Most peculiarly of most things was that I thought all of this very fishy, daudry, drab, and boresome. This is where I turn on the second table lamp...

In a muster I arrived to the home of my aunt, where at once she drew me into the back of the house, down a flight of stairs made of tusk and bone into a catacomb where she kept a alive collection of wooly mammoths. She said the upkeep wasn't awfully horrendous as she had an invisible backdrop which led to a lion, a witch, and a wardrobe sort of thing. I stood in the gangway behind 10 foot high thigh bones waiting for one of the monstrous red beasts to come greet me, but what arrived was a very large elephant with longer tusks than usual. None of the red sillyness which I had dreamt of seeing in my previous years.

She could see I was not that impressed, and so I was led to another part of her home. Around the corner walked in my uncle in is superb and luxurious dress, reminiscent of 18th century British military fatigues. He said, "I bought the E.T. ride from Universal Studios, but as bringing the whole ride to my home I had them adapt a more suitable version to fit the property. A hangar opened and inside there were four chariots of orange and blue, diamond shaped school buses with their undersides aimed at withholding a V-shaped street. Then in two and two single file order all the classmates of my K-12 years arrived and took seat into the strappings of this 'ride' we were to take. Music played, John Williams even was produced by hologram, and after the ups and downs for several minutes we arrived to what I thought would inevitably be the forest, but rather was what I perceived was a Finnish town. The chariot I was in was stuck in the street, mud, rain, and soot entrenched us. I unbuckled the polyester straps and when I stood I realized that though the seats had built in urinals and toilets they were utterly noiseome to the senses. I followed a local girl to a food mart where I asked how I could find where I was but no one spoke a drop of English.

I corraled the group and told them to wait for me. I followed this girl who seemed quite younger than I to a small apartment in the uppermost floor of a very unsturdy chapel-like home several suburban blocks from our ride. She immediately removed her pants and I saw with my very own eyes that she was hairless and nubile. She insisted that we have a ****, and after I caressed her and complained too that she was far too young, she insisted that the age of consent in Germany was actually 13 yet she was 16. I remember it clearly. The most gigantuous feelings of pleasure as I mended a studio closet for my dining room furniture inside her ripening channel. Eventually after an hour we finished, she offered me a towel and some biscuits, which I consumed joyously.

Upon leaving her home I remembered that she had said we were in Germany, and so I produced a measure of Deutsch that I had been saving in my repetoir for the right moment. As Finnish is not my strongest language I was pleased of this and became instantly popular among the other candidates of our journey. This  E.T. ride is far different than  I remember it having been. Moments later I awoke quickly, a tuft of her black hair on my eiderdown comforter and a veil of tears from the merriment of glee shrouded over my face. After I rolled and balled into the soft feathers of my bedding, I twisted myself again into a knot, and allowed myself to rejoin the soporific treatice I was aiming for.

This is now where I turn off both lamps and go on watching films of a similar style.

Wishing You The Very Best,

Sir Martin Narrod

I keep my family of conscience
I shred my folly of heir
In case of torment or fondness
I never wear underwear.

This is the crusty eye feeling when you first wake up
This is the summer time heat in the dead of the night
The kitchen light underneath your bedroom door when you're too scared to sleep
That "diamond" ring you got out of the 50 cent machine at the convenience store
The old veterans hat that you wore until you were 11 because you thought you were making a difference
The stinging feeling of getting your ears pierced by your best friend
This is the history books that bore you to death during class

This is not
I repeat not
About that pain you feel when you think of how many people die because suicide every ten minutes
This is not the spider weaving a home in the corner of your ceiling
This is not the uneasy feeling after a nap that was a little bit too long
The glass that ripped up your arms when you were in a head on collision at 17
The corner of cook and 12th street where you had your first kiss
The scared feeling of telling your parents you like the same gender as your own
The punches from that bully who takes your lunch money every morning

Sometimes I feel prehistoric
All of these memories that I will soon forget
Much like the mammoths did when they froze over

OFF THE COAST OF WRANGEL ISLAND

The room was a frozen
block of silence

the out-of-love lovers
like two hairy mammoths

trapped in the ice
of their shared hatred.

Thousand of years had passed
since they had last talked.

Preserved like two rare
artifacts in a museum.

This the "invisible land"
an island of mists and fogs.

They looked like bad
caricatures of who

they used to be
and who

they could never ever
be again.

