We are our body,
But we are not infinite.
All time in one second,
Is no time at all.
Our mind is our body,
So don’t be a fool.
08/04/20
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 11:36 AM UTC
The wind ruffles,
The city sleeps.
This judgement isn't yours,
But is made to keep.
What does one wish?
Upon the eternal moon.
To wash away its sorrows,
With the rain of monsoon.
Apr 6, 2020
Apr 6, 2020 at 2:49 PM UTC
Oh dear flower,
Your scars should be your strengths,
Only then you don't have to fear for stroms.
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 1:46 PM UTC
The princess in sandals
Watched from high the great bazaar.
The last Palace that still stood
That survived the Hindustan war.
No cloud but one broke the silken sky
From which a great gleam bored;
A mighty sound, the heavens roar,
A metal bird did soar...
Shock and screeching chalk
etched itself more memories.
The princess saw from up on high
The metal bird decline.
In haste we ride, ride to beat the tide,
but lest she not neglect,
Her temperament and Royal reference,
and not omit her kindliness.
Step in, in slippers, to the shaded sheets,
In gilded glory peeps
four straddled stalls striding high;
Their equivalent copper hover fly.
This sight had not been seen; the royal court dismayed,
The flying bird was not alive but dead as boulder valley,
From which clinked out, like bugs, a line of faces similar but dissimilarly designed.
Some stories told that they were travellers from heavens farther way.
The future is not desperate but desperately In decay, plagued by fires in futures present of dust and soot and plague.
Perhaps if inclined they stayed, swayed a while in palm like grace, then maybe,
Maybe then, we could collide our past and future pace.
05/04/20
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 9:00 AM UTC
Silky smooth sunshine
Curving round curling bamboo canes,
Cranes perching, peaking inside.
Pink pig-tail trailing of a sunset sky
The still waters of the storms eye
Spies the sweet flickering of bamboo leaves tickling the solemn nod,
Of days’
Silent slide.
25-3-20
Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 11:00 PM UTC
Confined but not defined
By our incarceration;
A breath, a touch
Like fire consumption
A truncheon in our
Sky dungeon.
We thought we’d last forever
Our name sketched in space
“We’re here”
An eon of the human race’s
Final faint trace.
19-03-20
Mar 20, 2020
Mar 20, 2020 at 5:55 AM UTC
Splashing around
Droplets of sound
Pranging and cooing
So small and so round!
Watching as a bubble floats,
Sailing boats in spiralling stairs,
Then a...
Pop and a whoosh!!
Stabbed by a bush.
No pointed piercing change in
Lanes of misunderstood would,
They find me kindly or
blindly cane-trace
A
P
A
R
T
H
Into my name.
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 5:37 PM UTC
To roll and jump,
**** in big clumps;
An Animal rut-raucous,
Can anyone breathe?
Smothered slime snaking
Ant-Arching shame-
less we forget.
Beading bumps of
Red-dead delusions,
Deciding definite climbs
Braces, belts and buckles.
Decline.
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 2:09 PM UTC
If a withered rose is death
Then is a rose on fire living,
Or is she dying still?
Does she burn even brighter,
Or turn to dust to feel?
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
A technological evolution
iPhone stapled to ear
The fear
Of missing out
On our social revolution.
A constant silent disco in our heads
Makes us buzz from work to bed.
Notified about everything
In control of none
An illusion that has replaced our tongue.
The new-age religion;
A martyr to the pixelated face
Of Illustrated connections.
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 3:32 PM UTC