Friday, December 24, 2004


I shouldn't, possibly, use words
to bare my anger,
atomize the public.

This is a form of
I've tried in the past,
only to cut myself up writhing,
for words written are blacker
than deeds
and skin you as much as me.

But when we've just made love
and are lying drowsy
in each other's arms

And you leave
to drink
with friends you haven't invited
and pass around riotous
opinionated talk

- I'm not sure if this is
overreacting -

I get upset
enough to throw something in your face.
These words.


Anonymous said...

Prune the adjective bush, and your poetry will bloom. But write on, write on.


Ubermensch said...

this is substance.

Manu Sharma said...

Prune the adjective bush?

Never write for anyone else; write for yourself, I say. And your poety will bloom.

Manu Sharma said...

No, let me correct that. Be true to yourself and your poems will be real. That's more precious than anything else.

But I don't need to say all this. They already are.

Monica said...

Thanks, Manu. We try, we try!