‘Little Pet’ to Ol’ Nan (Part 1 of 2)

Streaks of tears flow from ol’ nan’s rheumy eyes;

Is it her tear ducts or is she terribly sad? I don’t know which!

Her face is an age-old mask of wrinkles and parchment;

Turned into paper mache-

Changing from haunted, stern, angry and sincere, each time I visit;

I can no longer read which is which,

She can’t seem to recognise me, I don’t know why!

It fills my soul with helplessness enough to suffocate,

Love isn’t enough to cure you Nan, and the realisation is tearing me apart!

A hard-working woman all your life filled with duty and warmth left virtually an empty shell, where is the justice in that?

Remember, you called me ‘Little Pet’, no one else does now or ever will again;

I fear one day I will visit you and you’ll be gone, and I’m not ready for that!

Please, Nan, show me that you can hear me and come back:

To see my growing family, to give you all the comforts you deserve, and a chance to say ‘I love you’ one last time!

I need that!

The Many Lives of An Ant

I am but an ant, looking up at the night sky trying to make sense of the stars;

A simple admirer of the written word, marvelling at the trials and tribulations masterfully depicted in the works of Shakespeare;

An honest family man, watching on at the antics of Machiavelli’s brood, nursing a slow-burning flame of anger threatening to turn into wildfire;

A hypochondriac marvelling at a physician delivering exactly what the doctor had described, only to long for an ‘undo’ when there is just no-can-do;

A starved, malnourished man, struggling to keep eyes open, within an alarmingly-thin skeletal frame, being forced to look on as you and I engorge ourselves on food in front of the TV;

A highly-educated professional working 14 to 16 hours a day to meet commitments, watching on as a life-long layabout wins £150 million on the Lottery and turns a new leaf of acceptability, receiving universal popularity and praise;

A War Leader amidst the utter devastation of battle marshalling the troops to move in for the kill, suddenly coming to an epipheny of peace;

You and I have lived many lives unto this moment, if the laws of rebirth and karma are to be believed;

Who ever you are or whatever you’ve done, individuality (rather than the pack mentality) appears to be the key to progress and longevity-

However far we have come, is still not as far as we must go,

We must therefore strive to be true at every juncture:

To others, and to you.

Dinoris Bandara: The Snake Charmer of Hallawatha

               

I charm my snake, like I charm my women;

Wine and dine them on kottu and honeyed tea,

Take them home and mesmerise them with my bata-nalawa;

Follow the vibrations, in a rhythmic union;

Find her body taut and supple, smoother than snake skin,

With a pierced belly button and a stylised ‘payana’ tattoo on the back of her neck,

Subtle graces- a deliciously inviting smile- with a set of eyes that can make a Snake Charmer wanna die!

‘Who is the charmer and, who is the charmed?’, you might ask;

For, without even noticing, I have closed the distance between us to within striking distance,

The risk of death but an after-thought;

The realisation (albeit fleeting) came just in time to move away from a vicious fatal strike!

Lesson be, as lesson learnt, all snakes are dangerous (particularly the female variety),

But, i’ll be sure to forget it tomorrow, after another round of kottu and honey tea, with another girl!

Room in Your Heart!

I swear, I hear the shimmer of a most captivating melody

From the direction of the sound, I think the music is being created within you & delivered ethereally ,

I place my ear against your skin and – I tell you! – the music gets a little clearer;

I move around you, meeting skin with skin, showering you with kisses, until the orchestral music surrounds me,

Like a man & a woman, surrounded by a wall of mesmerising sound & caught up in an eternal dance,

The music takes over you and me!

Each parting of lips and skin bringing a crescendo of sounds that quicken the pulse and fills the soul to overflowing with joy,

It is too bad, when this music comes to an end; not a song, nor a dance, but, something greater by far,

I now understand why people liken a full orchestral symphonic masterpiece at its most uplifting moments- to the act of making love!

Christmas Eve!

I’m making my way home for christmas, with memories swirling around,

Passing carollers, couples and families, making their way to midnight mass near Muswell Hill;

Some of the parishioners have the distinct whiff of pub-crawlers who’ve been turned out at last call!

An eclectic mix to be certain celebrating a common bond,

While I am not of this faith, I find my natural cynicism washed away by a wave of optimism in any case,

Fuelled by a shared heritage that’s crept up on me unexpectedly  over time-

I may not be a wide-eyed child any more, my fondest memories tend to still surround:

Turkey, gravy, crispy roast potatoes and stuffing with extra sage please!

Minced pies, Christmas pudding, doused with brandy, and set alight to a gentle blue flame-

Voraciously gouged down with generous dollops of clotted cream!

Accompanied by mulled wine and appetisers, until your stomach literally strains to keep it all in!

Watching the Queen’s annual message at 3:00pm feeling more uncomfortably full than civic;

Followed by the Christmas Movie and the Eastender’s Double Bill, joining in with a collective mock-gasp at the inevitable shocking end!

No, it’s not the food (though, I can’t help but look forward to it);

Or, the memories (which are a mixed bag, if I am honest!);

Or, even, the veneer that comes from reflecting through rose-tinted spectacles, at greener pastures, that weren’t truly green at all,

What I am truly looking forward to this christmas is: to spend some time with my family, and not a mention of work, if I am lucky!!

