I know the toothless women
Who crumple on the streets
The rain bleeds through their cardboard,
The cold drips through their feet

I know the dying children
With anaesthetic arms
The angels crowd around them
With time that burns their palms

I've hugged the brainwashed gangsters
With money drenched in blood
I've heard their broken weeping
While digging up the mud

I've seen the starving faces
Of the tired girls at home
The broken, hectic psyches
That eat them to the bone

I know the burning poets
With a desperate thirst for life
The need for finding soulmates
That pierces like a knife

There's weary public servants
Who risk their lives for good
And prove compassion every day
Yet stay misunderstood

Human love is buried
Beneath the plastic weight
Of angry allegations
And a world that feeds off hate

These people may be messy,
But they're beautiful and real
With hidden dreams and secrets
And ability to feel

We have a place to run to
With lights of peach and gold
Where all the weight is lifted
And all our tales are told

We live in total freedom
So safe beneath the moon
And though it seems ambitious
Our dreams will save us soon

Since useful tends to be useless,
And the worth of it seems to be dead,
A message comes from the weather,
All things are counter, original and strange.

Light is fast, the mind is faster yet,
A cheetah seems to be the wind, but the wind
Pretends to soar.

A statue is tall, a giraffe pretends, to seek,
What's the use of a relative difference?
As the coordination repeats?

The sun is brighter, the camera records, the fact,
The Colors seem to call,
And keep all resplendence intact.

A healthy diet helps to grow, a blessing,
Does the same.
A rolling truck kills a shadow, the darkness kills a man.
The music of Mozart and the sound of rain,
Generates a good gorging delight,
The pattern of silk, and the warmth of fire,
Gives the direction to the night.

All things counter original spare strange,
Since useful tends to be useless.

A shadow is my friend.
As flowers never bend,
From the kitchen, I bring-
Lots of honey and wine.
I have been to the station,
In the park, in the mansion.
Like flowers without a fragrance,
My shadow never resembles, a layer.

See the desert, the snow, the rain.
See, go on to see some more.
Seeking to see the shelf of shells, alone.
Flowers and shadows do not have souls.

I am working, be patient with me,
Jingle the bell, words will fall.
The wires seem to call,
I eat and drink and sleep.

What leaves do they read?
What on earth does it mean?
Even now they all seem to have shadows,
Purchasing sugar.

Go on, go ahead, dance the antic hay,
A shadow is your friend,
As flowers never bend with what they say.

From the canon of thought,
The mind moves like a twirling body of smoke.
The leaves rustle, the breath of a cloud,
gets mixed with all his heroic deeds.

As the flow of a river continues like time
flowing, it tends to engulf the sufferer.
His bed of rocks shiver.

Balancing the proportionate use of memory,
He begins his speech.

Destruction is sustained, in motion.
Smoother is the course of action.
From the language supreme- it emanates-
The principal way.

He understands the resemblance, he presumes,
the family, the king, the extensions.
As the witnesses question-Who are you?

The irony of life kills the man,
It is the realization which remains.
His dignity is torn into pieces.

The shivering bed of rocks followed the pattern,
of an unconquerable host.
The way towards death, dusty death.

The moment recedes into the past.
The present records the past.
He was one of us.

I am close to comfort-
My lights shine.
I see the screen of words,
they seem to die, each minute.

What if the words are not sounds?
but a vision locked in my mind?
Silly questions.

I understand.
Time and more  Time
for days and works of hands.
Crescent bays, megapixels.

Zooming.