These lines experimental but elemental to your mental,
My creativity,
Will never submit to the minimal,
Isotopes subliminal penetrating the simple,
Similes send criminals to infiltrate your biochemicals,
Infected stanzas with stacked syntaxes sickness,
My subconscious semiautomatic and stimulated,
Formulate semblances of Leviathan illuminated,
It's a tragedy my soul's has become a victim of gravity,
Now my temples been raided,
My nirvana's disseminated,
And I've contemplated annihilation of self,
Picturing my end as a senile senior citizen,
With no one by my side,
My mind can't complete a sentiment,
Remembering has become my source of a smile,
But it's making me even more curious to taste the end of this projectile,

according to my mother happiness was a choice
religion country then family a fortress
and why was I so sad and cold
According to daddy at least
I wasn’t in Karachi where rats and corpses littered the streets
jesus bled a ******* lot in the streets of another city
and was my redemption
but how was he different from
another corpse?
how was
his blood and dissolution
different,
besides a better eulogizer?
He seemed to me
simply a man
a philosopher betrayed
by supposed friends
I did not find redemption in confirmation
of the knowledge of gold rimmed pages
and biased text.
Where I found divinity
was in the flesh and blood arms
of people that I vaguely knew
they held me together
while biochemicals
tore me apart from my moorings
and there were no lies
about salvation through death
they said only,
once you go,
you can’t come back.

Planet Earth . Creation . The perfect storm ? Miracle encapsulation of biochemicals or delivery from the Heavens above ? Millions of cells replicating upon organic matter no larger than the head of a pin ..The origin of life itself resting beneath our own skin ? Blood of mammal , hemolymph of insect , nerve cell of amphibian , skin cell of a pig ..The heart lung blood barrier of man , capillaries in the gills of fish .. Our gift of memory , albeit a curse at times , thought of mind and creativity .. Lust for blood , consumption of flesh , dominating spirit , insensitivity .  The hand that reaches for a flower , a fist driven into the face of an enemy ..Filled with love , life , intrigued with the mystery of creation one day , then hurtling over a cliff to your death the next ... Trillions of cells evolving , mutating , networking while the hallmark of life on Earth is busy de-foresting , polluting , selfishly consuming ! .......

Where do these words come from?
Where do the questions percolate?
Where does longing grow?
If only from the water and fat
of this brain.
But electrical impulses and biochemicals
have no meaning-
no poem.
What I want is a romantic answer,
A story I can hold close to my breast-
One that will satisfy the hole of endless questions,
paradoxes
and heartbreak.
One I can smile about over tea,
and laugh about
in open fields of long grass,
one that is made of
startdust
and songs.