Let that sink in

Once you know why you felt what you felt

Let that sink in

Let it remind you not to ever remind you

Of grass that remains dry even with,

grasshoppers willing to give up their name

so they can hop on roses tomorrow,

Like that’ll ever be!

It makes me think of

Legacies of few
that remain as undue
Compared to those
Who lived on hearts that tore
At the very thought of
Yet dependent
On the blink of an eye
Of a figure of power
To give permission to breathe
To let them be

I wonder what this means
If liberty was at stake of just
Cries for eternities
Wishing for
Bread to bake in seconds
And for crumbles not to burn
For this
Disease of the heart to melt
Because ever since
People molded mud into art
And words into poetry
Riots began
Armies faded
Wars alike
Of the body with the soul
Of the senses with the thought
And the right with the left
Only gave way
To directionless nomads
Living in something as sweet or bitter
As the tear shed for longing
Or the one for reunion or departure

Die death!
Bury yourself
And don’t write your name on stoneheads
Be gone
For no one can afford to hang
Like broken branches of a tree
Don’t you see the weight still air carries?

It’s too heavy
And resistance for unthought burdens was petty
It’s as if
Bones were stiff
Denying this city
Was blasphemy
Yet I thought of it
As sacred
And tied my will against a neutral gray
To not fall and burn
In ice
Or drool amongst paper boats
Floating in a river
Made of blood and tar
To poison nervious wrecks
Still provoking devils
Though they needed none of their efforts

All your shelters
And your homes
Attract a thirsty, yet decaying sense of faith
Go be filled with
Whatever witness you can bring
And even your own breathing
The one you mastered meditating for a lifetime
Will suffocate
Will choke
You against your own will
Never did I know
That your fragrance would kill
What once revived for when things were real
Have you ever seen flowers grow on stones?
Have you ever felt the touch of rain in drought,
and for knives to brittle at the touch of your very skin?
Goosebumps like a cactus giving birth…


Walking on thin ice

Winter and summer went extinct

When they thought of what kept them thin

Spring might have been intensifying,

but it was as cruel as someone snatching away scent

from flowers that wanted to be sniffed

By some asthmatic old man, his last wish,

telling us

that he preferred dying from the pollen that already wanted him dead

He was dancing on delicate glass,

and then playing Frisbee with it’s leftovers

And the dumpster that was suddenly noticed

By flashlights


How pathetic fame was

No matter how much you try and freeze anger

it will erupt

and boil surfaces, already condensed.

It’s like trying to equate the numbers on an equation

One plus negative one


Never cancelling

One half only hunches to watch the rest keep a straight posture, boastful

Isn’t that ancient history?

Signs that seagulls and snitches have only found more careful ways

to control their wings with

How far apart are we

Yet feel like boomerangs in mid flight
Uncertain of whether they will ever come back

Uncertain whether it was even us, or something else

that swung them against the abominable breeze

that promised warmth,

but cracked ice instead.

It wasn’t the ice, you goof

Just put on different shoes

Go ice-skating

Just go, dammit, just walk.

Painting mirrors

And they tell you

That they could’ve broken you more

After they’ve broken you entirely


These cracks on the wall, I run my hands on

If concrete didn’t keep its promise,

How could glass?

I see myself in them, rough, inside out

See, I can relate to spiders crawling in, and then emerging hungry for a home


Bullets fired from a shotgun

Two inches away from you

And they still tell you

‘I would’ve fired more, if only I had more bullets’


I guess my fireworks

dug underground

And treated rabbits with a surprise

Guess they no longer need a show

they were the show themselves, taking over


Why tip a waiter?

They get from taxes anyways

The only difference you think you make,

comes from people watching, thinking you are someone

other than the someone they see everyday


The word itself is contradictory, ‘someone’


Just a part

Just a piece


Look at you,

painting mirrors orange

To show the world you carry ‘positive’ energy in you

Don’t tell them your favorite colour is different shades of gray and black


Some deep psychology shit,

give them a deadline to figure you out

Went away with dawn

Pieces of a puzzle
Form a newer picture
One I hadn’t known
By any mismatched chaos of my own

Sprinkled over ice-cream
Dentists leaving the plaque
Pulling out flawless teeth
Wisdom to stay

Together as separate beings
One about to snap
The other wanting to get hurt
For the pain let out a beast
Too great to feel weak

And the coconut can’t seem to fall
On our heads
Even on earthquakes
Beaches deemed mad?

