i never believed i could fly...
yet, the other day,
i found myself 30,000 ft in the air -
yet again -
having a hard time believing
the captain’s reassuring words.

i was stopped thrice by security;
there was so much metal on me,
you could taste it in the air around me.
i could swear the metal detector had
picked up on my insecurity -
as it swiftly brushed against a drop of
sweat at my temple.
the ‘beeps’ might as well’ve been
swear words,
censored.

having already had two hits of the ‘good stuff’
before leaving for the port,
to say i was paranoid would be an understatement.  
‘what if the machine picks up
traces of substance off my sweat?!!’
yep - i did think so.
‘twas bad.

already late for boarding,
i managed to find myself at the gate,
and into the aircraft,
at the indifferent pace of the final announcement.
the air hostess peddled a magazine my way:
i accepted it -  
read it;
then closed it;
it had no substance.

i could feel the turbulence getting louder;
in my head, that is;
there was a pressure difference,
that didn’t feel any different:
‘twas just something that had to be dealt with;
so i split the difference -
i held my breath,
and it let loose - my dread.

the branded seats featured a slogan
from a recent ad campaign by the airline
celebrating its 18th anniversary -
‘how time flies’, it read;
‘clever…’, i thought -
then turned a sour eye to the window,  
having not written it myself.

i saw the setting sun, past the surging clouds -
flares galloping across their shifting terrain
like little kids on a merry-go-round
chasing each other -
too young to realize
it was never meant to be a race.  
i couldn’t help but chuckle
at that radiant sincerity.

for all intents and purposes,
‘twas was a golden hour;
fifty five minutes,
to be precise.

Music courses through your veins
Beating to the rhythm of your heart
Evoking that intangible feeling
Always slightly out of reach
Always on the tip of your tongue
Becomes a little bit closer
With every note sounded
With every phrase performed
Closer to the cliff overlooking the horizon
Where the view goes on forever

The rain cascades down in sheets
Drenching lawns and streaking windows
A lone figure traverses the maelstrom
Wading through the newly formed streams
Forging a path through the damp darkness
Droplets dance in the passing headlights
As cars cruised to their unknown endpoints
A streak of lightning divides the sky
The world reflecting her inner turmoil
Sometimes it's useless to seek shelter from the storm
And it's better to embrace
The cleansing power of rain

brain signals for blood:
a freight of the past revs to life;
generational curses come on board the ride
with their hefty baggage,
and roughneck IDs;

the nervous conductor lets them on -
offers them a ticket, and sighs -
‘this too shall pass.’

there’s enough anger in one man
to put even the Gods to shame;
it speaks to him in
mournful moments, when -
the shadow of doubt clouds  
his acumen, and his candour
reigns far too long.

he sleeps with it;
dreams of it;
and once it has
invaded his subconscious,
he revels in it --
it makes him feel powerful,
and hungry for a scam
that disguises itself as a reward.

belittled by his own words,
he seeks refuge in others
who share his wrath -
for they are everywhere:
they help him carve his words
into a dagger of insecurity,
with which he stabs those
who tried to offer him
an antonym for violence;

the blood he draws shall
dye his conscience -
evil red.

does love conquer all?
it’s a funny notion –
for all it ever taught me was defeat:
defeat so debilitating,
it borders on cruelty;
cruelty so brazen,
it borders on psychopathic;
it makes you feel like a man,
as it grips you by the *****;
makes you feel like a pig,
while it humours your piety.
given a chance,
it would split you in half:
one half –
pulling punches;
the other half –
paralyzed by reproach;
you want to kick love
in the teeth;
you want to love love
with all your heart;
you want to do both –
and not lose your mind  
at the same time.
you want to choke love’s
throbbing throat:
watch it gag on
your undying passion;
and when the war is over,
you’re left wondering –
‘was it even a fair figh—
                          — oh, right… that was never in the picture.’  

so, i guess –
love does conquer all:
all that you are,
all that you’ll ever be,
and all that’s left of you.

Words threaten to overflow
The self constructed ****
That I erected in my mind
Piece by piece, brick by brick
Her eyes awash with acidity
Dissolve the bonds Restricting my tongue
Her silence an oppressive heat
My words evaporated on contact
Like the cruel mistress of the seasons
She takes everything and leaves nothing

there’s a great divide -
between the anatomy of my brain,
and the fluidity of my mind;
i struggle to make the crossover,
for i must advance in phases
in between their flimsy makeovers:
in, and out -
then back in again.
the brain is humbled by its own mortality;
the mind boasts of an eternal life;
both petrified by rancid thoughts
of yesterday -
and the day before that -
and the month before that -
and the years before…

as i regress -
slowly, and infinitely -
i long for my natal mind,
and a tougher cranium.

the path lays trodden;
a milestone, leads to nowhere;
somewhere down, a leaf floats -
mid-air - to the whims of the cold breeze,
afraid to touch the bitter ground.
the soldiers are afoot;
marching to the sound
of static, broadcasted by their
unreliable leaders.
the innocent seek asylum -
flee from states of unrest;
the power seems absolute -
hardly dynamic;
pistols aim for the heads;  
warheads aim for the heads -
of nations - all trying to outperform  
each others’ retribution;
panzers guard the rogue bases,
like hellhounds, starved of souls.
mothers kiss their babes, ‘--night’,
then wipe their hapless tears;  
fathers beg for their sons’ lives,
and their daughters’ honour;
God exists only in afterthoughts;
ceremonies shroud in silence;
children become too self-aware
for their undemanding ages;
schools shut their gates -
push them further into the nightmare;
tell them they don’t belong;

one of them’s had enough…
pushes back.