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.

 

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You whom I let escape

Your cloak

Hula hoops around your knees, a recap

You listen, just to relate

Whisper; just to misinterpret

The curtain closes on your big act

You taught me wrong

It’s not safe here, neither is it outside

People have always been afraid of what they don’t understand

 

You whom I let escape,

Roll these stones with you, give them pace

 

The child within, running away from you

A facade of neon lights gone unnoticed

As the alienated flee; a thousand follow

They worry, their hands turn to dust

 

 

 

Diverted attention

Chasing feathers
Around a halo
Forefeit
Like tender furr
A soft job
Because I mean
What else can you say
When a dart board
Hid magnets around its double and triple rings
Making you
Victorious
By default

If you ever
Just ever
Listened to what you heard
When your attention was elsewhere
You’d know
Just how wrong
Your own capacity to understand was

The work of a slave
Basic human rights
A silent clocktower
Only screaming to the mutes

There is fault found in the same mud
We swum in when we slithered
Past the pure and past the river
I saw land and sky in
Everything
But my own self

Until the dust settles

Faceless without gesture

Emotionless with a name, a persona

Clapping hands, overlapping the pull in the air

A mind violating the grayness of colour

Whispering to them that we’re all the same

Spread out wings now delay flight

Disorganized systems cannot disorganize souls

What’s scattered finds pieces drifting with the whole

A mouth pierced in all the wrong places

A head gear, defending camouflage for all the right graces

Until the dust settles

We will miss and keep missing the starting gun

 You have rent overdue, and want to walk on the moon

If only, forgetfulness hadn’t derived from memory

A reality hidden in your self-portrait

Now materialized your hidden fantasies

A picture to show them you were someone

A word to tell them you could speak…

Jaguar without print

Bone on a boneless structure, skeleton-less

Toys lie on a floor, where children walk barefoot no more.

Kites in the middle of rain, flew high

And each drop pierced through them making our eyes wet.


Fate decides, we shall meet in between the wondering

‘I would if I could, but I can’t so I shan’t’; excuses

Miles and miles afar, I see a shadow cornering another shadow

And my mannequins’ signature from afar, letting strings pull an inward war


I’m six feet tall, and I feel six feet empty

I have pale skin, like a jaguar without print

Although you, entwining hair, knotted voice

‘Let some light into that cavern, its already a fire ablaze’

Forming a mirage of waves that speak your name,

temporary fame,

What a shame


Chords of wisdom, dividing a dead end street with a transparent wall

With art, that meant graffiti could now portray what print didn’t

And what reflected back, was us in a crystal,

I have never seen anything as fragile, as ego within ego


Superstitions, like standing beneath an apple tree with your hands open

With a prayer, hoping for some juice

Blame luck, destiny, karma; for a rotten one

There’s a worm in between, a curse through the years

A small one, your root to ungratefulness

None falling; God conspiring against you


The thing is, believer of the skies

You could have reached it yourself with a climb, a stick or a stone, which ever, whenever

Yet, instead, you were like the jaguar without print,

Who thought it was no jaguar at all

Who didn’t roar, who didn’t speed when prey approached

And so it became prey itself

A half filled glass of liquor in a coffee shop…