Monosyllabic swish
She draws her sword
Not for blood
But to light the world
With the glint
Of swords shiny tip
Her eyes.

Oh Cryptic
You suspend me in mid air
In bewilderment I hang
The streams in your mind
Are running over the river banks
Its not clarity I ask
Weave a net with perplexity
So I am saved when I crash land

A late evening time at Starbucks is pleasure undefined
I was expecting a lady tired at 9
But she looked perfect and absolutely fine
Whipped up her sweater and wore it inside out
Pretty and gorgeous she looked anyway, without any doubt
A very pretty young lady you see
She offered her hand to me in greeting and I accepted it gladly
Her hand was soft and smooth like silk and gripped mine firmly
In my large paw her little hand was almost like that of a child
In silence we continued to shake hands and I just smiled
She then turned away and bade me follow her saunter
I followed her exotic heady fragrance to the coffee counter
Silently she glimpsed the menu mounted on the wall
A latte with cream and do make it small
Even wearing flat footwear I marveled at her daintiness
Only reaching the dizzy height of five foot three more or less
The straight smooth hair cascaded onto her shoulders softly
A fitted silk blouse complemented her waif-ish frame perfectly  
I know not of her covered  waists and the hips
Then the shapely feet perched up in a cushioned stool
The overall effect was stunning and I was smitten I will confess
Then light illuminated her form through silken dress
The sudden transparency left nothing at all to the imagination
Seemingly completely oblivious to the effect she had achieved
On the red-blooded man in her wake she’d never have believed




And then she paused with a vacant look and looked at me
And the illumination in her eyes lit  her entire body
The vent of her dress caught in the seat
The glimpse of her footwear confirmed the intent I had
A she elegantly slipped into a comfortable position
And gestured towards me to take my place
She is not coy neither is she proud she is upright and confident
Her hypnotic voice was crystal clear yet soft
I was mesmerised enveloped into her intoxicating looks
She opened her bag and gently took out her laptop
Like a precious work of art she had paid for at Sothebys
Every stroke on the keys was like a brush stroke of an artist
As her well kept hair cascade to her shoulders like a drizzle
The light above made her skin sparkle along with her strands
Golden droplets like a stream caressing her neck gently
I was transfixed and my thoughts ceased momentarily
Then it started like a wind blowing in the land of fantasy.


The light flickered unassumingly her strands of golden hair glistened
A small streak like a golden rain tumbled and caressed her nape gently
And rested on her soft shoulders diffidently
The hues of colours made me question the rainbows dedication
Her eyes were captivating and pieced through me like cupids arrow
And her nose the seemed to constantly sense goodness as it tingled
Her mouth extended stretching her lips signifying the enormity of her heart
Her words come forth from her moist lips and decorated my heart
On brief occasions she let he lips do a waltz in her mouth
I glimpsed at her smooth arms a few shades of same colour
Those delicate fingers those nails were like **** for a drug addict
Few rings clung on to her fingers and I envied them
Jewels adorn ordinary mortals she had none - the radiant jewel herself
Her keys dropped to the floor and she bent to pick it
Her blouse gaped revealing her breast a wee bit
A milky white flesh in crimson blaze and I avert the gaze
It was time to leave but my emotional storage tanks were full to the brim
I held her cheeks for a second and then she was gone
Her dazzling beauty turned on the stage lights and I was blinded
My language centres seemed to have gone on an vacation
There were no words to leave my mouth
I held tight to her fragrance that lifted me up in the air
Behold i could fly.

Satellites, perfumes, smartphones and other gizmos
Then they forget the giant stench among them
Dwelling with them and moving with them
A monster with an insatiable appetite
A work of art some would say
It overflows from households and factories
Into works of Philosophy and literature
The sages that attained Nirvana in the midst
Of adulterated syringes and gross excrement
The New Buddha under the Garbage mountain
The Prince among the generations to come
Abounding in dialectical wisdom from distant worlds
Embodied in an era of savage monstrosities
Where heads are pounded with information
And hearts won over by shallow myths
Take me away from the world into excesses
Ungroudning my wretched appetites into sheer freedom
Garbage freedom, serfdom unleashed
A new religion emerges suffocating Ecological gods
Radically excessive backdrops for new sciences
We sing new songs as we ascend into thrash
We thrash and we rejoice for our destiny
The destiny of life over nature’s laws

In the courtyard of swift absent tyranny
Sifting below times, spaces and ages
Across all human bonds and morbid connections
Into a world of great gaps and wonder

(The boy, three feet tall, touches the sky and embodies the grey wind)

The city was made of gold, sapphire and onyx
Glowing with the light of ten thousand stars
Sheltering every broken hearted soul in its wings
In the sky, the night sky with hearts for stars

I see you, the cracks in your being
I watch your flesh decay as I embrace you
I touch your empty skull when I kiss your head
I drink your tears of anguish like a tragic nobody

When I hold your hand, it withers away
When I look into your eyes, I see sorrow
When I caress your dark hair, I see infertility
When I hear your voice, I hear a sad song

(Then you look at me and wonder "What do the dark empty spaces between the stars mean? Don't you know that we were once dead stars who became human?)