Lost at Sea

Myth is a mystic;

She washes her waves over me;

Freezing cold, I shake like a rattle snake in my dreams,

Only to wake to find, life is not a dream;

I cautiously stand on a half-submerged float, amidst an intemperate sea;

Uninterrupted, in every direction, as far as one can see save for sky and sea,

Empty pails in every available space to collect fresh water, from a threatened rain that has yet to descend;

Keeping my footing, I climb the make-shift mast and shape my body into a crucifix facing the sky,

You could almost mistake the sound of lapping water, for the applause an acrobat receives at performance’s end;

Dark clouds and faint wisps of light mingle and compete for supremacy and dominion overhead,

While despair and loss are twin cruel cherubs, tormenting my gnawing hunger ‘n’ thirst for sport,

I close my eyes at hearing the rumble of thunder, signalling an end to the drawn-out competition above,

‘Please, some water…’, a cherished plea… too precious to be spoken aloud,

Lest it give sucre to my tormentors, and leave my already-ravaged will defenceless against their onslaught!

An exhaustion-ridden smile escapes my lips despite my extremity, as the first droplets of rain splatter across my cheek;

A clap of thunder and a downpour at a tropical, frantic, pace-

Like evenly-paced applause turning by ear alone to a standing ovation in an instant,

A sea of a million water sprouts: like a storm of needles, striking a sea of translucent bubble wrap, bursting in unison, ad infinitum, in-near muted silence:

I open my mouth, dehydrated to parchment, to receive this precious gift to prolong this life a little longer than expected,

A fragile grace in this hostile landscape, perhaps not enough to find landfall or rescue,

And, I may find myself repeating this exhaustive dessolate battle in a few days yet again,

Whatever happens, this gives me hope and that is nearly as sweet as swallowing this fresh water to nourish my innards, for a day longer at least!

Spy


Spy

Nothing is a surprise

Every action supplemented by-

Trickery, half-truths, feints, pretence & lies

Deniability, the weapon of choice-

Acquisition, strict control & protection of ‘controlled information’, their 24/7 obsession

Maintaining an inconsistent narrative (with hardly an affinity to fact or reality) under the guise of ‘plausibility’,

Overstating the one, undermining the other, whilst appearing to be neutral & maintaining detached professionalism to onlookers (when you’re anything but),

Professional deceivers, confidence men (and, women) of sorts!

You don’t think so? Arn’t you just the gullible sort!

Designed to conceal, cajole, embellish & undermine-

The primary tools in their belt of surprisingly few tools/resources, save a preponderance & an over saturation of lies ,

For us homosapiens have changed very little since the beginning of time!

Maintaining order, parliamentary democracy is their publically-avowed objective & purpose,

The truth however, is likely a little more complicated to be certain!

What means & methods are employed & margin of discretion entertained (like with all positions of authority) is likely very wide,

Dependent upon an individual’s grasp of what’s right, not, & propensity to tolerate lies,

I am not saying you cannot be a good man (or woman) or honourable and a spy,

But this necessary secrecy of their occupation is likely eroding their sense of self slowly from the inside;

A little more each day with each concealment & miss-direction, authorised,

Gradually, turning you into a hermit by stealth or borderline schizophrenic, over time,

Or, find comfort instead in your ‘tradecraft’-

By sharing your secrets among your inner circles, keeping to your codes and self-made rules:

Carefully designed to keep persistent questions at bay,

To buy you a restful night’s sleep,

To assure yourself that, by your actions; you were not a cruel man (or woman) yesterday, nor complicit in torture today,

All you have done is what is necessary (which another would have done in your place or had you passed up the opportunity),

And, you have the support & backing of your superiors at the HO, MoD & FCO!

That is all well & good, & I wish you a contended, un-interrupted, restful sleep if that is your view;

However, what happens on the day, when the rule of unintended consequences flies a spanner in the works of this well-oiled & practised machinery,

Laying bare all the titbits for public consumption?

Will they be delighted or find the whole affair distasteful?

Whatever their view, be sure to hear the clamour to the door as you absorb the pragmatic volt face in recrimination, of this erstwhile diligently practised stealthy art of war!

Woman!

Woman, thou art strange!

All your constituent parts fascinate me,

But, I can’t be a scientist every single moment of the day,

Some of your theories will drive a logician mad!

While anthropologists will wager on the hours till I probably snap!

It isn’t that bad if I am honest with you,

I am not that easy to live with, I know that to be true;

You’re hot and cold but never lukewarm:

Your loveliness brightens a room, so you’re very handy during a blackout!

You can throw that towel away, ’cause i’m not interested in throwing it in;

I doubt i’ll ever will-

-if you don’t happen to ring my neck with it first, that is!-

‘Cause you might just be the best thing that ever happened to me!

Defining Yourself

Who am i?

I am named ‘won’,

My mother named me while she was pregnant with me,

Out of hope, I trust;

I have inherited her worrisome qualities and love of words,

But i’d be hard-pressed to tell you what i’ve done,

Unremarkable to most,

Hapless, to others;

I find myself completely boring to reflect upon,

On the other hand:

My older brother is quiet, reflective and has read a lot!

My sister is dynamically-inclined, with a homeward-directed temper, to match!

My father is the bravest soul I have ever known,

Both my mother and my wife cajole and inspire me,

They say they see there’s more to me than I see in myself;

Unlikely as I feel this last sentiment is;

(And, occasionally have been known to lash out when I probably needn’t or shouldn’t have);

I love them all so very much;

So, wherever my story ends up,

I suppose one thing I have to unite my namesake and me, is:

I have ‘won’ my life and their love;

And should do with it the best I can.