Tag: poets

From 6:03 pm
a temperature inversion
began in the heart-o-sphere.

At 6:06 pm
I left the tribal island
of mine
full of tangled spiderwebs
and half-ass pencils.

6:07 pm — 
contacted the electrons
to give life to one-plus tv
and catch up the social realism
and reflect on my poor idealism
with begging eyes.

6:08 pm —
pressed the electronic peanuts
to catch the god frequencies
that can illuminate the wasted moods.

yet
yet
yet
nothing comes close
to the good old
sun, air, and the musical silence of detox tea cups.

6:13 pm —
I resign and regret
with Joy Harjo’s
“How we became human.”

---

Like a London smog or
an Indie dog
the wilding heart began racing and musicking.

Thought
it was a virtual reality show. I guess
sometimes atoms of long dead people in me
take over.

There was no perfect map
to decode the movement of madness.
Time at times paralyses us. Just to
feel the blood ageing and caging.

I want to see the end of history
not of nations but of me.
to see whether the slave has salvation
in store at least after few chores.

My mind is god’s own county
with no bounty for me.

---

Three lambs and
two dreams got
shattered that day.

A dead hoarding with
bleeding lights
and a grandma wrinkles
was saying something but
who cares?

I was drumming with
the disasters and humming
with flames of youth
and games of Bluetooth.

The pen store owner
with a zen tummy
and a comet mood
was rearranging the shop.

I got little attention in the store
my mood
seeing that
evaporated or rather
stomped.

I know that gravity bends light and
sanity ends fight
but on that day it was shown that
profanity begins a dark night.

---

Earth in tectonic walking
Pigeons in paragliding
Ants in their pious pilgrimages.

Earphones arrested to
the solitary moods
and introvert chats
of urban-horses.

Station swelling
like a soda can
with time hungry zombies
and pre-mature chuck Taylor all stars.

Sapiens carrying philosopher stones
called iPhones
turning their lives
caged and combed
to baser chords of life.

trains move by
with their somber
easter songs
and carbon noises.

Far from the gaze of the sky
the de-oxygenated fishes
rush up to climb up
and take in the brown gases.

Bags glued to the
shoulder blades
or some anatomical stuff.

up-down
side-side
down-up
is the motion of civic legs
like a troubling tractor
in Smallville.

All rushing to spread
their sticky legs
like a lava
like a snooping state
or some Australorp rooster.

— Drunken escalator.

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