Rain Man

I will contradict myself in every way, to drive you in circles

and say these words, that mean nothing to me

Maybe I was wronged; flowers don’t grow from concrete

The hidden meanings, motivational phrases,

out of context.

 

So advanced, double-think, nervous laughter

Pedestrians; both figuratively and literally

Every step taken is supposed to leave blisters on feet this sore

Only the morally superior, will possibly observe dementia

as a two-way road to salvation

Just as the witness becomes the culprit

For not confessing

The day to day musings, suddenly fall to place

“I have plenty. Look, I can count as many fingers

as toes” said the ruler to his foes

“I’m left-handed, is that bad luck?” When a confident man becomes conceited

There’s no going back

“I… excuse me

sir

it wasn’t raining till you got here”

“Well, in that case,

umbrella for two?”

And just as I prayed for mud, the pavement was washed cleaned.

 

Journey

“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.

Pigments on skin

The pigments on our skin

Get to a point where

They absorb more than they let out

And this clogs our walls of exposure

This feeling of emptiness we try to fill

With disappointments we think we’ll turn around

And passive aggressively walk our storm

From the ones we use but love

And hate

This is a mirage

This reflection

It’s like a soul staring at its trapped being

How could you stare for hours contemplating your molded features?

Like tucking a kite to a chair and rocking it with inertia

Lately it’s been hard to reach

Consciousness

For it finds ways to hide

That too, professionally

It crawls onto corners we don’t want to visit

And so we don’t

And so it shrinks

To the point where it takes over its own demise

And leaves us vulnerable

Our own mind leaves us vulnerable

Our own thoughts want to flee

Stars turn to butter and slide down from their fixes

If they don’t belong in the blackness of the night

I wonder what does

Sooner or later

The moon will howl at wolves and tell them it’s all in vain

It’s like a splendid breaking of the dawn

Has anyone ever noticed

The rays of gold, and yet not so gold, that mark the mist?

How clouds welcome smoke, how fog greets the dust

How birds, raging with bitter truths, pause for a minute

Wanting to reach the sun,

Till they are reminded that flight doesn’t last

For as long as

Memories do

For the eyes see past the superficial

Let the blacksmith do what it was born for

Will ones intentions define what it sets out to be?

Balancing scales, by canceling either
Bliss triggering sin

Leaving its iron wrought

Wishing it were wood, with hopes

Of metamorphosing to the extremes of

Forgetting what it was

Before it was cut

Behind the bushes, where squirrels hide

Are peanuts falling from nowhere

That’s us behind castles

Trying to mend another brick on the wall

I don’t remember the last time

An atlas misguided a tourist on his quest

Then why does my radar’s needle

Point me to my escapes?

This heart, an unkind beast

Picking up the pieces

Yet, leaving your belongings

A beggar offering hand-stitched love

Like a mannequin pulling the threads itself

For a show

To his master

‘Keep thy word sworn to thyself’

For one broken rule, breaks them all

Purpose lost, is purpose found

We cut ourselves to make paper, it burns its ashes away

To lose trace of its worth

The ceiling closes in on me

As if I were trapped inside a jewel

And its mesmerizing reflection

Was that of my illusions

Bouncing on all fours

Explosions calmed

The more frayed, the more it shone

Till it blinded those getting close

Bewitching the ones that didn’t know

That

Not all that glitters is gold

Only I,

Can make it rain in my own drought

Alone

Not lonesome

Lonely

Or lone

Medieval era again

And the dragon slays its throat

For envisioning the future we would live in

The phoenix

Does not rise from the ashes it sprung onto

Instead

It decided to conquer the skies

With the good it shouldn’t have battled

Dreams spoke to their roots

And traded lives with fireworks

Up the horizon

At least they

Burnt down to their own reality

We had no reality to die for

Live for

Wish for

Or regret

The island for the forgotten

Contains all the thoughts suppressed

These are the inexplicable

Long silences

Even longer sighs

That revive with the rest

Where all the dust we blew, or wiped clean

Where all the laughs we shared, in our heads

Where all the burdens that were deaf, with all the feelings that couldn’t feel themselves

That’s why

The iris sharpens

When it sees it’s pray

Or why goosebumps, let us know

Of the callings of the instincts

To the seasons that promised wouldn’t change

You can emancipate yourself from dependency,

This way, be a tree without a seed

You wouldn’t have to blame

Naive seedlings

For investing in crops without a harvest

Of all the universe folded within your eyes

Or the one you create with graphite

To meet flesh with outlines

And color the sunset with your blood

Lead for me a path

With no return

The one I’m walking

Is making a fool out of me

For driving in circles

Through a squared entrance

Whoever invented time

Must’ve been real sick

Of not knowing

When to walk up, or when to walk away.

