Dream on the rocks (A Wet Poem)

He dreamt of dreams dying young, cowdung,

he ate his mother’s lullabys

he sung

ballads of heroes unsung

Fate, he had been told

quite old but bold

sagging butts

cigarette stubs

eternity diluted in sinking pubs

where he drank

his sloth,

moths been served

in froth with desserts

poured in tall glasses

made for wine

stinking divine

with corpses from middle classes

working five to nine with

liquefied eyes, black rimmed glasses

with their

nullified veins

stupefied try(s)

magnified pains

classified sighs

petrified shames


In his dreams

he robbed trains

with windows full of


of pre-matured puberty

with traces of semi-cooked liberty

with jaded shadows reflecting

faded sorrows


In his dreams

he drowned

in the sea of hopeless faces

with lost eyelids

with ‘O’ shaped lips

on a forgotten busy street

on a deserted Tuesday morning

among countless shoulders

and scattered chatters

eyes as big as a full grown lemon

staring at him

while he drowned


In his dreams

he saw curtains

lost in them, lots of them

with patterns, stripes, colors, textures


he ate

naked limbs of young woman draped

he gulped

a pale yellow snake

with purple wings of a snail

snake slept in his heart

after biting him on his tongue

he puked cowdung

and ordered another round

of a customized sound of a tender mob on tenterhooks with dirty cooks.

Tagged , , , , ,

14 thoughts on “Dream on the rocks (A Wet Poem)

  1. calvin3000 says:

    What a visual journey! Thanks mate!

  2. Aakshat Sinha says:

    Hearing it was one thing. Reading truly another. This is the kind of poem that one has to read repeatedly to self so as to make all the visuals correct and clear as the words transform the reality.
    Thanks. What a great read!

  3. K. A. Anand says:

    sadness was never more beautiful.

  4. Romain Camus says:

    You are the Doude.

  5. Seyi sandra says:

    Great poem, I read it twice, it was like a song and it is deeply mesmerising! Good job.
    Cheers -:)

  6. coastalmom says:

    A true poet! I’m going to remember your name!

  7. Pooja Parashar says:

    different very different; yet so easy!!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


humming and hawing with words

culture monks

interdiciplinary arts praxis

Bartholomew The Novella

Bite the apple. Take a risk.


A great WordPress.com site

ray shannon spicer



Only selected advertising


Woh kare baat toh har lafz se khushboo aaye, Aisi boli wohi bole jise Urdu aaye. -Poet Ahmed Wasi-

Museum Nerd (>140)

This is where I post when it won't fit in a tweet.

Driven to Verse

Poetry and Prose, by Mark Scherz

Covered in Beer

by Thomas Cochran, Known Moron

Gotta Find a Home

Conversations with Street People

Sick and Sick of It

But Still Living The Life

The Indian Express

Latest News, Breaking News India, Today Headlines, Election Results 2018 Live News


There are no foxes here

The life of almost every 20 something

This WordPress.com site is the cat’s pajamas

A Mirror Obscura,

Poetry, musings and sightings from where the country changes

Amsterdam cycle routes

Cycle routes in and around Amsterdam.

%d bloggers like this: