The Unforgiven

Sisyphean Minds

On the edge of their matrimonial bed, the sad man sat confused, out of place, as if waiting for help, except he never brought himself into calling for it. He tried hard to read the note she left behind for him. He was trying to develop the courage to hear her reasons for doing what she did. He stopped looking at the note to wipe the tears in his eyes. It has been close to an hour since he came into the scene of the incident in their bedroom, alone, except for the remains of his wife lying cold on the bed. The neatly dressed bed suggests she went quietly, without much struggle.

“There are different kinds of love they say. Happy love, sad love; family love, friendly love; love love….But what they didn’t say is all love hurts.”

He read the note, drawing deep breaths and had one of…

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She goes nude again, With thoughts that she has it all Thinking she's going to stay that way Or may be she knows it already May be she knows the mortal parts will change soon Though she has nothing new Nothing new another she hasn't.  

Letter to “my girls”


Hello, how you doing?, ok, we need to talk,

I used to wonder why whenever I was walking , people I dint know said hi, it all started in my last year of secondary school, school was over and I was going home and some random guy said hi, to be polite I replied, and he looked at me funny – and gave me that I wasn’t talking to you look.

I was very confused, but this kept on happening.

And that was the thing, they were looking at me and saying hi but usually not talking to me.

It wasn’t until I made a concious effort to listen to that inner voice in me, and there it was, I could hear it, “they” always said hi, in a sweet sexy voice, no one could ignore that voice, and then waving their not very long “hands”, but the skill in…

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Poem: No more


I have had it!!!
No more will I ration my portion of food because he says I’m gaining some weight,
No more will I look at the fat content in any product before buying it, just because he says he wants me to have a flat tummy,
No more will I wake up at 6am everyday to exercise  just because I’m scared he’ll stare at his secretary all day,
No more will I stop my cravings for that pizza from pizza hut, just because I want to keep him,
No more will I keep “googling” for tips on how to get slimmer, just because he says so.

I’ll not make myself suffer because of you anymore, while you never look the content of what you eat and eat as though the world was ending,
You wake up and go about your business with your pot belly,
You have all your cravings…

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Of The Silent Treatment

Becoming The Muse

Love.jpg Love

She was Stubborn,

He was Patient,

Or maybe he was Obstinate,

And she was Persistent;

Yet back to back they sat,

And neither said a word,

Only silence,

An invisible wall

Too flimsy to see

until with time it was an unbreakable barrier,

and the price of silence;



PS inspired by the image**

**The image is of a sculpture titled Love by Alexander Milov from Odessa, Ukraine exhibited at the Burning Man Festival.

“The outer and inner expression of human nature….. Their inner selves are executed in the form of transparent children, who are holding out their hands through the grating. As it’s getting dark (night falls) the children start to shine. This shining is a symbol of purity and sincerity that brings people together and gives a chance of making up when the dark time arrives.”

~Alexander Milov

Photo: credit Dust…

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Poem: I Do Not Want To Be Here

The Wandering Feet

image courtesy

I was a king

I lived a life of gold

I was a servant

Living a life of servitude

An eternal gratitude to men who still saw me as king,

I am a son of the sun

Who the gods saw fit to give skin to drink in and not be sick


Its glory

My life was meaningful


It bettered my people

So I really do not want to be here.

We saw you

At the edge of the world

As pale as beaten tree bark

And hands so soft

We wondered whether you ever worked a day in your life

The mosquito belittled your divine status

Even as you frothed at the lips clasping a thing with leaves

And a god

You said was the only one.

My people rescued you from death

But you take their names from them

And give them yours

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This Is What Writers Do…

They observe even the minutest of things and see a word as a million symbols. Mostly chatterboxes, mostly silent beings- able to twist a single event into a thousand tales. Describing it through a million other parts. Able to bring anyone's attention to something daily observed by them but forgotten within the twinkle of an... Continue Reading →

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