Am I allowed to think
That I could be
More than what I am.


I Can be Blameless

A question is asked
With answers sown in.
Confirmation is given
Or lies are tried.

For what’s the use
In inflicting pain
On the diffuse.

Who is to blame
For creation.

The heavens
Have my gratitude;
I can be abominably blameless too.


Moments When

There are moments
When poetry seems dishonest

Sometimes the mind doesn’t want it
Sometimes it rejects it.

When there is too much focus
On the structure
On the rhyme scheme
Than the meaning
Gets lost
As if it never existed.

Then I remember
Where it comes from
And think,
Makes sense.


Just Information

Star splattered speckles
Expansive matter twinkling
In hues of colours
You can’t compress.
Sparkling, radiating cosmic glory,
Her universe,
Collided into mine;
Tiny in world of no intrusion.

In every piece there was substance
Swirling, extending, finally
Interweaving, tendril vines,
Found their way
Into my own.

Inspired by her presence
Admiration extruded my core
Information is readily available to those who seek it,
She countered,
As if I was unaware of it.

But she wasn’t
Just information.
She had a body, a soul.
She was someone
I wanted to know and abhor.

Even if
It was all conjecture
Or the intangibles
Of improbability