Caught
again and rising
In the
communion of steel
Once again,
these four walls
And these
ten fingers
Stank up by
compulsions of endurance
Fouled by
litmus-sour lies
The same
rain-clouds
The same
trams
The same
guards
The same
sets of betrayal and honesty
And then it’s
time for the hounds
To tear
through the night
The best
part of this play
That makes
supermen out of clay
is where
the clown gets butchered.
And the butcher
gets clowned.
….
Dainty whores
with pastry-flesh
Birds fly
all night
Come all
voluptuaries of these times
These are
not very happy times
These are
the right times to lose and never regain
Birds lost
in motherly arms
Birds lost
in neural decay
Monsters smiling
through glasswalls of love
Cold train
passes by.
Everyone smiling,
dancing
Everyone happy.
Lyotard
didn’t expect this.
Pygmies
from paperback dreams
Breach
weary horizon.
……..
The problem
with electro-social expression
Is that everyone
seems intent of serving their shit
In a
platter to the world, and everyone
is convinced
of their genius. And all these self declared
masterpieces
are so similar to one another
that it’s
rather tiring. Mass production of porn has killed
our libido.
It’s poetry’s turn next.
…..
The landscapes
we inherit in the market-places
of mind
decay
through over-use and symbols,
war and
litigation,
famines,
infamy
as death-birds
peep through keyholes of fogged heart
and
life-birds await the sun
and the
in-between birds rage against the vile debauchery
that
surround our purest inheritance of lusty cognition.
And on and
on mad elephants dance in rain
Till all is
silent and bells stop ringing inside brain
And the
much voodooed charm leaps out
and hovers
over the fiery tip of midnight
for the
reptiles of love and of hate to wake up
and slither
towards open spaces that never were.
….
In beginning
it began
And then
the wind got stronger
And darker
And love
was bitter
We drank
from the river
The river
flooded
We sailed
the seven seas
We followed
the seven stars
We discovered,
invented and constructed
gods and
cities and vitamins and towels
All was
good
All was bad
In the end
it will end
And the
wind won’t get any stronger.
…
I entered
this very strange room
There were
50 little people and 50 little houses in there
And there
was a filthy old man lying on the floor
And pissing
at the roof that had paintings of splendid naked virgins
He winked
at me and said
“society
won’t notice”
It seemed
fun.
Soon, I could
see tiny helicopters flying all over the place
And there
was some music too.
I was there
for a long long time
And then I was
bored
So I got up
and walked towards the exit door at the other side
As I turned
the knob, I could hear groaning and moaning behind me
Soon it
turned into a shrieking lament so sharp that it pierced
my guts. There
was no sunlight, and as I turned back I saw the old man has vanishd
And all the
houses, people, choppers melting like chocolate in heat
I opened
the exit door. The room was at the edge of a cliff.
…
Ice-cream
van of pain, slugging past weary twilight
Dark flowers
abloom
Caves caving
in
Soon, all
paths shall be gutted
And grave catastrophe
shall dump down like sludge
on our
hunchbacked lives.
Ice-cream
van of pain brings this sad news
And has
been condemned by tyranny and attrition
to crawl
away and move apart
You, who is
beyond all shadow
And keep
the hangman away from the noose
And the
noose from the neck
And the
lion from the flesh
Please do
something about this.
…
Pick up a
sparrow-song from the cesspool
Pick up a
pickaxe from the carnival wagon.
There’s no
surrender
Heart shall
fight machine
Till one or
both are dead.
…
O meat of
love pure and true
O meat of
love I yearn for you
Delighted,
pigeons fly.
O meat of
love in the sky
O meat of
love o regal pound
O meat of
love o profound
Smooth swans
afloat.
Meat of
love in feather-coat
…
Superman-story
isn’t finished yet
I dragged
by one sixty odd pound corpse out
And the
skies were thawing in frenzied chaos
I get bored
easily
And it’s
not my fault that the world is
The most
boring of all prisons
Half-crazed
children of the moon
Are suddenly
very happy
And pure
souls that smell like freedom
Are being
pawned off to meet interests
That pile
of the debt of sanity
As tax,
toll, fee, rent and other charges
This duress
is amazing
Even the
flies are getting repulsed by shit
And are
settling for and on air-conditioned popcorns instead
Mom, why did
you let Dad screw you?
Did you moan
and shiver when he was crushing your petite body
against his
demonic frame?
Were both
of your sweating like a brutal dog-and-bitch pair?
Did you
wrap your legs around his waist while he was pumping his wrath inside you?
I will kill
him for this.
Superman-story
isn’t finished yet.
….
I look at
stars tumbling down the turmoil of cosmos
I look at
the grand silence looming outside my window
Even the
cockroaches are placid sometimes
And the
earth makes no sound and shows no light
Sadness and
solitude like twin archangels sitting atop the tallest minaret
of the
world from where everything can be seen and heard
They know
of every light that’s put out
I’m sure
they can see me to
I’ll be sad
and lonely without them.
And in the
silent bar-room full of strangers – all are
staring at
me.
I can be a
killer,
I can be a
lover
Or I can be
both.
…
Being born into this world of ill-conceived erotica
ill-timed humour and ill-bred sanctity
is the ultimate price we pay to exist
the load gets heavy with time and more of the same shit
is injected. Look where we live. It’s a fortress of strict accountability
being guarded by wild beings. And new guards are reinforced every day
some people jump out of windows
some go insane
some go insane and jump out of windows
and the rest gets numb.
Exceptions do exist – those who plan ways and means of escape
But they keep disappearing in the strangest of manners
And no one gets to know
what happened to them.
And through these little games of love and shit we’re taught
To play to keep ourselves busy and
To keep ourselves from going crazy or suicidal with boredom or
getting the idea of resistance.
It’s a lousy joke that’s being played over and over
The irony being that we had designed this whole thing ourselves
because we had nothing else to do
other than fucking and dying.
….
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