Cat and a story

yet again-
i never understood how a cat scratches its way up the tree
whats in those nails that i lack
an expectation
and the reason i had carried it
as myself
or to live wrong in a story
every bark i had fallen from
was seemingly a grounded tree
heights viewing me
steeping me back from as far as i climb
time spending itself
natures pulling its way
to slide me down
this i can do
fall off deep
and not mourn the cat
from the young to old
how obvious can the message be
parked and moving
in a journey to nowhere.



It is a dirty case of cleaned glasses
aged with the eyes which saw through
to see dust sitting on the window
where crows were cawing until the flesh loosens
and legs spread
we come down to heights
philosophy lost to the likes
surrendering to monotony of mutual rights.

the air comes between us and space
when we recreate ourselves
and our rusty past
it shakes the distance
we covered to last
we create from sun and feed it to moon
our dreams to our youth
once more lot of ground to cover
lot to ignore
glassened hardened fastened
our eyes to our shattered core.

Gods Dark Plot

Dont look at me like that

I am not alone

I have a man and a home

I was just born this way

With a burdened soul

And a heart with solitude as a hole

The warmth doesn’t belong to me

And cold doesn’t make me feel right

I dont like love and lust is too tight

I wriggle in all the emotions but exhibit none

I fathom the mysteries and yet create some

So what do I do with this soul

Calm, composed and so old

I burden it with my writing goals

When with people I am the crowd

I am calm but my mind shouts

It doesnt find sense or

It finds it a lot 

We are writers

We are God’s dark plot.

Digital diarrhea

You can scoop in so many hidden ways

Yet you choose to show

With starred gluttony for life

They get in a row

Ignoring reality around them

They think through internet they know

About your lives your ways and will

Too tamed to be them

The reality in real changes

And everyone is then the same

The unedited versions now dont remain

The winged souls are clipped online

The stories are a few 

Shortened, lengthened, misconcieved, made anew 

With the posts minds of gullibles sway

The real people poop themselves away

In all the chaos internet diarrhea stays