Every single pain
I deny
even in my deepest sorrow
I don't cry, not even heaving a sigh

In quietest acceptance
neither for solace nor relief I plead
pity I don't pour on myself
nor that of others' do I need.

I feel it
and now  
I think I am sure
I know nothing

at the end of things
nothing seems the same
the past in retrospect is but
vestiges of words and memories-
it seemed so real then
but is now shrouded in a cloud
in the most nebulous doubt

yes, I was there
that I don't deny
as I recollect in the present
I could never be sure
(who is sure about life
or the right or wrong of things?
and what is real or unreal?
Who can grasp life's unknowns and mysteries?)

Am I a walking dream?
Is life a mere illusion?

no
it's not about
to be or not to be
or being or non-being
that which I had acted upon
were deeds that had been done
and the past could never be undone
moments that expired
like  rain once fallen
could not be recaptured
even if I were to repent
yet--there's none to judge me
but my own self--
why have remorse then?

we are shadows
we aren't real
(is reality but a hoax?)

All said and done
I conclude-
life is a lacuna
I am nothing
but  a moment in time
and nothing do I know.

Genius is surrounded
by mystery
the owner asks:
Should I be happy
or am I an object
of pity?

I'm burdened
by its weight
which is crushing me

I'm not free
no longer my old self--
dejected and unhappy-
even my friends are behaving strangely
no longer desiring my proximity
it's as though nothing of life's joys I could claim
I'm overpowered
by a force that I can't name

the voice within torments me
day and night
it wouldn't leave me even for a moment
and I've no place to hide:
' you're the chosen one
and there's no escape
from your duty-
the world is waiting
watching
expecting
demanding
and this is the journey
you alone and you only
must take
not just for your own sake
but the whole of humanity'

Genius
the greatest mystery
how tragic the lives of so many
as  recorded by history.

Everyone praises to the sky high-tech
not me---the **** thing knows no tact--
a slight mistake you make
serious offence it does take
it gets into a rage--immediately-
it shuts you out--without mercy
you start to sweat, panic and say:
Dear High-Tech, show pity, don't go away
it's arrogant and relentless like none other
though you might be at the end of your tether
My mean boss Mr Farthing Cross comes along and does yell
why take so long--what the hell
are you doing?  Do you want the sack, Mr Slow?
and how could I reply: my computer has given me a blow?
How could I not blame the Industrial Revolution
that has caused all this chaos without compunction?

Let me just say this:  high-tech I detest
it would just cause everyone untold sorrow and unrest

and now comes Mr Cross
'  You're sacked......'--well he's the boss!

You are so clever
which I'm never
you are street-smart
you excel in this art.

I've no wit
not even a tiny bit
got kicked out from school
my wife filed for divorce: 'Why did I marry this **** fool?'

Such a short but simple
and beautiful word---'We'
there would be endless peace and joy
all over---if we think we are all within the same human family

for where the 'I' no longer stultifies
the 'you' whom they and I accept so readily
where we laugh in joy or share one another's sorrow
we'll stand together in fraternity and harmony.

Be thankful
shout for joy
because
'they'
hate, deride
or despise
you

it's
they
vs you

be grateful
as
they
are taking
you
into their reckoning

you
must be
an important guy
or why else
should
they
bother

let
them
vociferate
and vituperate
the more
they
do so
the higher
you
they
rate

it's
your
moment of triumph

you
've caused
them
headaches
heart-aches
sleepless nights
embarrassment
even shame
and discontent

how
they
ache
to see
you
falling down

but
you
look away
you
are silent
and not a word
you
speak
nor care to reply
justify
or explain
you
in so doing
make
them
more uneasy
indeed
you
inflict
endless pain
on
them

the truth is
you
are not to blame
it's
they
who stoke the fire
and it's burning
them

too soon
they
can't take
the strain

frustrated
disappointed
irate
desperate
agitated
in anxiety unabated

they
in despair
throw their hands
in the air
they
give up

you
have conquered
them
with
your
masterly-orchestrated
stand and
contempt.