in the space among us

where walking air pushes every dust

one of sun-dried butterflies
one of beaten rug with broom
one of hone

Perspectives of a Hallucino...Comfort. The softness of the basement couch. Misery loves company.
Trickling through my fingers. Whispering across my face, her disappearing
lips trace across my cheeks. The smell is sweet, but she is rough against
my throat. Her smell isn't so much intoxicating as it is suffocating, yet
the smoke paralyses my senses and touches my soul. Her street name is
undeserving of her effect on me. Forever, she shall be known to me as
Mary-Jane. I will never know her beauty.

r

the plasticized quantum theory

alabaster immortality
une voleur honteux
slip of the tongue
in each saturated pore
spectrum rehearses its symphony

crooked whispers of a flute
a glimpse of blue infinitude
quiets the confines of los alamos
¿quién es él? eso piensa
en kaleidoscopes

paralysis in the peristalsis
jewel in the vitreous humor
phosphorescent anti-matter
until it watercolors
the poison of psyche

papillae the plagues
oxidizing ash and ember
a quivering effigy
splinters the moon
instinctually

the mirrored hand exhales
swept the epileptic ceiling
dissolving tendrils of mahogany
detached from the retina
unblemished

tranquil, t

existentialist pick ups...where have I been all my life?

ScrutinyAnd when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin…
~ T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

I am going through the keyless gate
to watch and wait,
to wander here and there among the proud,
among the white and old whose wisdom rots, repressed, untold:
the soporific royals wreathed in leaves of gold.
And to them I shall read aloud from the Book,
read of the sins their lips have took
and upon me they shall look and patiently reflect…

“I am lost in my own depth,” I will say
in a slight, impartial way
(for I lack violets and an antic prin

Vampires heartacheI awake in the night;
I can no longer sleep.
I don't see myself in mirrors;
I see somebody else.
I am alone.
I am dead.
The red stripes on white flesh
Keep me somewhat Sane.
I stare at the ceiling;
It is as cold and dead as I am.
The pain burns within;
as my life slowly fades away.

Wolf's Rain

Snowflakes fall, blood is in the air,
Covering white figure of pride,
Lying forceless on the ground,
Having no strength to fight with the snow,
Nor even with reality,
Which drifts down from the empty sky,
Where the moon cannot be seen,
Where birds cannot be heard,
At which wolves can only howl.

Suicide

I'm so sick of suicide
It's everywhere I look
Pictures, and in movies
In poetry and books

I'm so sick of suicide
It's pathetic and it's weak
Blah blah blah so awful
Outlook always bleak

This life's just not worth living
Could they be any more cliché'?
I know that I just can't go on
Isn't that what they say?

Do you live in China
Without freedom's basic choice?
Are you a woman in Afghanistan?
Forbidden to have a voice.

Are you starving now in Africa?
Surrounded by disease
Or under corrupt dictatorship
Forced upon your knees

These people rise to challenges
We cannot comprehend
They live their lives from day to day
And triu

Procremationso he said let's make a baby
she said let's just make
love
and he said
What's the difference?
She said
A snakeskin
or a little pink pill
And he said
Isn't it about time... she said
You're never old enough
to die
She said Make life-- make
death
and he said
What's the difference?

I like my life she said
he said that won't last
she said I feel
no need...
he said
Well, maybe I do

She said Sow your seeds somewhere else then

the god memorandum

To: You
From: God

Take counsel.
I hear your cry.
It passes through the darkness, filters through the clouds, mingles with starlight, and finds its way to my heart on the path of a sunbeam.
I have anguished over the cry of a hare choked in the noose of a snare, a sparrow tumbled from the nest of its mother, a child thrashing helplessly in a pond, and a son shredding his blood on a cross.
Know that I hear you, also. Be at peace. Be calm.
I bring thee relief for your sorrow for I know its cause ... and its cure.
You weep for all your childhood dreams that have vanished with the years.
You weep for all your self-esteem that has been corr

Emo

Emo is black.
Emo is red.
Emo is a love of darkness,
But always needing some light.
Emo is the way you look,
But more the way you are.
Emo is resisting the world
Because you can't stand routine.
Emo is loving everyone you know,
Even if sometimes you wish they didn't exist.
Emo is hurting yourself or your body
When deep down you really love them both.
Emo is making your own choices,
While relying on your friends to make it through.
But really, emo is not caring how fucked up you are,
Cause there are so many friends just as fucked up as you.
Emo isn't hate.
Emo is love.

