Drudgery Buildings

August 2, 2016 at 11:33 am (Dominic Alapat, Poetry)

grey in the rain

same old place

of people

going about

busy

on foot

in vehicles

flowing down

S V Road here

this drab dull day

this sewage of a city

in the downpour

this slushland

these crowded traffic horns

barking like mad dogs

these skies roaring in horror

these windows on edge

making my mind sweat

in rivers of randomness

I find myself drowning

amidst a million lives

I cannot understand

anything of

I cannot understand anything.

– Dominic Alapat

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Sometimes Here At Night

June 20, 2016 at 5:19 pm (Dominic Alapat, Poetry)

the moon howls so loud

I cannot sleep

the buildings wake

to a sky so drained

of blood in her blue face

the stars scared

all run from place

and fall into the darkness

one by one

in this mad night

so angry

it just won’t let go

of this terrified time’s tail

I must lie here in bed blank

my open eyes so strained

I could burst

any moment

and die.

-Dominic Alapat

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Life In Memory

May 15, 2016 at 4:29 pm (Dominic Alapat, Poetry)

that is the food

you eat

that is all you are allowed

and there are gardens of flowers

words words like air

you breathe

that keep you going

and when that connection is weak

you are sad

poetry and pain

in each other’s arms

in this one life

alone together

and the day smiles wickedly

the superior sun with its burning countenance

is blasé cruel blaring its bad heat

into your breaking mind

so mad so mad

your brain blows its fuse

and goes out

and only now do the dark clouds appear

in the sky in the morning

and burst into rain

these are your tears

this the sound of your cry

haunting the sky

your voice

soon washed into silence

-Dominic Alapat

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You Said

April 10, 2016 at 8:12 am (Dominic Alapat, Poetry, Uncategorized)

you were walking
with a bucket in your hand
you said God was in the bucket
you said you walked for hours
along this road in a foreign country
while cars went zzzupp zzzupp
in the afternoon
many years later I met you once
outside my house
you were drunk
you played your piano in that hall
and hit us
we sang
transported
on a sea of song
we sailed to Rome
O captain at the helm
see this soldier
marching off to war
in his helmet and armour
his mother weeping
we ran like deer through the woods
chased by a burning moon
we sang and the hall rang with our voices
vive la vive la vive l’amour
your wife had died…
many years after your own death
today I think of your dark glasses
your grief.

– Dominic Alapat

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We Are Tree

March 6, 2016 at 1:48 pm (Dominic Alapat, Poetry)

bird
singing angel
in the blue bush
of the sky
when we stand
at windows
in the cool air
of the morning
the buildings race
like a symphony
till the eye can see
the mind register
this beautiful expanse
this silent music of the senses
charmed
begin to soar
in the darkness
that is clearing.

– Dominic Alapat

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Over The Sea

February 7, 2016 at 8:22 am (Dominic Alapat, Poetry)

~ For Adil Jussawalla

the birds fly in one straight line
the golden sea in early evening
a hazy smell of brine hangs in the air
there’s the white lighthouse
and the boats
a yacht
with a triangle of white sail
a speedboat leaving
a long white line
in the water
and nearby the lanes
leading to Sassoon Dock
the old lime-washed buildings
almost black
like ghost houses
their red-tiled roofs
faded brown
grey
the flowering trees
like a beautiful forest of colours
orange red white
the crossroads with vehicles plying
the red BEST buses
the people on the footpaths
taking their tiny lives about
the big white skyscrapers here
their windows
their terraces with antennas
the patches of green land
in the distance
the blue mountains beyond
and the birds
always the birds
crows herons pigeons
flying in this sky
while we talk
in your house here
18 stories above the ground.

– Dominic Alapat

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If I Was A Painter

December 5, 2015 at 4:40 pm (Dominic Alapat, Poetry)

 I would paint the scene

outside my window this morning

Mograpada in mist

the small brown houses

in the distance

the railway tracks beyond

all hazy

the signal poles the buildings

and the trains slowly ambling

its like a scene

from some dream

a painting

in beautiful hues of whites blues and earth

I would draw

this local paradise

but it was while I was thinking this

that the best part happened

when an engine blew

its loud melodious horn

and had the final word.

 

– Dominic Alapat

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I Weep

November 18, 2015 at 6:40 pm (Dominic Alapat, Poetry)

from the belly of my mind.

The withered trees are silent crows.

There is not a single star

no moon in my mouth.

I am empty of myself.

I fall into water.

 

The sky emits black smoke

in great whooshes.

Birds burst into blobs of blood.

Buildings collide, collapse into rubble.

Everywhere my poor mother

distraught, dies.

 

– Dominic Alapat

 

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I Have Been Collecting My Thoughts

October 16, 2015 at 7:32 pm (Dominic Alapat, Poetry)

day by day

without fail

but they all

seem the same

the same old room

the same old sun

the same old buildings hum

I think I’ll be mum

rather than some dull drum

but my mind keeps pushing me

and I go from room to room

and keep forgetting myself over and over

in the morning

in the afternoon

in the grey evening light before night

when birds circle frantically in the blue

I coo

O sky fall

do not stay there so sombre

let me rise

rise and rise

unrestrained.

– Dominic Alapat

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Passing by the Spanish Restaurant

September 26, 2015 at 9:23 am (Dani Clark, Poetry)

Each eve from office to bus stop
I walk by a Spanish restaurant
all blood red and velvet inside
where I can see
rows of bottles making pretty
over a brass bar.
It can be summer
people eat outside on
sidewalk tables
the fragrance of fried fish curls
like a woman’s finger
looping and looping in the air
and making me want
something
I’m not sure what.
Or, it can be cold out
a couple is ensconced
at a small table inside
she looks down traces a finger
on the bleach-white cloth
something illicit and warm
is happening
is made fuller
by the breaking of bread
and the garnet liquid.
We are always
and everywhere
passing each other by.
A suited man will look
beyond the glass one day
to a woman with brown hair
walking slowly on the sidewalk
now is the time he thinks.

But how in a million years
could I ever open the door
put my palms on her face
siphon her aliveness
have her walk away with me
into the night.

-Dani Clark

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