We are but empty bottles rattling with

Water

Begging

For a sip

Of the ocean

We neglected

When we were full

Peacocks lose their feathers

Their most important invasion of privacy

By ostriches

Digging their heads underground

And finding the secret music

To which these hypnotizing agents

Danced to, creating magnetic waves

That attracted

Both the poles

To whatever may

Without escape

Simple

Unapologetic

And yet

You want to keep parts of yourself

Like holding on to hot coal

And being happy

With burnt tattoos

That you give meaning to

Because you hate gaps

You want to know

Which degree required the lasting effect

Of your works

The smoke we filled our lungs with

Let us live

It thought

‘Why destroy someone, busy destroying itself’?

Such were loaded guns mistaken for words

From a tongue that spoke with lisps

Till it outgrew

Its silence

Such were the fates of men

Horses tied up

Picking dogs instead

Swords latched onto boats

Using arches instead

Risking the two steps

That ceased to let you think

Of more than

Eyes that saw the corners of your soul

And so my pockets, drew some holes
Accumulated coins, now kissed the floor

Because the burden of all I’ve wrecked

Now wanted to wreck me

Useless verbiage

And qualified vocabulary

Couldn’t mold my sapphire

Into silver

Now could it?

I painted my fingers white

And my eyes yellow

I rub them against nights

so they shine beams

of the alright

and show me the way

I cut my hair four inches short

So it didn’t get in the way

Of winds stroking my face

With clarity

So it didn’t disturb

The peace I felt

When I recognized something real

Can you invent a syndrome

Of the chronically ill with disgust?

Caverning in caves

One for each

So that solitude

Reminds the sick

Of what they missed about the depths of their selves

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Why are people so afraid of imprisonment

When they have created far more within their heads?

Too little too late

For realizations my friend

Spinning in the tornado

Looked like it knew what it was doing

Better to burn out that fade away

How low?

I just threw away the memories

Flushed ‘em down the drain

In two seconds

What a relief

No wonder waterfalls never stopped flowing

Nothing and no one is worth pausing life for

But hey,

What if it did?

What would you do with a stuck waterfall behind your shoulders, anyway?

Would you flatten the land so it flows ahead, instead of below

See the irony?

Let it die

A long way to go

How dreadful to want to be a human, other than a

soul having a human experience

Taking each day with its stay

As a hopeless return to innocence gone astray


Guidance can never pull a thread

Without breaking another

And this guarantees the ill-will

Of seeking the most wretched clay

Trying to mould yourself a new way

A new sculpture

To bow to

And find shade

Until  rain melts it to its fate


Friction on stones, creates fire

Much more than hands rubbing,

Hitch-hiking, for the same warmth

Inducing the same amount of need, effort and greed

a buyer can decipher to you

On a scale


There is a school to every thought

Just like a stop to every bus, and route to every train

Passing by as if,

there was room enough for entire cities

but enslaved only the naive, only the capable, only the willing

to change


Could you speak to me the vows you make

when your eyes meet flesh, and flesh averts to bone,

Bone decays with ligaments

trying to control what they can’t: movement

And this is how paralysis of the mind grows

Leaving restless, the doubts of the unknown


And then you go to sleep, but how long have you really been awake?

It’s like diving into a pool of jelly, and bouncing back hysterical..

Saving a life

In order to lead people you got to have some place to go

Will it suffice for me to want to shrink, yet grow?

Accumulated stars want to break free from constellations,

It’s like pulling wire out of wood, and designing glass instead


A broken clock may be right twice a day, but what’s the use, only for a minute?

We’re not on the same wavelength, just the same ocean

Everyone thinks the tide they bring surpasses any previous one

Don’t they know that their efforts flow just the same?


Imaginary floods, wipe out what could crash us by mistake

The unpredictable, a blessing or a curse, whatever you want

This beautiful mess, symbolizes what you think you know

What a tragedy that this is what connects us whole:

Not knowing


The whites and blacks in your piano, play themselves their own color

And you thought you created music?

What if I showed you your fingerprints under a microscope?

Would you think yourself capable of scarring the whole world?


It’s like asking paper how many times it would like to be smashed

Before you rip it without a second thought

Or asking ice what temperature it would like to melt to

And you thought you could save a life…