*

Wrangel Island is an island in the Arctic Ocean, between the Chukchi Sea and East Siberian Sea.It lies astride the 180° meridian. The International Date Line is displaced eastwards at this latitude to avoid the island. Wrangel Island may have been the last place on earth where mammoths survived.

The island is subjected to "cyclonic" episodes characterised by rapid circular winds. It is also an island of mists and fogs and is known as the "invisible land."  In literature Jules Verne has his characters trapped on a floating iceberg near here and Cassandra Clare makes it  the seat of all the world's wards, the spells that protected the globe from demons and demon invasion.

She was as it happened was reading Jules Verne's novel 'César Cascabel" whilst he as it happened was reading Cassandra Clare's "Mortal Instruments: City of Heavenly Fir", both entirely different books but both featuring Wrangel Island. I delight in such happenstance and synchronicity. I only knew of it because of the mammoth found there with hair and muscle tissue and blood intact. I was fascinated with photos of it and there was one where a scientist was bending down looking at it on a bench and they were nose to trunk as if having a chat about the years in between that separated them. When I originally wrote the poem I was looking at them in the mirror of their big fat room with the thinest of windows when they thought they weren't being observed and it looked as if the mirror had painted their emotional state and that time hung suspended forever in that one moment. They both could dispute angrily or peevishly about their state whether it be in the voice or even in silent thought. I called them THE WRANGLERS after the mirror's painting of them. Or indeed THE WANGLERS because of their persistent arguing or manoeuvering the other into the worse position so that the other could take the lowish of moral high ground. It was a bit like observing trench warfare back in WW1.

And so it was through all this happenstance that I placed them off the emotional coast of a stormy isolated island...in some limbo "invisible land."

And as to the right or wrong of my two too human artifacts where right or wrong are not all that easy to place? As Michael Pollan puts it "… morality is an artifact of human culture, devised to help us negotiate social relations."

All I knew is that I sure as hell wouldn't want to be in their peculiar shoes or that particular hell.

The room was a frozen
block of silence

the out-of-love lovers
like two hairy mammoths

trapped in the ice
of their shared hatred.

Thousand of years had passed
since they had last talked.

Preserved like two rare
artifacts in a museum.

This the "invisible land"
an island of mists and fogs.

They looked like bad
caricatures of who

they used to be
and who

they could never ever
be again.

It has laid patiently in the recesses of my phone waiting for its day of glory. And 7 months of gestation has finally birthed diligence.
Besides it’s high time I tell this story otherwise I’m just going to (intentionally) forget and never write about it.

   * 11th Feb 2014 - 20th Feb 2014.

This isn’t merely an account of my journey to the beautiful south (my native) but also a personal record of my thoughts during my stay there. If things don’t seem to fit, you’re making the mistake to trying to make sense.

[raw/unedited - start of log]


!) *Getting there: Last night I opened the compartment door to an old man wetting himself with his lungi lying at his feet. Like a busted tap, trickling down his draws, he stood there in a decadent mix of ecstasy and shame.
I held open the door to let him pass.
I can’t say for sure if he saw my disgust seeping from the lines on my face, but I tried my level best to act indifferent. I am good at it.
Incapable of relieving oneself in one’s hour of need? I’d rather be dead. My stupid pride wouldn’t let me live another day.
The next morning we happened to get off closer to our destination than we intended. So did gramps. The stubborn mule, despite his aged regression and insanity wanted to get to the next platform by walking over the tracks. And like a Saturday night drunk he fell and laughed and drooled until he got what he wanted. **** me to hell if I see the day that I walk in those shoes.
There is nothing else I’d hate more.

@) There is where?: Welcome, this is day one. Boredom.
Stuck somewhere in the middle of ignorance and bliss. Con-*******-fused about my place here. It’s slow. Things are slow here. That much I know.

#) Blend: Sleepless smelly nights with the things that should not be. Asleep at last, half past 3. Awake again within 6 hours, no less, to a breakfast late enough to be breaking bad on me. Ants bit me, indigestion ****** me. Noises haunted, I was daunted.
Literally, everything is coconut oil. Last night it felt like a coconut took a crap in my mouth and its byproducts came out my rear end—or did they?

$) Relate: So I have a cousin sister here. Two actually and a handful of brothers too. I finally know something of the other side. I’m strangely liking this. Just knowing is enough it seems. I’m not a good brother.

