Poetry

Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
'I dedicate this poem to the
Once love of my life'
People smiled
And then they laughed as he
Started reciting his poem
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Over and over again, the same two words on repeat
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
He looked at a creased paper as he said
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
And he guided a stray curl behind his ear
His lips moving
As his monotonous poem went on and on
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
And the audience grinned, laughed
The poem was funny at first
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Dedicated to the once love of his life
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
And then the smiles faded and eyes closed
Hands played with the grass and sand
Others remained intertwined
Like their hair, like his hair
Curls and curls
His tied with a light brown rubber band
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
And she watched him, baffled
How the fuck was this poetry?
What the fuck is poetry?
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Her anger increased
How dare he, how dare they, think this good poetry?
Poetry worth reciting, poetry worth listening to
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
But then their eyes met for a moment
As his scanned the audience
Maybe in search for
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
The once love of his life
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
And then she saw what made him a poet
And her nothing, nothing at all
Because while she scribbled on a paper
Which then went into hiding with the various other
Pieces of paper in her bag
Poems, thoughts, receipts, tickets
He was standing there
Reciting his poem
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
To people who were listening
Understanding
Reading between the lines
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
And she was nothing
For god's sake
She couldn't even understand what the poem meant
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
She scribbled a poem of her own
Two words stolen from hi
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Hid it under a stone near the giant frangipani tree
Muttered a 'fuck me' and left
A nobody among an ocean of poets
Self-proclaimed of course
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you

Anger

I was only disappointed at first
That you ended up being the kind of person
I avoided like I avoid death
But, I guess, like death
You refused to be avoidable forever
So there were those months of happiness
And then there were months of disappointment

Now I'm just angry
I wouldn't have been if I had thought it was all my fault
If I thought I misread, I misinterpreted, I misjudged
But no, a forgotten memory reminded me
It was your fault too
You gave me enough and more reasons to believe
And what you did was wrong
So now my disappointment has turned into anger
And anger is less easy to forget or ignore than disappointment is

කුරුල්ලන් සහ ආදරය

"මම පොල්කිච්චෙක්
ඔයගේ ජීවිතේ ඉන්න එකම එක
පොල්කිච්චා මමයි,"
ඔහු කී විට ඈට මතක් වුනේ
පොඩිකාලේ ගෑයූ ගීතයක්
එක් පොල්කිච්චෙක් දුක ගේන බවත්
දෙදෙනෙක් සතුට ගේන බවත්
ඒ ගීතයේ කියවෙයි
ඔහු ඒ ගැන දැනගෙන මෙන්
ඇයට අනතුරු ඇඟවීමක් මෙන් කියයි නැවත
"මම තමයි ඔයාගේ ජීවිතේ ඉන්න එකම පොල්කිච්චා."

ගිරවෙක් වගේ ඔහු ඇය කියනදේ නැවත නැවත කියයි
මම ඔයාට ආදරෙයි
  මම ඔයාට ආදරෙයි
මම කවදාවත්ම ඔයාව දාලා යන්නේ නැහැ
  මම කවදාවත්ම ඔයාව දාලා යන්නේ නැහැ
මම ඔයාට ආදරෙයි
  මම ඔයාට ආදරෙයි
ඔහුට ඒවා වචන නෙවෙයි
එහි අරුත ගැන ඔහුන ගාණක් නැහැ
ශබ්ද විතරයි
ඇය කියන දේ ඒ විදියටම ගිරවෙක් වගේ ඔහු කියනවා

සුදුරෙදි හොරා කල හොරකම හංගන්නට විදියක් නැහැ
සුදුම සුදු ඒ රෙදි පටිය, කුරුලු ඇඟේම කොටසක්
පුහුල් හොරාගේ හොරකමද
ඔහුගේ කරෙන් දැනේ
ගිනිහොරා හොරකම්කල ගිනිදැල්ල
නොනිවී එලෙසම පවතී
මේ හැමදෙනාගේම හොරකමින් ගැලවෙන්න විදියක් නෑ ඔවුන්ට
එහෙත් ඔහුට පුළුවන් වුනා
ඇගෙන් හොරකම් කල ආදරය
එක පන්සිල් පදයක්වත් නොකඩපු විදියට
ලෝකයාගෙන් හංගාගෙන ඉන්න

පොඩිකාලේ ලොකු ලොකුවට උපන්දින සැමරුවා
දාස්ගණන් දීලා කේක්, බීම ජාති, පැණිරස කෑම ගත්තා
ඒත් ඈට දහතුණ ලබද්දී අම්මා කිව්වා
"මේ පාර අපි කුරුල්ලෙක් නිදහස් කරමු" කියලා
ඉතින් පරවියෙක්ව කූඩුවකට දාලා තියාගත්තා
උපන් දිනේ එනකන්, ඌව නිදහස් කරන්න
දහතුන ලබපු දා උදෙන්ම නැගිට, ඈ දුවගෙන ගියේ ඒ කූඩුවට
කුඩා කම්බි දොර ඇර "දැන් නුඹ නිදහස්" යැයි කීහ
කුරුල්ලා ඈ දිහා බලා සිටියා විතරයි
"හා දැන් ඉතින් යන්නකෝ"
ඒත් පරවියා කූඩුවටම වෙලා හිටියා
"ඕන දෙයක් කරගනින්" කියා ඈ ගෙදර ඇතුලට ගියා
පැයකට පසුව ඇවිත් බලද්දී කූඩුව හිස්
පරවියා යන්න ගිහින්
ඈට ඇඬුනා
අවුරුදු ගාණකට පස්සෙත් ඈ ඒ විදියටම අඬුවා
"යන්න. මාව දාල යන්න" කියා කෑගැහුවාට ඔහු ගියේ නැහැ
ඉතින් ඈ යන්න ගියා
බලපොරොත්තු ඇතුව ඈ නැවත ඔහු හිටපු තැනට එද්දී
ඔහු යන්ට ගිහින්

