Humans yearn
for freedom
and thunderous thrills
in pissing off the
pack of people.
Hungry to fill
“essence” in the
existence.
Yet
the rebel
after tucking in the glasses
lulls the blood
when
the weight of
liability
blame
and the likes of it
reveal themselves.
From the nebula of
liberty and free rein
comes
the creeps
angst and
unresting nerves.
Man
being
who he is
doesn’t yet have the
bare bravery
for the roar.
(Muse – Jean-Paul Sartre)
Tossing the pebble of pain
aside
I drown in the gathering wave
like a floating womb.
The neural workers went on a strike
as soon as
I ate nautical emptiness
with the fellow reefs
and the kelp forests.
The heights of eros were
as raw as the Bull shark
as down as the trenches
as up as the ridges.
Fat seagulls chasing
the Juve fish
with a banality of evil
and the blue whales
whistling the winds
with their blowholes
while cleaning up
the food chains.
And the national geographic
diver is cruising through
the salty waters
with a dry lens.
— Drunken Monk
Failures stabbed the forwards
Fears hummed the failures
Doubts rhymed the fifty-fifty
Pestilence buried the persistence.
Yet
The smile
The shine
The mile
went on.
That’s how
you climb
your way.
(Observations)
Grief struck like a classy arrow hitting the bullseye,
it warranted a visit to the Arab girl,
yes, I was hoping to hack the hap.
it was a sultry Sunday,
Apollo, in his casual cruelties,
embracing the ecstasy of the earth.
anyway,
oh — it’s you again,
said the seer,
in her stained eyes.
did the stars shine right?
was the question,
only to show the pain brightly,
was the response.
_____________________________________________
Johnny, only pain’s pilgrimage is pure,
try, not treading it with tears.
said the seer.
In a husky voice,
I spoke —
I crossed the sun, the moon,
summer, and the winter,
day and the night,
ebb and the flows,
mountains and the valleys,
in rectitude.
regardless,
the clocks did not move,
the stars never aligned to pacify,
the dreams are half-eaten and half-rusted,
the roads not taken, too ended in dead-ends,
the heart was never stretched,
the lungs never loosened,
and the breath still heavy and hectic.
____________________________________________
Look,
said the seer,
all stories die in the end,
even the sad ones,
especially, them, said the old kitten around her.
your clouds are heavy,
yes,
but, soon they shall wet the marshes.
ha,
the roads,
every highway shall meet a crossroad,
you are supposed to enjoy the drive,
not count the miles along the path.
now,
put that god damn smile,
and take a breath.
____________________________________________
well, that sanitized my soul,
I thought —
and took the up-road,
cycling across the un-lit streets,
whistling and eating the emptiness of winds.
____________________________________________
(Playing with the fates)
Asleep under a long hat
with weedy wind
and pointed shadows.
I have a fear
of the un-fallen fruit
and of the still snail
beneath the hammock.
My hair and beard
driving with the breeze
without a final direction
going north-south-east-west.
Wait!
The tree is trembling
The Chameleon dissembling
The bees bumbling
The ants assembling
The river meddling
The insects troubling
The child babbling
And I was settling
into the nap
La La La La
La La La La
La La La La
…………
The photons went off
and darktons came in.
Like a blind prince of Persia
I searched for the old fuel
in the sands of the neoteric world.
From the wax light
came so many
shadowy creatures
and a lot of umbrae, penumbra.
In a trice, I was remembering
the 18th-century four-horsemen —
Pestilence, war, famine and death
and other such sins of that world.
How the other gender
was a dark matter —
so out of touch with light.
How poor were the poets
as they could not employ
their quills on the bed.
Everyone goes to
night mode
when the sun kicks the bucket.
When the light came in
I realised what
light means —
A whole new world,
A restored world,
and a more humane world.
Fear
/has/ become the new religion
No
not the comfy opium
that cancels away the sweet prisons.
Jiddu Krishnamurti
says
that
this microbe
is a merely a product of
thought-time natak.(Drama)
Whatever
wherever
the origin might be
Fear /has/ become
the new school anthem.
/has/ become the pimple
on the face of freedom.
None dares to be a solider now
none dares to gamble their away now
none dares to be a fakir now.
Dear stranger
count the guns
and the guts of the dungeon
we shall break the bars.
-Lit the nerves.
(#)
I too had a
living body
once or twice or thrice
but then
came an accident or incident or coincident
that took the breath
away
away
away
different types
of rearranging fates
to live again
again
again
but then
the pain
or the bane
always came
to rain
no one to blame
amen.
Sunset — hoped eyes
woke up like a spilt secret
in a state of skepticism.
Barefooted
I walked on the rotten time
and sang with the biscuit-ed moods.
Alexaaaaaaaa!!!!
Play “Beats of life”
The Athenian cat
did what he does —
ignore the petty mortals.
Nazi birds on the poles
were thinking without a Bannister.
With stooped shoulders,
Poetic pajamas and
Marxist beard
I serviced the civilization
by reading news headlines.
Milked the pen
to give caffeinated thoughts
did the moonwalk part
Yet
( — )
Next time
I’ll try clean-shaven.
There’s no gap from moment to moment for us
Is that why we all walk someone’s path
doing the greatest of all sins.
Man is a homo-ego-sapiens.
yet he doesn’t follow his ego-compass.
Dogs chase their tails.
they honor what is theirs.
Man
the child of freedom and adam
cannot swim an inch
in his own karma-pool.
Why do sirens go off?
Why does one become a cautious grandpa?
Why does one become a scary movie ghost
when all you do is follow your own smell?
Is fear
that vintage vinyl record
cawing at you?
that belly butterfly
going wild? becoming
a bad brainchild?
Is that your answer?
The answer is not for sale
dear.
Thy Vox 