Tell Me No More of Enchanted Days

 A fever comes  To my head Like sleep  To bones.  Warm breath Senses numbed.  My tongue burns Like a flickering flame.  Any time soon,  Mad wind  Will snap hallucinations Into two directions.  The fire will break And my rambunctious Thoughts will flow down,  Cooled so swiftly Into sweet, ashamed sweat. 

Kitchoo called up his wife for the fourth time in the day. He was hoping she wouldn't yell at him.  "Hello." "Tina, it's me. " "Offo. What is it this time? " "Just like that. Did the baby kick? " "You asked me same question half hour back. You think this is a baby or a footballer? " "Don't get angry, sweetheart. " "Sweetheart? Why are you wasting my time? I have to cook lunch then do ironing. " "Tina. Don't do so much work na. " "Okay. You come home and do ironing then. " "But but, I'm busy. I have a call at night. " Tina grumbled angrily and slammed the phone.  Kitchu smiled to himself. It was probably hormones. They say a woman goes mad in pregnancy. Crazy monster. Laughing one minute, crying the next.  Tina would soon complete three months. He went back in time to the night the baby was conceived. Tina sat on his lap when he was watching TV. It was a Sunday and he

  I'm in a funny place in life. It's as if everything that made me me has disappeared. Most days, I can not even relate to myself at all.  I have always been a very intuitive person. I see things that people hide, I understand things that most don't. I have always prided myself on my intuition.  Lately though, it feels as if my fires have died down. I don't dream any more. And even when I do, I struggle to remember my dreams in the morning. Like a wisp of smoke, they escape out of my mind.  I have also detached myself from people. There was a time when I actually had to run away from people because their energies were too overwhelming or because I could read their thoughts and their truths scared me.  None of that is happening. I walk along without being touched by anyone's thoughts. Even my own have eluded me. Sometimes I feel a strange shooting pain in my heart, as a reminder, that I am picking up on something. But I shun it away, because I don't trust anythin

  It isn't easy Finding your way To the exit.  Even water  Has to wait A hundred times To be reborn In another shape And form. 

  I reached the gates of Hell,  And I called out her name.  They told me she wasn't there.  I crossed over to the Heavens, And looked amongst the angels.  Her voice untraceable in their songs.  Under the seas, where I once lay Amongst the seaweed and her hair, I searched over the bridges and currents,  To find her footprints now washed away.  Where did you go my one true love?  How do I reach you to make amends?  I found her dancing barefeet In the Tree of Fire, her eyes ablaze With pain and desire, her arms burnt Fighting the flames, she did not stop Dancing. She was yellow and blue, Orange and red, green and black.  Ash and ember, night and dawn.  I did not think, I did not flinch.  I jumped to meet her, I joined her there.  And in the fire I was finally purged,  And in the brightness, we became one.  My dancing lady and I the dragon.  We showered sparks on the ground.  The Tree roared to Life in the night.  And everyone watched us, spellbound.  (I am fascinated by the elements,

Past it came early,  With the wings of a dove,  Flapped away into the sunset,  Shot away into the dark. Present my quiet friend, Sips brandy in a wheelchair,  Wears mismatched shoelaces,  Shoots dead pigeons for fun. Future is a girl with braids in her hair,  With a basket of stones on a treasure hunt. Picks them up and drops them again. And the clock runs away, he's out of the door. The future is late. It should have been here. Who missed the bus? Was it you my dear? The present is stalled. Like a slimy rubber band. Doesn't stretch, doesn't break. Doesn't tie up the loose ends. The past was a mistake. The present should have been there. It's a traffic jam of events, officer. Get them all moving ahead. Who will give the green light? Not me, I don't have the bloody lamp. Someone get this whole train moving. Someone tell them to tag right along. The future is late. And it's nobody's fault. Set the candles at the table. Turn the cha cha music on. Let's

I. Pull out the thick ropes,  From inside your throat. I wait at the roaring banks, The boat slips and swirls away,  Complaining about earlier demands, Missing anchors I could not afford. II. Fingers push strands away From my sweaty forehead,  And our curtains fall down. I bow at you, I call you Sire. You say, melady, call me  That every day, I am yours. You draw the curtains back on my face. We drown in dark roomed kisses,  Fooling the audience yet again. III. Your lips are like sore litchis,  Your tongue the moist juices,  Dribbling down my smooth arm. Finding refuge inside my calloused elbows. Foamy, warm waves on a summer day,  Stopping to rest at the grainy shores. IV. The first time our eyes met,  Skies darkened and black crows  Flew down in swarms pecking at ears. We turned into stone, the crowd disappeared. When we whispered our first hellos,  The sun reappeared, butterflies swam  Over our heads, picking up pieces  Of skin and bone, putting them in place, While our eyes glued t