explosion

Thursday, April 29, 2010
‘what have you been doing?’
Been blowing up the city
under the clear lite sky
making powerful explosion
to generate electricity
and to keep the wintered metropolis,
warm before the white falls.
The snow can’t touch the ground
it’ll melt into summer rain
The forecast is done & wrong
turning blind to the blue
or to sound outside the city.
the city burns again!
that’s what I’ve been doing again.
no winter too cold
no summer too warm
snow melted when it came
that’s what I’ve been doing again.
As white as ghost
I took a trip to outer space
Was a man on the moon
Sparks and explosion filled
The cosmic jacuzzi I was in
That’s what I did again.

bohemian song

Tuesday, April 27, 2010
I can see a huge grin on the clouds
But they are dancing in my eyes
I wouldn’t call myself blind
If you don’t see the world as I do.

Bohemian colored pencils giggle nonstop
Even the bumps on the walls laughs
I’m told they don’t have power to stir
But how did this ever happen?

The restless child has come to visit
I know she won’t stay too long
I’m too stubborn to heed to her notion
But she comes in this blissful hour.

Am moving free to the summer winds
Like the breeze through the leaves and the trees
For a moment I’m free and I sway
To the air that’s more powerful than me.

Watching the world just the way it is
There’s nothing there to change
Through all the imperfection and disease
The bohemian sun makes it the other way.

bottled bubble

Sunday, April 25, 2010
Round and round
make a circle
catch the tail
catch its end.

Take an embrace
it'll be alright
wish me there
so i can make the run.

Stop me a while
fool me blind
make me fall
i'll take this road.

Hear this sound
feel this beat
not of this world
an unheard fiction.

Bottled and canned
rush onto the head
take this escape
make me soar.

It’s just a phase
dyin’ slow
in a clear blue light
we'll celebrate.

stories untold

Met an old woman through the boulevard
she complains the world changes.
she tells me of the glory she embraced,
the music, when it sounded better,
the people, when they had little complain.
ah! She longs for those ‘good old days’
she says, that the music sounds strange
and even the weather, she complains
a mind that’s been left far behind
though her body dragged her here
its all the same
through black, green and the blue.

A man’s war is never ending
no one heeds to one last warning
the mighty hole in the sky inflates
look! my neighbour bought his sixth car.
Calculate and congratulate us,
with sights we see
and the new gadget in hand.
Everyone is desperately selling somethin’
Channel five, advertises a new religion
the painted wind pushes and makes me fall
Awing to the electronic black box
Popcorn in my hands and a remote control
But it’s not me, my own president.
whisking black box!
Tomorrow, I say I’ll live my own verve
The idea living in a spider's den
at the back of my cranium,
to shun being trapped and pleasing.

The past will repeat like a layer
one man! master of million slaves
sells himself for million more agreement
No! he wont stop until all head nods.
Jailing and a new law in-print
No! he just wont’ stop until all is one.
But God or is it our own mother
that created us with such love and compassion
She cried when she though of morrow
So she prayed for the infant
Ah! A mother’s heart is the Blue
So we age, ill and become anew.

Trapped in every new love affair
She thinks life is an unending tease
The race started in an elementary school
The chalk dust and the powdered hand
Even after a quarter of her life spent
the constant calls for trial never ends,
This entire taunt must be a preparation?
She thinks, somethin’ strange will clout
through her smugness and comprehension
Silently its rather the hammer she’ll hit.

Miles from here, friends walk
A boy living a month back
A woman’s love holds such power
Like a drug, he must see her again
Like a puzzle, in confusion maze
Freedom! or a new born cage
Please brace yourself now.

Beneath us,
lives, yet another story,
unseen and presumed insignificant.
It started and ends twice a day
and so I should be careful while I walk
though I can’t ban metals running on these streets,
patiently contemplating,
the giant green street signs!

Procrastinate

Monday, April 19, 2010
Beat and bruised,
tanned under the sun
weathered as the season alter
starting a process backward
going back to the earth once again
ashes and dust blown to the zephyr.
What was then a mold
now a part of nothingness.
It’s not something new and deifying
but always in a view.
There it stands, Provoking
demanding a change
asking me to take a detour
but I won’t budge or be moved
stoned and stiff like a mountain.
Please make a mend,
a quarter of life spent.
Snap! You feel you were born again
so you didn’t realize it then
and its too early to begin
back to the circle; clipped and chained
you’ll give yourself yet another day
and finally comprehend
your body is no longer your friend.

wicked norm

Inchoate a savage race
Run since the terrain investiture
Repeated with style and grace
A different beginning for each
But the claim is always the same,
'Ours is a different story'
so they live a happy ever after
or a tragedy ensue the blissful,
the twist and turn of scalene life
'be a member' is advertised.’
I wish 'social pressure' had a bottom
It’ll be satisfying to kick it.
Ferocious glitch saunter pretending
A happy member to the society
Is there any different life lived?
Atypical soul odd and cloaked
I want to learn their triads,
Sleeping in a monster such as me
Television invites to an ephemeral glee
There’s no page turned with meaning
An understanding will put an end
The stentorian self-destruction back to sleep.

