Thursday, 20 February 2014


i lurk these cyber spaces
there are so many worlds to go
but everywhere i reach to
nothing feels like home.
how sad that though you're
right by my side
search for you this way
but even for
me, dogged pursuer
this journey has been
in vain.
so i move on
as i am wont to do
finding someone better to replace you
and you can go back to your indentured life
but pretend you're your own man
struggling against lies and strife.


If i could i would
steal all the  things
the world doesn't need
and write them into poetry.
an unwanted child
an orphan annie
will feel right at home
with a lost soul like me
and victims of disdain
the unlike other kind
will realise i am good
once i make up my mind
the bird with a broken beak
the woman from a broken home
will find i am broken too
and shelter in my poem
and shall we talk
of books well written
that no one seems to want
i take them in and enjoy
their beauty and their old fashioned font
the desolate man
on a snow-filled peak
finds pleasure in my words’ embrace
he thinks i am his as he reads
there’s no hurry no race
the world keeps looking for ways to discard
the things it thinks it doesn’t need
but for them i ache
and they don't disappoint
despite my indecent greed.