%) Drift: A dead, calm, quiet night. The silence is almost overwhelming. Even the crickets can’t break through the static. [Sitting under a waxing moon on a lush green lawn surrounded by trees and vibrant silhouettes of the night sky] Such natural beauty freely available without demand. Who wouldn’t be lazy? The mosquitoes.
During the rains, the visual quality of this place reaches heavenly heights. And that should give you a fairly good idea of how stunning this place is the rest of the time. It’s only February.
If I lived here I’d never be the same. Good or bad? I choose not to wonder. But while I’m here, I’m going to soak all that I can in. I suddenly see so many different ways life could go by stepping out of my own comfort zone. It’s Ironic. But then all good wisdom is wasted upon amateur blabber that only soothes the soul momentarily. Nothing profound or earth shattering comes from the realization. Ah, there’s that comfort zone.

^) Halt: I can see why they call Kerala ‘God’s own country’, Because everything stays the same as though that’s how it was meant to be. 40 years or 50, makes no difference. The natural order of things here stays unchanged. It’s the opposite of how Bombay works. You can’t turn a blind eye for two seconds in fear of losing something that won’t alter your life inconsequentially. Yes.
Here, I could leave all my valuables outside the house for a week and no one would even bother. I may have exaggerated but not by much.

&) Eggo: This ‘person’ I’m with is insufferable. Good, great and jolly when HE chooses to be but a first class ******* the rest of the time. Makes me wish I wasn’t born to choke on his arrogance and idiocy. Whoever stuck that tree trunk up his *** must have had reasons I could relate with. This is all the love I can express. It’s hard to admire someone so narrow minded and primitive. I won’t lead, neither will I follow. Ego will meet eggo.

) No excuse: So I can be left at the table alone for as ******* long as it takes for me to finish, but for this man’s tantrums, for the impolicy his *lonely dinner creates (which he prefers, DAILY, back home) I have to oblige and start when he says so, only to have him leave when my plate isn’t even half empty, with a casual, “take your time” mental punch to the back of my head as though there’s nothing wrong with this whole ******* scenario.
Thankfully, all of this was succeeded by a full, beautifully bronze tinted moon floating in a cloudless ocean of sparkling diamonds and weeping crickets still struggling to overpower the silence; failing miserably.
I wouldn’t mind sitting here alone forever but alas, not all things are this easy. And this night will again wilt into day and the sad fight will spoil or be forgotten, conveniently. Eventually you learn, they all fester.

() Sugamano? (how are you?): My bowel movements have yet to reach an agreement with my diet. My cousin is going to teach me Malayalam through mail. Somehow I approve of this despite the several offers that I have declined from my friends in the past. Maybe I’m glad that my family just got bigger. It’s very important that I realize and cherish my ties. Who knows? I might end up being a nobody and moving here when I’m all withered and choked up with regret as a failure in denial.

!)) BAA BAA BOO BOO: My cousin’s kid. He looks a bit like me when I was that age. Wait, he isn’t even of age. He’s freaking 9 months and he’s crawling, rolling, slapping, pulling, strangling, screaming and imitating words people say around him that he can barely pronounce. I want to eat him. He’s cuter than anything I’ve ever seen. He’s gonna be a lady killer if he doesn’t go black (like most mallus do).

!!) Bliss: Classical night sky… Twinkles dance to the grand tune. Fireflies fall like stars, confusing senses to enthrall with exquisite precision. Feel the cosmos swallow thoughts and words as they mean nothing at all. If the sky shifted now, gravity would take a hike. And sooner than it takes for realization to set in, this world would become peaceful again.

!@) Role playing: The elephants are sight seeing on the backs of trucks. Humans are the escorts for these mammoths here. No more show business for these executives. They make sure the men serve as the slaves they own.

!#) Saving memories: I am a man who has forgotten how to smile. Even my tears can throw on a better performance for the mirror that breaks me. I have to force and instant’s glee to burst one out. I cannot hold joy as tightly as I do hatred or sadness. Family photos are the worst. I have to conjure a series of mental comical disasters only to maintain a smile that is fit for a *******. And that is on my best day. Every other day, however, it seems as though I’m constipated.
I spent the most awesome day today with my cousins who I barely knew 5 days ago. Although I haven’t spoken to them freely due to the language barrier it nevertheless feels like home. They’ve been thinking about me all the years we’ve been apart. Now it’s my turn to think about them. And it’s going to take quite a strong blow to the head to erase these wonderful memories I’ve had the pleasure of creating with them in my short stay here.

