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nihal wandas

Updated: Sun, 10 Feb 2008 08:14 pm

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Biography

im 28. half Greek half Sri lankan, i grew up in Melbourne Australia and have moved to London to be inspired, to work and pursue a spoken word career. i have written since i was old enough to remember, i am ready to share my words with the world now........

Samples

The alabaster purple cowboy The alabaster purple cowboy. I see him with alabaster eyes. He knows me, he sees me, through his eyelids he sees. We know each other the alabaster purple cowboy and I. Its cold here, right now, the tube smells of sweat and worn out love, kisses and candy. Hot sex dried to the bone and ice left out to melt. The train moves it’s serpent like body, chick chick chick, its smooth, bump over bump, stop after stop. The alabaster purple cowboy holds one of the top rail with his left hand, he’s right near the door. His eyes are closed, he wears a black suit, just like the colour of his skin. His suit is old just like the age of his face, his right hand reaches into the left side of his jacket, hidden, concealed. Alabaster purple cowboy what you up to? His trousers are 3 inches too long, they drape over his sad shoes like sad memories on an old man’s porch. Hanging, resting, pondering. His shoes are black and cold and unforgiving just like the look on his face. He stands legs are apart swaying with the chick, chick, chick of the train…. The lights flicker as we ride, stop to stop, heartbeat to heartbeat. I try to see his face but he’s giving nothing away. The train rickety racks. Im worried but not for myself, worried about what he’s just done or something he might just be about to do. On his head he wears a purple cowboy hat, purple like the toys at a carnival, a purple that contrasts with the white and red interior of the train the way a white man would contrast in an African village in the 16th century or yesturday… There are a few other people on the train, three girls sit across from me, oblivious, only slightly aware. The alabaster purple cowboy never opens his eyes. He is so far off in some far away place, not here or there, his head gently leans forward facing the ground. His lips are almost moving. Praying? Singing? Alabaster purple cowboy where are you right now? What do you want to feel? What are you trying to say to anyone? The train slurps its way. The doors open, he moves his right hand and both arms are raised, he’s not here I can sense that he’s lost maybe not ever going to be found. I watch myself watch him. His purple felt hat from where did such a hat come from? So many questions that this moment in time can’t hold the answers to. We sway and clatter on, the doors open again and just as quick as he came into my vision, he leaves. He stumbles backwards off the train as if this is the only stop he was ever going to leave from. He’s going to who knows where in the cold January afternoon that knows no prisoners, only secrets that need to be told, someday. London life consumes and ponders. I see it. It sees me. It exists because I am here to see it and just like when I was young, standing on a diving board in the middle of a hot day with the placid blue water at my feet. I will dive into London and it all stands for and has to offer me with the same spring in my step. Alabaster purple cowboy I hope you ride into the night and that your hat is your sanctuary and I hope your journey continues to inspire me. We’ll never meet again but right now you are immortalised in my journal and forever more. I hope you find your sanity or your horse or whatever it is you need to find………………… You entice me but then you take it away. Words. We let them linger then drift off and we can’t seem to find them again. Sometimes we can’t even put then together in the same order, you spark a fire inside me, with one look of your eyes my fire burns bright then stays alight. You’re almost as picturesque and as vivid as my dreams and I would devour you for every minute of every day that we spend together if I could. The intensity prevails over what is right and what is wrong. In states of repetition in hours that dwindle and fly away my mind races up and down walls and each time it turns another corner it’s you that comes to my mind. What it is we have we might never know. That feeling of belonging, comfort, serenity. Its something unlike anything else and its beautiful and tragic and amazing and strong and windy and still. That’s all that should matter and to not want you would be to not want to live, it comes as easy and natural. That feeling of wanting that craving. The turmoil that turns into inspiration. The inspiration that keeps me sane and happy and blessed that I found you and you are in my life and no matter what or where that bond that language that we speak without talking will always be there. Amongst the sea of everything I found a diamond and just like a prized jewel I would love to keep you locked away but just like everything that exists that’s as bright and rich and beautiful the world is a better place just because you’re here and your smile could chase away a million demons and your kiss could ignite a million fires in angels hearts, there is no substitute and every girl that comes after you couldn’t hold a light in your shadow, and I don’t know why I feel this way about you its something you possess that I can see for what it really is and I wont forget it and I’ll keep searching in every other girl for it but you could conquer worlds and inspire a thousand poems and never stop knowing that you are what you are and fishes will swim to you and its all good and sacred and special and amazing………..

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

Viewed 912 times since 10 Feb 2008

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