She does reflect
She does take form
She hath no surfaces
She seems to have no sides
She is a rock betwixt all rocks
She failed to fly when she is sky
She is surely for all purpose; chameleon
She is without a doubt him, in the light of day
He is milo
He took a pill
He became Maria
He remains unaltered
He hates all just to love you
He cuts himself for every laugh
He is surely for all purpose; chameleon
He is everyone of them in the dark of night
They embrace as
They strangle you
They are legless dancers
They are hippies with guns
They are single fingered painters
They are artists with petrol bombs
They are surely for all purpose; chameleon
They are all me, for measureless time and again
Bird pessimistic alight in nest warm
Seeks solace from swarm
Takes freedom in own constitution to wallow
Cornered in window shallow
Genetic constitution dictates to fly
Vertigo kicks in thirty-six feet high
Ceding the zeal years ago
When once crashed in
Content never set in
God creates equal,
that is what i last heard.
The world dead in its sequel;
Le colt you sick bastard.
Catalyzing intimidation the world mastered.
Inclination with pop music we plastered.
Broken orphans stand on the horizon;
Senate seats only the guilty wizen.
Prickly red Afro, all wet and grim,
his abhor once raw now ripen.
The space within his face with vex to brim;
his love now tastes of poison.
Taller than tower of Paris,
she whispers a hymn politically corrected.
Swaying as the sand gently caress,
she maims this empire resurrected.
The hymn, in time, will get interrupted;
For this organized system itself is corrupted.
Across the globe, nothing ever does vary;
Lone men, on missions, with them hate they carry.
We wandered the boiling streets of Mumbai with brows all wet with sweat; as our feet brushed the gravel making sounds of rain. I sat under the shade of the young, empty, naked tenement while you, stubborn as always, stood in front of me.
You sat beside me; we flicked the sweat off our foreheads with our thumbs in unison and chuckled as empty eyes and melancholy silence prefaced the conversation that will never happen.
I moved my fingers along the cylindrical outline of my breast pocket, removed the cigarette within and placing it in the corner of my lips; I lit and inhaled in broken breaths. As the sad, pathetic smoke lumped up in my throat; I exhaled in rhythm of an old motorcycle.
You fiddled with sticks and pebbles on ground and picking them up, threw them in the street and did it again, and again, and then again; as if in competition with yourself.
Oh, how you get on my nerves without saying a word you beautiful creature, you devil in smooth disguise. The cigarette passed between us puffing once or twice and back to me; and then, to you; and then, back to me again. Quite possibly, the only thing we did or could do together in tandem; in sweet tandem.
Funny little dog with nose flat
looked less a dog and more a rat.
Face wrinkled as that of an old man
every chance he got he bolted, he ran.
With big doe eyes round and wide
this little thief always looked so dignified.
In dreams, open fields he would leap
as he’d twitch his chubby legs in sleep.
Funny little dog whom early took fate
i bet he is now god’s favorite pet.
Do you have a purpose O righteous man ?
If not a purpose, do you have a plan ?
And if a plan is the thing that you got,
then does it ring true with you or your clan ?
And if the answer to that is your clan,
O then how strong is your faith in your lot ?
Are all the men around you just dancing ?
Then why are you so awkwardly prancing ?
Could it be that you just cannot dance ? or
is it because you are drained from ranting ?
And if the answer to that is ranting,
do you believe you have a reason for ?
Think back and reminisce on childhood days.
I bet it all and say you weren’t always
the man you are today, its just not you.
The wrinkles on your forehead and your face
don’t let them be permanent, but a phase.
Shed that though skin and let your dreams renew.
As i place both body and mind
in place i ever do
the tinging wind find
both impinging the two.
And the faux wind through ceiling
takes form on paper revealing.
A motley of thoughts gruesome and ghastly
a true testament of sorrow.
Then from body did mind steadfastly
some relief did borrow.
Mind’s essay to Eden transfixed
and shadow, salve to Nyx, with darkness affixed.
Then inevitable climax of every era
as mind now blur.
From prison released me daughter Hemera
and sapped my body of color.
Every essay of body at bluff futile.
Just the wanton’s delight, slaves in exile.
Then Gaia awakes from slumber
as i lie drained, dull and blind.
In ease as i cease my labor
birthing one of a kind.
Cursorily i, rest and revel in
the grim and haunting glory of my kin.
Energies of the unfathomable cosmos exist in the abyss of nothingness.
I exist in this abyss and you exist in this abyss.
you and i are fathomable.
you and i are something.
Something to hear.
Something to see.
Something to Love.
Something to fear.
It is natural and unnatural to make such distinctions for it is the command of the mind.
Mind and soul are in ever-lasting discord.
Soul commands that everything was, is and will be nothingness and any distinction would be futile.
Once at peace with both we realise we are borrowed existence and then we will,
Hear the truth.
Regardless, the ultimate truth remains that, every existence will cease to for the end is inevitable but surely it must not be immortal as this cessation of existence will cease as well.
In a hand he wielded a sword, a sword of gold and sapphire .
In another he grasped a shield, a shield drenched in flames and fire.
Hacking and slashing his way through an army of zombies and ghouls.
He came unto an enchanted forest infested with living dead wolves.
As he rested taking a breath, a breath this brave bladen.
Glazing upon a cobble well saw an angel, a fair maiden.
The angel inquired, feeling the knight’s despair ,of his quest.
Burned alive by he beast were his unborn child and wife dearest.
Plunging herself in well bid him farewell the angel of avenge.
But not before she warned the knight of his shallow revenge.
Thunders screeched across heavens, devouring combustion filled the air.
All creatures fled the scene, our warrior hero nay budged a hair.
With eyes as that of a demon and his amor weak and frail.
He slid his vengeful sword through the mighty beast’s grail.
Upon returning victorious the crib sits silent just as before.
He roams the streets at night piecing his heart back together,
whore after whore.
India is the salt that adds flavour to the world
Makes it sweet for it is sugar as well
India is diverse
Is every religion
Is every ethnicity
Is every language
Is every culture
India is equality
India is vegetarian
Respectful and humane when not
India is the cow whose milk is golden
This golden milk is paint and painting the galaxy
India is a priest.
This priest is humble and his purpose is pure, as pure as Ganga
India is a missionary whose mission is peace and love
He stays still and patient and waits for the truth to be revealed
And it will be revealed
India is a mother
Her cradle is warm
We are no longer infants
But her love is eternal and greatest of all
India is a woman
This woman is educated
This woman is beautiful
This woman is strong
This woman is powerful
This woman is independent
This woman is all women
India is a sword forged of titanium
This titanium is blood and sweat of oppressed millions
So this sword is blunt for greed
But this sword is sharpest against injustice
India is a diamond.
This diamond is raw and imperfect.
But this diamond is one of a kind
For this diamond is