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fabrication

Fabrication

She bends low over the language cookbook
Intent on having a more than good look
She turns the pages with wide eyes
Puzzles over idioms with small sighs
Her finger runs slowly along line after line
Words curl around her tongue like fine wine
She picks up some phrases along the way
Prepares diligently what when and how to say
Not a single letter escapes her gaze
But victory's not easy in this maze
She still has to learn just where to crop
Like a delicate vegetable she wants to chop
Never to miss out on a hidden punch line
No mere language salad will make lunch fine
Like a recipe, proven good and ages old
There's a ri

dreaming

Dreaming

The pillow soaked with salty tears
The sheets crinkled in silent frenzy
The blanket tossed into a corner
And a curled-up silhouette in the middle
She's lying there night after night
In a silent battle with sleep

Rapid eye movements between fluttering lids
Ragged breath and scarcely breath at all
A tangled mess of hair as a nightly veil
And a woman in foetus position in the middle
She's lying there night after night
In a silent battle with life

Whispered words and clawing hands
Strangled screams and kicking feet
A whole new life between these sheets

His mouth and tongue against her lips
His teasing hands against her h

butterfly

Butterfly

A hand-full of ecstatic movements
Precariously perched on your finger tip
Trembling silky satin wings of powder
Uncovering and covering explosions of colours
Leaving a dusty rainbow on your skin
As a colourful reminder of fragile beauty
When with a silent folding of its wings
The light on earth is extinguished
And after spreading them widely
It's disappearing swiftly.

An abandoned heavenly creature
With the dawn in a dew drop on the wings
With the night reflecting the fantastic colours
And the queen of flowers offering shelter
Bravely resisting so many unforeseen dangers
Risking being crushed beneath destiny's hand

language problem

Language problem

Wordless.

Speechless.

Senseless?

Languageless!

My poetry has lost rhyme and reason
My muteness seems like crime and treason
Letters dance before my inner eyes
Enticingly, I'm spell-bound by them
But I can't even spell a single word
My every song is lyricless
My whole life story punch-line less

Open your mouth!

Spit it out!

But how can I shout

When there's so much doubt?!

My prose has lost all its glamour
Has become mere stutter and stammer
My chain of fluency, my umbilical cord cut off
Disconnected from the womb of language
No more syntax to my sentences
No more context in the story of my life

Language p

too good

Too good

Like stainless steel, bulletproof glass
Like newly polished copper and brass
Like an elegantly shaped flower vase
Like a neatly trimmed lawn of grass
You're too good
This decisive bit too good to be true

Like the ebony and ivory of piano keys
Like the endless blue of the seven seas
Like the sweetest honey made by bees
Like a climate with only pleasant degrees
You're too good
This derisive bit too good to be true

Like pearlwhite teeth, sparkling eyes
Like a newborn baby who never cries
Like a stream of water that never dries
Like a futuristic new all-round device
You're too good
This decisive bit too good to be true

animalism

Animalism

A dozen kinds of ants
Crawl into your pants
One kind of roaches
Causes you reproaches
A myriad of mosquitoes
Leave you in itchy throes
Spiders that jump and bite
Fear them with all your might
More than enough creepy crawlies
Good fodder for horror stories

In a temple you find elephants
And worship them with folded hands
Elephants in their own orphanages
Even the wild ones not in cages
Tree trunks carried in elephant trunks
Majestic beasts swaying like drunks
Tusker decorated in green, red and gold
The mystery of elephants is centuries old
Elephants labouring, does it look wrong?
Grand animals, intelligent and str

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war

by ~devikafernando, Feb 1, 2008, 9:50:36 PM
Literature / Poetry / Philosophical / Open

War

When limbs are torn from bodies like papers from a pad
And the smell of rotten corpses makes everyone go mad
Revenge is taken with an eye for an eye, a mum for a dad

When bodies are torn apart and as easily lives are torn asunder
Atrocities of the most horrible kind kill any sense of wonder
Ravens feed on the diceased, instead of sunshine there's thunder

When a whole island shakes under the force of explosions
A nation's heart is smashed into tiny bullet-sized portions
Roaring military planes mess with people's mind and emotions

When howling sirens and thundering gunfire always resound
Any kind of solace not even in music will now be found
Rhapsodies are now bloody, no longer just a bohemian sound

When school buildings are in ruins and future's are at stake
And sleepless people at daytime into a new nightmare awake
Raising a child without protection makes a mother's heart quake

When the war of child soldiers and suicide bombers consists
And little to no hope for a peaceful solution in the future exists
Reaping mass karma of the unwholesome kind is what persists

When foreigners leave the country and even the UN seeks flight
A lost nation has to stand up, face truth and fight a lonely fight
Ravaged by war, the country is a terrible yet sadly familiar sight

warby ~devikafernando

Literature / Poetry / Philosophical / Open

Content speaks for itself...

The latest poem composed for my Sri Lanka anthology.

~Whazel Feb 3, 2008 Hobbyist Photographer

Truly touching, profoundly sad and can be related to much too many parts of this world.

~devikafernando Feb 3, 2008 Writer

exactly my thinking...

thanks for the fave, darling!

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war

warby ~devikafernando

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