I was the prince of the night sky
The envy of the gods in the heavens
Beasts feared me and demons abhorred me
Luminous and radiant by your side I dwelt

But see you, I could not
Feel you, I did not
Touch you, I must not
Cry a tear, I should not

The Lord of the lark and the morning sun saw us
The breath of life awoke me from deep slumber
We will meet again soon beyond this presence
Where the dewdrops kiss the stubborn earth

Betwixt heaven and earth did my soul wander
The memory of flesh is my broken crown
O Saint Francis, thou didst know that all is soul
Why then did you allow the holy stigmata to afflict your flesh?

(He then meets the Saint's presence and he sees wounds of glory that entwines him to the Lord of life)

Oh Lord of awe, is he one of your creatures?
They say that beasts yielded to your presence dear Saint
I see the golden harvest and the clear morning sun
The oxen burn with passion and the river never runs dry

I feel the vibrations of the earth my mother
I bathe in the waters of the fountain of life
I see the Lamb that was slaughtered
I see eternity in your broken laughter.

This is the story of a young man who found his feet....
Turning around twisted corners among ancient street of cobblestones,
he felt his numb senses come alive
much like the way young girls come alive
in the aura of a subtle yet extravagant fragrance.

The call of the city was too wild to ignore
and the dastardly cries from empty streets gave strength
to his otherwise weary feet.
The tales of the midnight furies wandering skyline saturated
with giant pods and artificial gadgets
was as powerful as any other rumor of a technology
so wonderful that it will call for another great revolution.
The mall was rife with footfalls and giant screens
with amazing propositions
each promising an experience like never  before.

He is then saturated with experiences that a caveman
would have dreamed of only in his version of "heaven".
"Eternity in a grain of sand" is what the Poet said
in great eloquence but too many "eternal moments"
made him question the existence of an "afterlife".
He pondered "Maybe death makes sense now more than anything..
the dead do not need experience,
they are weary of that burden ****** upon the living."
He turned to visit the grave
but he remembered the words of the wise Philosopher
"Visit the dead in the morning
when the first rays of the Sun kiss the Earth
after she wakes up from her slumber."
He imagined the Night as the time where the Earth slumbered
and dreamt up solid vagaries.
The Night is always "Queer"
but then the Sun arrives with so much clarity
that but then the Neon lights are an intrusion
to this order trying to bring balance to man
caught up in an exchange too lofty for him to understand.

He looked into the night sky
and saw the great manmade light shining into the darkness psychoanalyzing the night and shaming her narrative.
The Neon light stands between light and darkness,
it is dark because plants do not respond
to it the way it does to the sun
but it definitely gives a clarity and a perspective
the Sun can never understand.

What does it mean to walk this city?
The gods hid among nature first,
in forests, rivers, mountains and the clouds
but we bumped into them everyday because of Prometheus's error !!
He suffers eternally with a grin
because he was the only Titan who destroyed the gods from within.

Then the gods hid in cities, farms,
vineyards, temples and the graves of the dead
but we sought them out through Monotheistic rites.
Then they said to themselves
"We are running out of spaces,
perhaps the time is now rife
when we take shelter in human language,
we can deceive mortal men that they have power over their language
but take shelter precisely where they boast complete dominance."

Then they lived among us hidden,
we tried to seek them but could never find them
till one day we found traces of their likeness
in the words we speak and now History is a war!
A war to take language from the gods and take control of History. Deconstruction gave us tactical advantage
and mathematics struck the final blow
and now the gods have run out of spaces
and they inhabit garbage mounds.

They know that that "wastelands" exist in human minds
and we now seek to saturate ourselves with experiences
that we have finally become weary
of this futile war till our machines took over.

They exist only to rid hunt down the gods
at all costs and render the Earth as she is.
We will no longer see traces of the gods
when we look upon the Night sky
but only unmediated objective truth!
Then shall the poets lament,
the kings of the Earth lose their ground,
the archer will shoot with no purpose,
the seducer will lose his cunning
and the skeptic will fall silent.
We try to invent new rituals
but we know that our only purpose here was to defeat the gods.
Nietzsche said that man is a bridge
between the ape and the ubermensch
but little did he know
that the ubermensch was the bridge between him and the Machine!
Here is the story of a young man
who found his feet and matter
was as dense as adamantium and as light as cotton candy....

Those little streaks of light
I gathered carefully in a bottle
A few drops of time
Dollops of love
Shaken and stirred
Gently holding your cheeks
Drop by drop
I feed you
Your lips consume
You bloom
You are the morning