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Then there was man
Who fought the wild
Braved the winter
Dodged the sun
Made the fire
Rode a wheel
Tilled the land
Dug the sand
Brought water
Carved cities
Read books
Pulled the trigger
Went to space
Ruled a people
Left a *****
A fragile Y
That has to
Somehow
Beat 2X
To stay in the fight...
BIRTHDAY

The Ganges rose to the leviathan
A cloud came and gobbled the Phœbus
A vacuum prevailed 
Everything stopped to the dead
Not a feather, not a leaf
The time stopped and so did life
As the timeless reigned
A feeling, a religion, a philosophy
Reduced to nothing
Sorrow, anger, pain 
Joy, elation, pride
Tension, pity, strain
All thrown aside
The Acme and the Core
The Zenith, the Nadir
The far, the near
No woes, no fear
Like the effulgence in the dark
Like the oasis in the desert
Like the earth in the ocean
Like the pause in the motion
Not a god, not a lord
With a frown on mankind
With nothing, with everything
All the darkness, all the light
All the questions, all their answers
All the doubts, all the certainties
Everything seemed collinear
Everything glittered yet not perturbed
The waves and the songs all lasted
A myth from the heaven chose to fall
The Halo, the Aurora Borealis, the Ignis fatuus
The celestial ******* started
The cosmos ******* a perpetual glow
The Hades waited for the quantum ghost
The war waged and the blissful pain persisted
A layman preached the genesis
A sage preached the war
A soul preached the nothing
A work done
Undone
All the blossoms sold
All the colors used 
All the beauty spoiled
Everything remained untouched Indifferent
The heaven-born demon wailed high
The goblins danced the Omega
The olympian omelet spelt the Omen
And there wasn’t even a Nowhere
The sperms swam in an ocean of stars
To search for a just partner
To punch into a colossus
Chanting the doom of the dead
The mothers lay naked
The fathers on them
To give birth to an infinity
The ******* Nature buggered
A billion and eighty times
And no *******
To prevent the divine 
From attaining the eternal high
All the universal wonders
Deemed to the puny
With a supracosmic indifference
The dimensions went astray
All the riches and all the virtues
Amalgamated into a big ball
To play football with it
For the fun of the cosmic Czar
The Oracle sounded a catastrophe
A chaos amongst the asteroids and the meteors
A pandemonium occurred in the kingdom of comets
The anarchy plundered the perennial peace
A golden-soft bathed the culmination
That smelt a smoked rose
The quest for the quarks and the Vedic hymns
Sang the ecstasy of a never-ending charm
Men fell for men
Women for women
Defying the Nature
Ignoring existence
All the animals refusing to grow but to live
Platonic love ousting the corporal pleasures
An unpronounced evolution changed the being
The Absolute attained the throne all alone
There wasn’t a piece of stone
No more sentiments
Intelligence out of availability,
Thoughts existing but no…
A confusion devouring the emotions
Mind and soul all merged into a single hole
The ****** of Venus bleeds
Reptiles…reptiles…reptiles
All protesting the curse of the Creation
To them life: eczema of existence
The electronic enigma
And the molecular metaphor
Bombarding the atomic asceticism
The philosophy of the proton
And the nobility of the neutron
Recreate the nebula of the nucleus
The cosmic egg floating on an ocean of *****
To seek a string of islands
The quintessence of which is a countdown
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, zero
I am born.
A sound is a uniform pattern of audible vibrations.
The one that was created when…
The cup full of tea
fell on the floor
from his hand
Or
When the fat tea-seller
slapped the little boy
for having dropped
the cup full of tea
Or
When the little boy
fell thereby hitting
his forehead on the floor
and letting out 
a stream of blood
Or
When I stood up
took out my revolver
and shot the fat man
at the forehead
exactly where the
little boy was hurt
Or
When the fat *******
fell on the ground
and died 
but
not at once
since the bullet
missed the ******
by a whisker.
A noise is an inconsistent pattern of audible vibrations.
The one that was created when…
An ambulance 
and a police car
arrived together
at the scene
of crime.
[Café 65 is the name of the tea-stall where I met the first person of this piece of work, one fine evening]
I still couldn’t remember the entrance
Simply because it never happens
But found myself vague in
The long corridors of melatonin
The ones that led into
A room that became rooms
Different and many
I had been to
The open courtyard 
And the garden
Yet couldn’t recall when
The water of the fountain fell
Like the sound of a forgotten smell
On the timeless space
I think I was on the terrace
Then...
High, high, high
Up in the southern sky
On cloud nine
My penthouse looks divine

Low, low, below
I see them moving slow
Lesser mortals, lowlives:
A Dog Civilization thrives

They can’t move fast
For they aren’t destined to last
They bark and they fight
Eat, **** and mate day and night

In houses and on streets
They live with whosoever greets
And though they stink
They claim they can think

Now from my penthouse I see
Another penthouse way above me
From there on my foot, a bone fell
Enchanted, I started wagging my tail.
Snow is falling...

On the treetops
On the rooftops
On the doorbell

Snow is calling...
Yesterday, he came with lots of butter
Some yellow, some white, some grey 
Silent as ever, not a word did he utter 
His beautiful butters lay ready to prey

The sun was hot like a frying pan
It melted the butters and the man
Came evening, away the melting goes
By night, once again the butters froze

Today, a huge chunk of butter is it
The breakfast smells of milk and cheese
A diet very healthy indeed
But for that little blood and bone to tease.
A ball
rolls on the terrace
falls through the air
hits the sidewalk
bounces a few times
rolls on the sidewalk
stops.
The CHILD
dies.
I am sitting on a leather sofa
In front of me a low oval wooden table
On the table a glass
In the glass some whiskey
In the whiskey some sleep
In the sleep an oblivion
In the oblivion some solace
That You could have given me
By not drinking the whiskey
By not getting high
By not abusing me
By not getting killed
By not sending me to jail
By not depressing me
By not making me a drunk
By not making me drink the whiskey
In the glass
On the low oval wooden table
In front of the leather sofa
That I just left
For good
For our home
For another leather sofa
Where we made love the first time
Where we fought the last time
Where your eviscerated body lay that day
Where asleep now lies another:
A helpless little body commemorating our dead love story.
As I take a stroll every evening
There in those woods so green
I watch come to me from afar
A yellow tram with a red scar

The tram comes from a future
I conceived in the past
A world with a ****** culture
I once designed to last

Now as I board the tram
I journey to my end
For my future is a sham
My death’s a trend

But the tram changed course
And travels back in time
For my past’s the true source
Of each and every crime

The tram moves fast
And the woods go brown
As I reached my past
I got down with a frown

It took me some time
I righted my past
I cremated my crime
Returned at last

As I strolled the after evening
Within my mind ever so green
I perceived a thought afar
Yellow, but without a scar.
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