!$) Reasons: Valappad beach. If there is any place I would love to go to relax, to party, to be lost in thought and marvelous beauty for hours, to ******* OD and die, that would be the place. The beach stretches on forever. Horizon to horizon of clean white sand and foamy water. You could build castles as tall as skyscrapers in this sand. Gorgeous plantations just before on the shore line. Goa fails in comparison. With an enormous sky looming overhead and the ocean that appears to fall off the horizon you can’t help but wonder how such a natural work of art sustains itself. It doesn’t. The locals here do. All the trash from the beach is brought back inland so that there are no compromises with respect to visual ******. The ****** grains hug your feet and as soon as you hit the water you’re done for. It brings back a surge of euphoria that only your first spliff of hash would give you otherwise. I would give up the stash in a heartbeat for this fix. I wouldn’t mind being this high for the rest of my life.

[end of log]

I feel like a mammoth sometimes
stomping and clomping and trying to find
Where all the other mammoths went.

To hell with maintaining a fire just so faces could be seen.
I danced on the embers extinguishing little stars and I scribbled in my notes and waited for that one girl to shut up about Twitter and Halloween costumes so I could hear—

the fog dragging its tongue up the valley.

Finally she began to realize the contest she was losing,
took the quiet advice of myself and the wind and went
to go tuck herself
into the tent,
into the safety of ceiling.

But,
you and I
opted to be
coyotes on the hillside.

I took the trail away from our sleeping counterparts,
and flayed you on the dirt where I stripped you of your fur,
howling to the fog and plowing valleys in your flesh,
your legs grew into roots, and wove length by longer length
‘round all the sturdy angles, the anchors of my hips
and you, oh you,
you would **** the marrow from my bone.

And when we lay out, raw and steaming
knees bleeding from the drainage ditch,
a gnawing fades out, falls to dreaming,
we, peeling off a well-known itch.
Then we play a game with satellites
Where bouncing mirrors reflect our minds
And laugh when the reflections never fit.

I gather up my skin, step one foot in and
stumble when the tightness traps my leg,
You pin up your *******, to please our sleeping guests
that wouldn’t take to anything irregular.

On the upward hike ten million lights, ten million lives
herded on the table of L.A.
A Serengeti of fire, a mass migration;
mammoths marching, tusks dipped in flame

Sitting around campfires once taught vocal apes to rhyme
but a million conversations
bleaches each the other white
and now a million electric campfires
bleaches L.A.’s lower sky.

And though I stomped out ours
the ash remains a scar
where we had nearly forgot
how to speak by choosing to not.

To talk from a mouth that one does not recognize
No sound to be made from mammoths that lay dead
Frozen
Trading tokens
Wishing to God they'd made it
Just to see another day
The glory of the light is bright
Blinds many
Confuses millions
The flick of fish fins
Tiny is a world when the catastrophes escaped on waves of brilliant globalism makes ones that have never wept weep tears of experience and surprise and disdain and remorse and sadness and life and happiness and regret and money and love
A number that fits in the eyes of a spreadsheet
Is printed out, given away, thought about and thrown out
These are the hours of blistering heat that will burn the skin of a thousand innocents
While the many that have passed the threshold of human thought
Wish they had never lived this long
A feeling
That is a feeling that only comes once
That is thought and mused about
For the rest of one's life
Turning the makeshift bread that mother made
Hands clasped with never a word said
A debauchery of the common normalcy and currency of mankind
A farewell note to the wishing well of mystery
****** it to the dam, all throughout the land that produced these hands
A situation of uneasiness, invisible in form
Where wrong is translucent and seems incandescent
Beautiful in its magnitude but rotten to the core
Beating like the black heart of the devil that just chose not to fit in
A lonely kid
On a lone cloudy road
With no mother
Or no father to know
Sister said that the bed of the divine would soon be wed
But she fled
For something inside, something hard, a thing tasteless and way away
Made her feet twitch,
Her skin itch,
And her eyes swearing to head to a watery bay
Not a thing known
Nor a thing sworn
A ****** of  a metaphor and all the things they swore that'd bring you peace in school
Now makes you sit and in wonder of the feeling of the fool
And the pool
The magnificent embroided embarrassment swirling high
A home away from home
The listless endless womb
Whispering a name that is not known but known
Your bother in a brother
Your mother from a mother
All in a smother of delicate sprinkled lover's
A delicacy of infinity that burns bright, sits tight, talks in tongue, and is only seen in the one's with dangerous and lustful fun