"ඇයි ඔයා ඕන මස් ජාතියක් කෑවට
කුකුල් මස් කන්නැත්තේ?"
ඔහු අසයි
ඇය සිනා සී කිව්වේ මෙපමණි
"මම නිසා කුරුල්ලන්ටත්
කුරුල්ලන් නිසා මටත්
වෙලා තියෙන දේවල් හොඳටෝම ඇති."

Microfractures

When it was too late to stay awake

But too hot to fall asleep

Last night

I learned about microfractures

Where, if I understood correctly,

Bones are broken again and again

And when they heal, they get stronger and stronger

And this is done by fighters

To strengthen their bones

Until they can even

Break through stone

And I wondered if human hearts

Worked like this too

Where with each blow

They get stronger and stronger

And I thought of you

Pictured you reaching behind your ribs

Grabbing your pulsating heart

And finding cold, hard stone

With edges so sharp they cut the bruised skin of your hand

Weekend rebel

He is a weekend rebel

A weekend revolutionist

Friday evenings too

Sometimes, rarely,

During the week

He has a name

Not on the plastic card

Issued by the government

He sees as a parent

He must fight against

Like an angry teenager

He has a sensible name

On his birth certificate

Which, according to him,

Belongs to a different him

But it is the same sheet of paper

He took with him

To all those job interviews

At those top firms

And now, he sits in a smoke-filled room

As paper and leaves burn

Making them one with the earth

As their lord

Mother Nature

The beautiful, the pure

Touches their souls

Like no one ever has

And they kiss the soles

Of her dark feet

Murmur a prayer

And scribble a poem

He is the weekend rebel

With his long curls and beard

Cotton shirts

Dazed look

He is a poet

Well-known on social media

Under a name

No self-respecting parent

Would give their child

And he write poems

That are just words

He reads aloud each

As if he carved them

Himself

And the others applaud

Their mighty fighter

Impressed by his

Hateful, incomprehensible poetry

And his phone rings then

He sees her name in the screen

It's no fancy smartphone

Just the kind fit for the oppressed

Of course, unlike the one

He uses at work

And he tells her to join him

Later that night

To explore the pleasures

Hidden beneath clothing

And as the night turns into dawn

Our revolutionist bids goodbye

To his cotton pants

And slurred speech

He wakes up early

Has his tea

Wears his shirt and pants

Combs and ties his hair

He takes the bus

To the building that reaches the clouds

Standing tall right next to its twin

And there he is

At his cubicle

Following the rules

No longer a rebel

A man married to socialism

And sleeping with capitalism

Or is his wife the latter

And mistress the former?

You

I won’t lie
There were others after you
And they did more
Stayed for longer
Should have meant more
But when the days get lonely
And I catch my mind wandering
Towards the people of the past
I can’t help but stop for longer
When I come across your name

Waste not?

And darling
I want you to know
I’ll love you
Despite
What you say
Or do
Or whom you choose
Or rather
Despite
What you don’t
Say
Or do
I will still love you
Not because I’m content
With the unrequited
But because
We have no control over
Our beating hearts
And we can’t love
Because we want to
And we can’t not love
When we want to
So darling
Know that you’ll be loved
By me
Even though I’d rather
Not waste my love on you

What if...

I often wonder these days
What we would say to each other
When we meet again

Would I just stare at you
As those memories hidden beneath
Everything else
Push through and fight
And surface?

Would we forget it all and smile
And share with each other
Our lives as they turned out
After you and I
Stopped telling each other
Everything?

Would we pretend to have
Not seen each other and just
Walk away because it still hurts
When we think about all the possibilities
That lay in front of us during those days?

Would we walk past each other
Because after all these years
Finally, we are strangers
And don't recognize
Those once too-familiar
Faces?

And then I think
But what if we never meet again?
And my mind erases that thought immediately
Because life can't be that cruel
Surely that last hurried moment
Can't be our last?

For you

For you

All these words

Every single one of them

But there's no use

Is there

In writing for a person

Who no longer cares

In writing in a place

You no longer visit?

Stars

The stars were a green-yellow

Of course not real

Merely star-shaped

Glow in the dark

And they did

Glow in the dark

And they were bright against

The blue-purple-black sky

That was the ceiling above her

And in the darkness she counted them

The stars fading away

One... two... three... And so she counted

Looking for constellations

To name

And as the stars lost their glow

And faded into the night's darkness

She wished, silently, that

He was beside her.