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

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Cage into your mouth

This rubber band, I mistook it for a


We poured white sugar instead of brown

in coffee already brewed

‘It tastes the same’

It’s like ice blocking fire, tough and strong

Until it gives up to the heat, weeping to bemoan

Another controversy between right and wrong

And the flames, they smile back, cynical

They creeped up and crawled along,

and we failed to decipher the movements of the withdrawn

Could you fit a cage into your mouth?

See what it is?

What is praise but a few exaggerated words?

What is this world but a constant state of hyperbole?

Sympathizing with my shame,

Here, take your consolation prize


It is just fumes laughing

yet crying


and with

smoldered leaves

in a bonfire

we lit a century ago

Mortified, like a skeleton

Wanting to vanish

Because even without life

It was still

labelled as

being a martyr

for flesh

The soul that had veered off course didn’t turn cold and bitter

Then why did you?

Wandering through history

A train going backwards, a swing raped by the air

Carrying false hope, rough tracks call for adventure

How can you know? You just do

How can you tell? It’s a mirror set to clear itself

A sequence of origami flying over your head

Making you believe paper was the real thing instead

One bald patch, does not indicate success

Neither does a tired spirit, or the desire to be somebody else

You’re a copy of a copy of a copy

Metamorphosing into the tertiary

Forgetting the primary, the prime, sublime.

I don’t hold my quill in hopes of,

sticking it back to the arse it detached from!

Neither do I wish to conquer it

For shedding its skin

Over my skin

Like a tint of paint in water

Certain thoughts outspread, and dissolve into what needs to melt

Never would I have known, that a city in ruins

Compared to a jigsaw, was far less confusing

A wise man once read the wonders of the world

By admitting that he wasn’t meant to be

Just another person wandering through history

Secrets don’t just unfold onto anyone…

Eyes wide open

Keep your eyes wide open

People indifferent to injustice

Should not plead against it

Gargling with salt water

Will fix your throat

But not your absurd speech, not your loaded tongue

Saving one life, saves the world entire

But killing oneself, is just killing yourself

A sack of pollen thrown at someone choking on asthma

Two vendors opposite each other sell their sport

Miser is he that collects the misery of the world

Like a coin permanently glued to the floor, fooling a tramp

An inferno built by the same hands that stroke a waxwing’s head

It wasn’t cleaning its beak, it was erasing your mistakes

It was sweeping off the dust from a hundred n’ fifty decks

Tell me again why I should paint my wall to cover a crack

School me again on how I need to watch my back

Damaged by arrangements between the sadistic and its fruitless well

Pull me up by the throat with a needle

Carve it in and pull it out

Take a pencil, show me how to spell my most intimate shout


Concrete dogmas are as fleeting as a bird
Whose nest is swept by the winds
Of a forelorn future

Dreams slain for peaceful sleep
Fingers tied for smoother handcuffs
Does it spoil the child, or does it make your job easier for you?

Streets ruptured for seeing the truth of someone, in between themselves
Feet stumbling, artists retreating into you
A cave, a stage, for blue men
A shaky voice had torn open a rift in the clouds


Attachment is a disease
Cure only imaginary. Left untouched and it may try
And think it wants the world to lick its final cry
Don’t know what’s worse, to devour or be devoured
To lose or to let lose,
To reign only to avenge the winners
Call it a reformatory for the wicked, brutal enough

Pen turns to spade

nakedness an armour repulsing prey

Reversing time
Is possible
For all you’ve built
From machines and back to repairing screws

I tamed a wild beast
But was still uneasy
Because I was worse
Than the already worst
The only consciousness I had, wasn’t on their behalf
But because of this simple thought
That if they could ruin the world just by being
So could I

Composing symphonies
Tapping sticks and mimicking

‌A tune I learnt since I was two

Tip, tap, tippitie tappity tip titip ti boo.


“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”

Abraham Lincoln

Maybe in a different paragraph of the same story

I’ll understand both sides, I’ll sympathize with the instrument being played

rather than the hands that are playing it.

Maybe I’ll interpret music, like a canto

from take one till take four

and applaud the musings in the music, and the

scattered parts of my brain lying on the floor.


Why can’t the effects of the mind and its working, let flow the faucet interrupted?

Everybody knows, explosions fantasize about the calm anyway.

Like the river ragin’ at the soil like a bull, not letting it create its own path,

New inventions and meanders heard erosion and took a stand.

What are these bonds we create but mere phantoms looking for ways to stay

Like the thread that keeps cloth woven, yet we thank our body for the warmth and not such day

Roam lost, you’re but a feather shed by an extinct bird, going with the wind.

Walk with me

The way you leave
Says more about you
Than from what you created in between

Like a kettle boiling water up its nose
It still manages to sing
Or the acrylics on your desk
That mixed well to re-create its steam

Or like the glass that came crashing down
For losing emotion over something you hadn’t done

Windows creaking
Birds laughing at our doors
This hierarchy
Doesn’t make sense


All this time I asked God to do something to change my life

He was waiting on me.

Sometimes a second wants to stretch to two
Sometimes a minute wants to shrink for someone asking who’

I guess
Everything paves a way
For you
To pave your own.