7:30PM, October 9, 2015, 65*F, 10mph breeze, 5% humidity (somehow 10% where I was sitting), 50.0001% chance of rain, dark, cold, late, loud...I think that's enough. Alright! Spoiler alert, Birkston High won the game. If you simply have ears you've known that for a while (many of us who were at the game don't). All the people in Grenfolkshire were there, so there were some empty bleachers, but the Student section was full and lively, and did I say loud, because LOUD....! My ears were ringing (at a B8 note, for the musically overcurious people) for three days straight. I think it was a healthcare tactic, dare I say it. All those figurehead townspeople were there as well, like Mayor Arnofold Plattersbury with his orange jumpsuit, waving a pompom in the air like he just didn't care. Really, he didn't-I got whacked in the head with it eleven times. Recently, after taking a recent poll on the recent event, it was found that only about 35% of people really knew what happened, a number that has declined, recently. This very well is contributed to 1.) most of the people are there for the free food and don't exactly major in football 2.) teenagers are highly social creatures 3.) a bunch of hands in the air and six foot tall mammoths standing on the bleachers will tend to block the view of the people who are five foot small. The freshmen had a real problem on their heads. Nevertheless, the Wildcats found themselves with the bell for another year, whether they knew it or not. The Panthers found themselves nose-in-the-dirt, tail-dragging, while we found ourselves filing out like a herd of wild penguins onto the field.

Secretly I wish to be eaten by a dinosaur
But I lock my door, counter-intuitively
If it’s the right dinosaur, she’ll rip my roof off
While I’m listening to Sezen Aksu
Coo Coo Cachoo
Self-referencing echo-chamber of doubts
Dinosaurs, mammoths
I **** science

There is strength here.
Built in glaciers older than countries
Known only to cold seas
And the animals that thrive in the face of difficulty.
There is beauty here.
Reflected in water droplets that tear the light apart
We gaze upon the scattered remains and declare it a rainbow.
We're not wrong.
There is anger here.
You only have to watch the way the volcanoes erupt in fury
Or the water-bound tsunami who reaches for land but is banished to sea.
There is pain here.
Watch the way the Earth shudders, and the ground tries to hold itself together
And oil runs from water.
We call them immiscible.
There is violence here.
It inhabits the living and the still,
Tornadoes chase and throw and break
And guns scream
And the prey cry
And comrades become competitors
There is sorrow here.
You can hear it in the breaking of a voice from topic not age
And the way the rain cries down windows,
In the whimper of a sleeping child.
There is joy here.
You see it in the songs of whales and the chatter of dolphins
And the way the stars twinkle contentedly,
Find it in the breathy huff of a baby's first laugh.
Look for it in the secret smile that wasn't meant to be seen.
There is coldness here.
Not just the kind that makes exhibits of mammoths
But there is something in the look of a bigot,
The indifference of an eagle,
Something in the way ash falls slow and steady as it watches lava desolate a city.
There is life here.
In this world we do not limit living to survival
And we have a way of finding new ways to look at our world.
And though the mountain does not breathe it moves constantly.
Though leaves that left their trees are not green, they dance on the wind.
And even when we are gone we remain in memories and dreams
And artefacts, or speeches, or actions.
There are many problems here.
But we're trying to fix them.
This is a planet worth fixing.

A spontaneous late night poem for my brothers and sisters in nerdom.....

I am a mudcrab,
Strangely out of place,
Where is my mudcrab love?

My sweet and perfect crustacean,
Come with me to a cozy inn by solitude,
Or down a warm, golden, path to a city of talented thieves,
Lets chase foxes,
Make fun of guards,
And get away with ******,

Lets think we are clever by cutting through the marked path,
Only to be blocked by snowed on mountains sprouting,
Lets hug the left wall to find our way back,
And scare away monsters with words we hear dragons shouting,

Lets laugh at how the Jarl sits like a lady,
Lets gripe about how the Agonians don't look as cool as they should,
Lets say that all the Stormcloaks are crazy,
And hope that one day they make a Star Wars game this good,

But in the end,
My hard shelled friend,
Lets return to our beloved swamp,
Where the giants and their mammoths don't stomp,

Lets gaze up at a sky that's not our own,
And count up our perks to show each other how much we've grown,
Since Helgen fell, and life was hell,

Lets share this road,
And be happy to note,
That at least we're no longer alone.

