Best Kiosk Poems

My infancy was the time for imagining your unique beauty
As the saprophyte danced in the magical fountain of ambiguity
You ingenuously stole my pulverized heart with...

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Are Flowers for Picking?

I question myself,
silently standing beside
the quaint wooden kiosk 
in the centre of the square.
My eyes scan the freshly 
picked assortment of roses,...

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The line of people out the door.
The queue that snaked around the floor.
The building's sleek art deco style.
The carpets' faded plush red pile.

The "Coming Soon"...

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I embrace the nocturnal shade 
coiled beneath tangerine lamplight 
on the corner of the street 
in case a certain little lady walks by. 
I am...

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In solitude with eyes
closed, a bell flashes with a
little girl chuckling, chasing it.
In stillness, silence, the bell starts
tolling and the girl intently stares at it,
eyes...

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The moon had got itself tangled up
in a glass telephone kiosk.
Tricks of light do not apply to moonlight,
for it is a ghost
haunting its face only...

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Yesterday, I went to an exhibit which showcased the native products of the place where I grew up.  It was held at the entire...

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Her love was a parking garage kiosk


Take your ticket when you enter

The money saved is legal tender 
       ...

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I woke up early this morning contemplating, 
pondering over the meaning of this dream, 
Dreams that take me to mountains and valleys
Dreams that lands me...

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All of Islam deserves our hate
Unlike ours—this faith can’t be great
The ground zero mosque
Is an evil kiosk
Our lord says to obliterate

What’s better than the Ku...

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(Manifesto) 

VIII … stop! - Skid! - Shift knobs, slide gears, vomit numbness, fondle!… the music of 
guillotines!… 

VII … unmannered retching! since everything is...

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THE RISEN HEADS

We know ourselves for long, since ages
A time we spent in a small kiosk as bar boys, in the weekdays
A time we spent...

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Archie A. Agag, the American Idol Kaiser
Be hiding in an underground concrete bunker
Closed-eyed hate peeper sleepy late-riser
Dreaming of a bottom end H-bomb dumpster
Enter the REM...

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An Impossible Dream (A Cry of a Truck Pusher)

The street is my home
It is where I belong
I know no love
So I make it not part...

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THE HOLY WEEK 

I reminisce, I miss……
This week is Holy Week and I cannot help;
but to reminisce how we observed the
Holy Week, when I was...

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