Arousal

Her naked breasts looked even smaller

Now that they were not shielded by padded clothing

And they made her feel so insignificant

As she wondered if her stomach reached further than her breasts

She traced a journey of a drop of sweat

That traveled from her neck to between her soft mounds

Kissing the short hairs on her belly

To the dark curls shielding her womanhood

And she remembered how she had felt

As his lips had followed a similar route

Stopping to kiss where her dark skin

Turned an even darker shade of brown

And she realised that although

There were signs of arousal

Nipples standing proud, for instance,

She had felt nothing but a deep distance from reality.

හේතුවක්

සමහර දාට
  නොපෙනුනත්
ඇත ඇගේ දෑසේ
  මහා දුකක්
එයට හේතුව
  නොදැන සිටියත්
ඇයට දියයුතය
  සිනහවන්නට හේතුවක්

Student unions

It was a rainy evening

Tired beings headed back home

After a day's work

Of writing, signing, typing, filing, etc.

And they were all warned

About the terrible traffic

Such an inconvenince

Cause by the dreaded, havoc-playing,

Nothing better to do, too much time in their hands,

Unappreciative student unions

And while people complained

Sighed, dozed off only to find that

During their nap

The vehicle hadn't moved an inch

While heads were scratched

Books were read

Tweets tweeted

Photos liked

How many asked what the matter was?

How many realised the weight on the

Students' shoulders?

How many knew about the debt these

Students were drowning in?

How many stopped to read a banner?

How many spoke to the activists?

How many wondered if there was

Reason behind the protest?

Many cursed them

Took photographs

Posted about the traffic situation

Some even called the students

'Ungrateful' 'monkeys'

And yet

While people complained about being

'Traffucked'

None seemed to be concerned about

How badly the students were

Fucked

By the system.

කබල් ෆෝන්

ඇයි ඔච්චර
කබල් ෆෝන් එකක්
පාවිච්චි කරන්නේ?
ගන්නකෝ හොඳ
ස්මාර්ට් ෆෝන් එකක්
මා ගාව තියෙන
ෆෝන් එකට
හිනාවෙමින්
ඔයා කියද්දි
මම කොහොමද කියන්නෙ
කබල් ෆෝන් පාවිච්චි කරන්නේ
ඔයාගේ වට්ස්ඇප්, ෆේස්බුක් මෙසේග් වලින්

ගැලවෙන්න කියලා?

I'm not real

I'm not a real Sri Lankan because
  Cricket doesn't excite or interest me
  I can't eat spicy food
  I avoid public transport as much as possible

I'm not a real reader because
  I haven't read Harry Potter
  Or Lord of the Rings
  Or any of the classics

I don't write real poems becuase
  What I write doesn't rhyme
  I don't know/use any 'big words'
  I don't read or understand many poems

I'm not a real girl becuase
  I don't own any makeup (unless lip balm counts)
  I can't wear heels (not that I want to)
  I don't paint my nails or wear many dresses

Freedom is an illusion

We used to watch the raindrops

Cling to the window

With all the strength they could muster

Asking to be tied down

Rather than surrendering to the

Freedom to fly away with the wind

And you traced their quiet journey

To the bottom, to splash on to puddles gathering beneath

Smiling at the thought of being as free

As free as a raindrop that chooses to stay

As free as a heart that doesn’t let go

As free as a mind that sticks to old-fashioned ways

As free as a dove that flies back in to cage

And as you watched the raindrops

I couldn’t help feeling sad

To break your bubble and tell you

That no one is ever free

So I whisper ‘freedom is an illusion’

And you don’t hear me

Or you pretend not to

Naked

Go on

Show it all to them

Your bare skin

Unclothed

Unshielded

Exposed

Vulnerable

Naked

Ignore social cries

Lust in their eyes

Don't follow their eyes

Don't look at the saliva at the corners of their mouths

Show them who you are

Just as they made you

Every curve

Every blemish

Every mark

Every scar

Bare it all to them

Show them what you are made of

Challenge them

With your honesty

Disrobe those clothed liars

Hiders of truth and

Keepers of secret

Let your nudity

Jerk them awake

Make them come

To the conclusion that

Clothes constrict

Imprison

Hide

Lie.

5, 7, 5?

Why did you bother
Counting syllables knowing
I like breaking the rules?



5, 7, 5

Glass boxes

We are exhibits

In glass boxes

Oblivious to the

Eyes observing our

Every movement.

Worship

She spits out
Bitter love worship
Chant to bring him
Back to her
Venom soaked prayers
To a venomous god
Offers dead flowers
Blossomed in her dead heart
Thorny offering
Drawing blood
She hits forehead on stone ground
Doesn't cry out as blood soaks skin
Already so sweat-drenched
The bells chime
Haunting music
That shakes heart
Makes mind shudder
At the sound of
Repulsive love-song
She offers soul
For his
To be hers
Until death strikes