My friend,
let me find you again,
in the broken links of your wired past.
we all were sinking in that age of glory,
and it’s ok if all your pieces didn’t last.
it is the 30’s now,
you know what you shouldn’t do,
let me just take back the fears from you,
don’t be whole – preserve yourself,
but let the sceptiscm of those first mistakes pass,
keep the lessons,
but don’t let the punishments last,
let me find you again in the familiarities of our masks,
let me look at you,
via your heart,
past through the troubles of this world,
where you learned to keep faces as an art.
Monthly Archives: February 2017
Reminiscence
A sweet story
travels its own reminiscence
as how it was told
in times of plenty
when the dwelling pond didn’t dry up
in the times passed filling it again
the little creatures of all forms
lived in the suspense
of failure or success
thomping on weak ones
burying them through distress
for urgency to be whole
that was why the story
was not sweet when retold
a lot of sweet bits
in its reminiscence
did not hold.
Meme evenings
neural efficacy it dictates
carving replicating transcending
subatomic space of the peripherals where
it was killed, alive again
dusted by hands of now a celibate brain
niching into the broken links
of surviving neurons
to expose hide reside in a scarred alley
trying to invade again
breaking open the bubbled spaces
you. yet again a meme of everything perfect
I. an uninspired host.
Valentines Special
It is a dress
you wrap your fun
and bring it down
it sits on the curb
and you are skeptic
you see a clown
in the middle of nowhere
it has been a while
you turn around
another year futile
but you like the sound
as the rats who died
looking for cheese
were as gullible
as those who didn’t
and when chasing their trail
cheese followed with the cage
how a lost love
makes a comeback case
the hungry rats again miss the details
another year to yearn
for the ship that always sails..
Changing
I am painting you a picture
on the canvas of your eyes
what you see is relative
and depends on your insight
like when night tells dawn
I am too a
morning to few life formsthey who can see will change their colours
those who saw black and white
still how do you rush when you are viscous
and how do you flow when you are rigid
but you will and think about the
underperformance of everything else
inside all of us we ourselves dwell.
this way The mundane project of me
keeps getting more and more pointless
in my own stoic face I am baseless
the vision that I will anyways create
amass project reiterate
is just a changing proposal of my past
when digged to the core of anything
everything lasts.
Thought: most changes are selfpreservatory in nature without our realizing it and even if we do realize that we need the change, we also crave for an acceptance of our negatives or worse we stop caring. How legit is the change then? sometimes us ourselves being unaware of the real depth of it.