The Midfielder

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When you feel wet by me,
As if you are the cross and
I am Jesus, take in a deep breath,
Do as it pleases


You know, there are some folks
Who are objects and desires. Meant to be
Touched, felt; but, not to be held, as they’re fated.
When you deem to hold on, life gets complicated.

Larkin of the shrivelled ball says “man hands
Misery to man”. Like in baton races. Wish
He would rather stick to a simple plan
Cos man is misery; no misery no man.

As it pleases you: as if life would flow
Like a municipal drain. So, knowing that
We may return, to meet, but that this
Moment of the river will not again.

We, whose tomorrow is bleak, whose
Past is the sinner may hold the
Torch and light our own path to delight.
Or dread. Or drone. Whatever takes us home.



2 thoughts on “The Midfielder

    Malinda Seneviratne said:
    May 6, 2010 at 7:15 am

    Vihanga….quit writing fiction…poetry is what you do best.

    vihanga responded:
    May 7, 2010 at 6:00 am

    Oh u mistaken Ma Sene. What I do best is what u strive to do best… 😉 Pood po tought..

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