Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney
Wanderer dilettante soul lusted au wild routes
Counted each the millimiles covered
Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly.
Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides
Beated around the alcoves amok
Ridges passed the marooned trails
Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals
Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness
True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts
The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner
By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace
Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled
Blinked all the roof to rugs
Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks
Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring
If body wins wanderlust looses thereby path ends
Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow
Only the body grazed the maps with pointers
Though insatiably leveed
Kept retention the coursing shadow
Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits
Life was near but the abstainer failed
Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique
There appeared
Scorched canopies along wilted flora
Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death
Physique deceived self the core truth
Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna
Several followed the imperishable conflict trail
Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension
Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers
Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers
Raise up , were the victories thristled down?
Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations
Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions
Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadows
Flip sorties pariance spurts
"The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow

Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney
Wanderer dilettante soul lusted wild routes
Counted each the millimiles covered
Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly.
Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides
Beated around the alcoves amok
Ridges passed the marooned trails
Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals
Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness
True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts
The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner
By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace
Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled
Blinked all the roof to rugs
Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks
Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring
If body wins, wanderlust looses thereby path ends
Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow
Only the body grazed the maps with pointers
Though insatiably leveed
Kept retention the coursing shadow
Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits
Life was near but the abstainer failed
Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique
There appeared
Scorched canopies along wilted flora
Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death
Physique deceived self the core truth
Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna
Several followed the imperishable conflict trail
Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension
Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers
Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers
Raise up , were the victories thristled down?
Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations
Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions
Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadow
Flip sorties pariance spurts
"The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow

mama warned me
about becoming attached to ghosts,
about chasing the lights that flicker behind closed eyelids,
   trailing their
     ruminant symbiology
      down labyrinthine tunnels
till you're left, stranded
   in a nowhere from where you started
and they fade
away
to nothing.

...

I keep loosing sight  in the lag
    that hesitant flickering pivoting between footsteps,
those   pauses  of breath  between paragraphs
of the mold in the ceilings dictated speeches,
the decade old dust encrusted spider-webs on the coffers abandoned superstructures, intricate semantic patterns, still present, present, but encapsulating nothing.

                                     (Educations warped my mind
                                       into prescriptive paradigms
                                      drugged up on science fiction
                                      alternate attritions of future presents)


–//

One day,
      the ocean promised to swallow the world,
but failed to set a date; just a vague sense of inevitability.
and everyone gets uncomfortable about the liminality,
and there's
                     a moment of rupturing
                      unveiling the blanketing
in the process of our mass comatose suicide,
                            That    no     ones sure what to do with.
And we collapse into the indecision
of what to make of this wavering present
  loosing sight
between barricades of candy bars and cheeseburger pies
while the radio static sighs
'boys only want love if it's torture'

                                                  (i find it a bit optimistic)

//–


I keep becoming waylaid in the lag
   the hesitant faltering between long warn down footprints
   travelling down some path set out by the last
   in no way definitive; but, at least, defined
   by the haphazard indentations left behind
  while sometimes there’s treasure in the depths that we climb
   it's never the kind
                                 that explains itself.

            (But still time turns and churns and burns
                while we frantically mine all the scattered urns.)


   –\

            The philosophers and neuroscientists keep working to find the foundations underlying why
               we think what we think, why we feel what we feel,
     they peel up the carpet and peer into what's beneath, but
                                     they just keep finding

                                         ripped up carpet  and musk.

                 \–


I keep searching for home in the lag,
    the tumbling bind of footfalls enshrined.
      but even if there's no way out of here,
      there's occasionally a whisper of camaraderie in the air


       (you never escape,
              no no,
            but sometimes
                the enclosure unfolds )

...

mama warned me
about becoming attached to ghosts,
about chasing the lights that flicker behind closed eyelids.
    but here in the dark,
  i'm not sure what else to follow.