A drop of even
with a hint of odd
continue fighting
without a thoughtful nod

as long as one is one
and two is two
religion works
and spreads like flu

question rises
and beliefs are shaken
when even hides
and odds awaken

then

The tunnel of light
and the ray of hope
suddenly turns dim
and difficult to cope

odd shines
alone in crowd
even dies
Sleeping in proud


Manisha

In five years I will
be half-way to the horizon.
Exactly where I am now,
yet in a different place.

I'll always choose the third door
and probability will be on my side.

In ten years I will
be half-way to the horizon.
With so much progress,
and nothing to show it.

I'll always argue for my opinion
and there will be a chance I'm right.

In twenty-five years I will
be half-way to the horizon.
Maybe I'll have company,
but I could be alone.

I'll always make direct eye contact
with hope I don't look scared of you.

In fifty years I will
be half-way to the horizon.
And I will be able to stop.

A cycle.
That's all it is.
Everything we do,
Is done again.
Everything we say,
is always the same.
But theres one thing that doesn't change,
Death.
Because nothing happens after that,
Some believe in the afterlife,
Some don't,
Either way,
We will be in a coffin,
Buried deep underground.*
And that would be it.
The end of a cycle!

Monotonous

Monotonous
The word to describe the imminent danger that we seem to fall into, 
Once we become rhythmically sound, with whats going on, and is around
Just Us
And the world that we’ve been given
We shed, 
Still our dream seem to hide before they ever leave
And will never return
Unless we say 
Please

Falling into the trap that we lay for ourselves
Wrapped up
Just children believe they are aloud to
Become robotic
Sitting on the table chair
Reading hieroglyphs
Under circumstances I declare
That the world is full of simple gifts
Its not the way the we should,
Its not the kind that looks good, on just anybody
Especially me and my family
As we run on the treadmill trying to step further into the sea
But the emptiness, isn’t as clean as I hoped it would be
I still feel things
You know what I mean

Like the way we walk down the side walk
Talking to the trees tripping over rocks
While selling some ****, in your ***** bathroom socks
We can only bring so much attention
To the walls that hold all of our attention
Just long enough to sing the melody
We’ve already heard too much
We understand, but never plan to do anything about it
We allow it
We fall into it
We talk about
But we’re still stuck
Lost in the grip that never loosens
Which will hide the fact that we’re all held in nooses
Being told what to choose
And who loses

But thats not what I would like to see
While I sit on the fence post waiting for the final killing spree
We are not free
Yet
And I still see double when I think about the vet
If I was a dog and had an allergic reaction to some chocolate
It seemed worth it
The pay check I receive seems worth it
When returning to the cushy 1 bed room apartment that I sleep in 
On occasion
I seldom listen 
To just the radio stations
Just to have a little peace 
From the monotony that never seises