the first

Tuesday, April 13, 2010
‘hello there’, twirling dirt on the floor
am I blushing again?
Damn! I wish this didn’t happen.
Bit my lips, I swear again
Here, feel this fever
Awe your hand cool as winter
Burns on the skin of my hand
My temple burns like the stove
My face could fry you froth
I think I should sprint
Alas, my feet are bond
What superglue
What strange numbness
Nerves, blood rushing
through and through
million eyeballs
blank countenance
dodgy peace
no people, there’s nothing here
It’s hard to imagine you naked
that’s my friend’s advise
I can’t toddle or lope
My foot won’t budge or move
To save me from this discomfiture
I think it’s a fairyland
I think it’s a fairytale
I shouldn’t have laughed
I should have held my laughter
when the emperor walked naked.

Uninspired

My head is numb
I’m becoming dumb
No words will come
Oh! What have I become?
See these empty sheets
I’ve been gazing at it for hours
But my pen won’t write
my thoughts might have run dry
Now there was a time
When even a wispier got me inspired
Or even the nothing of nothingness
Now the wind will blow
And the whole town will be wrapped in hurricane
But my sheet will stay empty
I can’t write as I wrote
I hate this state
I wish to be inspired
And the ink to flow
But it’s clogged and jammed
My pen just won’t budge

The twirl

The twirl of infinite loop
Waits for the ink to exhaust
Its no good waiting
Its no good runnin’ a chase
The bright red and the blue
has humor to fad away
Out of all attention
you’ll find more than yourself
a piece not attended these days
cause you’ve been runnin’ a wild chase
your heart, a spider’s den
But you’re a superhuman
a part of you absolutely flawless
Its power, compelling
like an assiduous artist
can alter all your qualms to glee
loosen up and take your time,
maybe the pieces will fall together
but does it really matter?
cause its not as real as we preserve
Its not good waiting
Its no good runnin’ a chase.

snow fall

Something that defines the cold winter
white flakes of soft cotton balls
falling but taking its time,
to sway and makes its way on the floor.
An artist wait is over and worthy
fraught for an inspiration,
now he can take out the dusted canvas.
Another player of words and letters
gather his thoughts on a secret sheet,
to write what he feels inside,
his pen, a secret arsenalpriceless,
ageless like a symphony.
The white flakes continues to fall
maybe this will last a day
a white blanket hover the dusted town,
million activity on halt again,
staying warm within their comfort zone.
An artist swings at his achievement,
myriad color appear over the dusted canvas.
Countless words fall into a verse
ready to be sung in cold winter night.

to belong

Its easy to swindle myself
would rather be somewhere else
No! this isn’t where I belong
Screaming vacantly to the echo
making merry without explanation
smiles and laugher hoard the air
under a foreign smog and blaze
its all an empty prove
No! this isn’t where I belong
would rather watch the space blanket
but I’ll wait a million hours
just to see the first glow
i feel nothing belongs
its all an empty show
you think you’re genuine
nothin’ but an incarcerated bird
trapped inside your own body
i wonder how we’ll fight this freedom
growin’ old to virus and demise
tryin to make sense out of life
but I still don’t recognize how
I’ve forgotten to darn and create
there’s no glow on my visage
it reads like a blank page
No! this isn’t where I belong.

break through

Sunday, April 4, 2010
Vexed by the ways of the world
consigned myself within four walls
mystic vision of many hued rainbows
flashed across my trouble mind.

Whether it was, I do not know
human ennui or divine providence
my thoughts no longer sluggish flowed
my thoughts did somehow sour.

It wondered to the forest beyond
amidst the birdsong tranquility
the zest of multifaceted life
encompassed within minds’ eye.

The sky sapphire, emerald earth
the river frothing diamonds
in the face of unremitting beauty
my despair and pain did fade.

To be lost in ecstasy of reverie
such, the self healing mind
to be captive to imagination
such, the strength of void.

To give colour to the grey daub world
such the power of compassion, love
to give form, shape to deep emotion
such, the endowment of words.

final imprint

An alteration that cast everything to the past
that every phase of shadowy distress
tangled and always cloy, us moving on
there’s hope yet stubborn pride
not casting my anchor on this ground.
Maturer eye, trustful breast of beast
learning through what I’m born to bear.
A glad comforter resting in my head,
she soothes me in grief I know
bracing me when I feel low.
Constant phase of feign felicity
moves on without looking this way
but I wait like the other day
for bliss and cherished rest to lodge.
Maybe I should pervade and brood above
the daily coil of life once lived.
Conceive, dissolve, change and rear
an original to be born again
New chapter to write, a new disposition imprints
here here to make a better memory
a wiser eye sees the world ahead.

slumber song

Million ambassador of mornin light
taking care of the dark dispelled room
Uncombed hair, unwashed face
lookin' underneath the warm sheets
there's no better place to be
nor an occupation to end this slumber
Every straight road meander
So rest a while, stop a minute
gather the scattered thoughts in your head
Rest and fall back to slumber.