What a travesty
To live like living is done
For one small move and its gone
Extremism too risky a truce

Naive lives
Clever, chameleons covered with themselves
Watching over, in 360 degree angles
Their fear, a camouflage
Their danger, joy or thirst,
The same

Victimizing the victims,

pitying the fools,

to make the weak weaker.

It’s like catcalling a bull towards

the centered red, bloodshed of your words

Zoned out, for when it was your turn
When you break someone, you break your own
Heart? Or bone
Fractures, or decaying ligaments

Between our sighs
In twilight
An owl speaks our secrets
And watches over pride

And the stars that wouldn’t let us see
The darkness beyond the nearest heaven
Dimmed and went to sleep
And we called that supernatural

Humans, predictable
Gravity to feel responsible
Although birds will flap their feathers at your face
And your feet will feel prejudice
Over the mud, after the rain
It didn’t wash away your guilt
Neither did it conquer
That edifice about to fall
Yet you look past the thrill
And get another glass of milk,

You were no whiskey material

And the sweets you keep in your pockets
For when acidity burns your chest
They only work as ekstasis
Itching substituted by tickles
What a mockery
Fools, geniuses, no-names, somebody’s, and then

the detached, solos.

Before you even get flashbacks of the cruelty you spread,

Your stuck parachute now opens, no-default

Your feet tiptoe in sand safe and sound
Your certainty, laid out in your palms
You believe now
You were just floating in doubt in mid air
But you’re a believer now

So predictable
What a waste
And yet, God loves you
He knew it all along
But gave you enough to plunge out

of your own misery by dawn.
Of your own misery by dawn.

Since 1973

You see, these walls we build

Are to separate purity from filth

Yet we,

Rose above them

And became beings without a name

Mixing white with black

And getting blood

Instead of an obvious gray


What a play

To live like there’s no tomorrow

It’s like wasting today

For an immediate future

You will never get


It’s like flooding a delicate crop

with juice, made out of it’s own nectar

Or to rip tailored clothes apart,

to get back to having cloth without a shape,

and run naked


What would you do? if every year you ‘lived’

shrank down to two: to settle or to possess

a mind that wasn’t thinking of you.

Faith, like ants feeding on crumbles of our leftovers

Ate us raw

We are cannibals, homicidal, cynical


Open up that newspaper, from 1973

And the year after

And the year after

Needless to say

Decades away

We were still a virus

Without a cure

And we have only evolved

To a more accepted form

Of hell


Funny, for you thought evil meant

listening to metal and getting tattoed above your neck

The darker a person seems the lighter ‘it’ becomes

Why tagline human beings as species

We are anything but beings

What heaven meant to me

They say heaven is to thee,
what God is to the angels.
What then is hell to me,
besides demons crawled beneath thy nations?

They ignite in my bones,
like clouds on the sky.
Like thorns on them roses
and resurrect among stones and bonsai.

They flow through me,
like wind beneath a bird’s wings.
Only directionless, repelling against sea.
Only hopeless, pulled apart by a dozen strings.

And I wonder what this may bring,
on behalf of beautiful things.
For you make me want to destroy what I had built,
only for the sake of unsatisfied guilt.


Upside down

Surrounded by all fours
To the mystery of howling wolves
See, I have a thing
For beings that aren’t afraid to mourn
Over mourning days
That mourn for a moon spread like sand by a million stars
What a cycle of
Beasts letting it all out
To forget why they scream
And only live by
All that’s kept within

So much beauty
Covered with filth
So much filth
Dusted, cleaned, polished!
What would it be like
To walk on clouds
And stare at our homes and people
As if they were street lights
Am I the only one that will cringe
At the thought of
Rain pouring from their eyes
And the rays of light to only(not)dim by subtle joy
What if our own bricks fall on our heads,
will we be reminded of our works?
What if the tallest buildings
Poke at the fog we walk through?
And pierce throats,
slitting animals in half
And us, in three quarters

Gardens that we reaped will regretfully
smile back, thankful, confused
And us, right back.
Only then, will the well full of wishes
Finally grant us the wishes we didn’t ask for
Worth going mad for

Have you ever been still, near a storm?
It licks the fake off, of every street
Bulldozing all the creeps
So it’s only you,
with the chaos that’s meant to be
Fastened to your waist
By anacondas that call themselves snakes
For their tongue was one
But spoke in lisps
It had two shades to it

Succumbing, diving deep
Like leech
And staying delusional
With one eye dreaming
The other closed
One ear listening
With the other in between ‘amor’

But I don’t know, who am I to talk. All I do is lean on walls, turn my head and look at the world upside down. What was I saying again? I need to type this down.