Of Relentless Birds, Flatulent Jokers and of Aces of Spades

There are people who refuse to accept you the way you are

People who sit still and sombre like scary huge statutes

With their scarier and huger shadows looming over the world

you inhabit, the world where you eat and drink and shit and fart and fuck and talk and laugh and cry.

They observe you.

And they wait for you to make your first slip,

which, mind you, has to be one in THEIR eyes.

And once you fail them, they will hack your guts out with their machetes

And walk away in disgust, leaving you in your gooey mess with fresh blood and flesh all around

Beware of them – they are the judges among us.

All of this is fine, but the real shit begins when your sense of what is right and wrong

differs from theirs.

And the worst shit is when you see someone close to you

becoming one of them

because the transition between anger and grief is a bitter one

and the one between grief and void is terrible.

...............................................................

Change amazes me

Everything changes

People, love, hatred, expressions of love and hatred,

dreamlands, ambitions, faces, masks, the colour of the sky, the way one feels et cetera et cetera

obviously, it’s pointless to list all the things that change.

there’s a part of me that loves all the change

but then there’s another that sucks at dealing with so much change

it’s easier to see a flower wilt i guess

and when that part of me that

refuses to accept all this change hits out against

the changing order

it strikes back, and badly so.

Meanwhile, the other part of me breaks into a sinister smile

and the sun rises like it had risen yesterday.

......................................................................................

i am not an animal

so i get hurt at times.

i am obnoxious and pretentious

So i pretend that i am not hurt

and i keep on walking

i am not a machine

so i get tired at times

but my poise is too precious to me

so i pose as the tireless one

and i keep on walking

i am not perfect

so i misunderstand and i get misunderstood at times

but i love my ego way too much to allow it to wield

so i let it kiss my ass and assure me that nothing is wrong

and i keep on walking

i am not a great poet

so i write for catharsis at times

but i have told myself of my poetic glory so often that i believe that i am a great poet

so i fake detachment from the words as i write

and i keep on writing.

............................................................

And a few hours before daybreak the entire neighbourhood woke up to the deafening siren-sound of the ambulance

Before long the police arrived

And then the media

And then politicians

And so on

And so on.

The story spread like wildfire

Even the horses he used to bet on, the cards he used to play, the mugs he used to drink his beer from got to know of his tragedy from the other bettors, players and drunkards.

Earlier that night

The policeman who had investigated him was fucking his girl as their cat purred by their bed

The doctor who had operated on him was fucking his girl as their cat curled up at its rug

The reporter who had covered his story was fucking his girl as their cat crawled out of their room

The politician who had assured his neighbours that everything was alright was fucking his girl as their cat stared stoically at the fireplace

Meanwhile, at the kitchen-floor of his apartment, he was writhing in a pool of blood

His girl and their cat were lying at the bed with their stomachs, guts, intestines and uteri ripped out

And at the kitchen-sink lay a bloodstained knife and a pair of freshly cut balls.

And the next night

The horses slept at their stables

The cards rested at the tables of their owners

The mugs lay dry and upside down at the shelves of the bars

And the policeman, the doctor, the reporter, the politician and their respective cats did what they had done the night before.

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