~Dovahkiin

Scratching at veneer,
prying pillars
off the tower buried
climbing high.
Endure.

Creating past frames
of doubt, of rationale
on the tower buried
climbing high.
Stain.

Squatting inside
senile mammoths, gnawing mules lie,
strip-mine brilliance
for harpoons
in the tower buried
climbing high.
Besides…

That rope is tied to our waist/waste,
tangled mess.
Heaving barbed streamers
into tight corners
through windows
that maul the sky.

I've given in
Giving you this in

Black and white

Kinda floundering
Finding
Not a rainbow
Near me
The magic is lost
Fearingly

Like ghosts
These illustrations
Of the heart

The gifts missed
From distances
In **** tube dreams
Boxed in
When we give a ****
Only now in this century
Twenty first class
Calamities

Our oceans dying
Malformed embryonic cells
Of sea shells
She sells to the sea shores
Supply and demanding
Foodies going for sushi
Tuna rolls not in season's
Greatest catch
Babies of King *****
Vegas Buffets
(Hashtags hazmat)

Overpopulation
Cities bowdlerizing nature
Iron teeth
Skyscrapers
and weeee!
All Are wanting,

Hunting, stunting, grunting
Undaunted
We sport full
Stadiums like
flagella

Single cell organisms
Goliath

mammoths now we mount,
Life best preserved in ice
Gene spliced
Playing dice
A stadium obese
With single minded
Bacterium

Gone viral

Vanities and victory
Of youth wasting time
Herding sheep
Mastering a perfect sling / swing
Knowing where to aim

Without fame
Without fail
Twix the eyes
The larger will fall

When it begins to hail
Gray
desert granite
Rocks
Throwing, rolling
Stones
on high
Or from below
Mantle, plates
Tectonics
Floods
Don't wait for names
The Hurricanes
Categorically mad
A High five

Climate changes cataclysms
Undoubtedly
No need
For
Catholicism catacisms
Or celebrations for
Dunking drowning
Under Christian steeples
Luke warms
Water

Ceremonious
Ways to cleanse

Drink and capitalize,
Divide their minds
As conquered

The fountains
We deny our youths
By learning only
Monkey see monkey doo
Masses
Congregation
A peaceful gathering

Recitations
Incited legions
Again again
religions own
What we believe

Schooled by whom no one knows
The vicarious
Malleable history

proof defining

The shapable feast of mean
and meaning...

Since it has been
All about
**** / Black or white
Just a reminder
Reminiscing
from a loss
Rather than reason
as one family,
Much more loss will
Fill your glass
But let me remind you
That thirst cannot be quenched
With empty

Actions speak
peacefully louder
When words
lift
Up like into laughter
No news of war to speak of pastor

When a summer day
In black AND white
Is still beautiful
In the shades and rays
Of a Polaroid
Picture of the day
Star : Sun,
In black and white
Still
Is bright

When the sky looks
Drab in
Gray...

The cage bird sings
The rainbows
Bright
Soul that flows a river

The living day
                   song of words

Utmost
Hearts
The Beloved

poetry
Of
The truth
When we chose

To give love
The life

Our world
Balances...

Even in black & white, I see  
The rainbow wave

               In the sky dances.









**(Continue into poetry about that universal
Ideal or melancholy, represented by the color
Gray feelings or the visits into gloamings and
Mists of dreamy worlds that host the ghosts of
Our downward spirals and dismay... The I between
Stranger things and sorrows heavy feeling, familiar
Or alien, gray as multiplcitous a color, it's shades
Of Heaven or bones, paint by writing
your feelings down, show me all or none,
Your neglected shades... The darkest to light.
Tell me how your gray turned white)

The tears of eagles
Swallowed the beast on the ground
Dragons comes out
Chain becomes loose
The sky becomes reddish
And cloud likes gold

Blood paint the ground
While hills erupted
They are soaks with ashes
Blue Whale Awakes
As the Dragons trembling

Land turn into ashes
Swallowed by the great waves
Storms and thunders strikes
While the mammoths crawled

I filled it then spilled it.
Think I'll quit so I can quilt it.
Some kind of design that reflects this patchwork mind.
You might laugh or cry,
but it'll keep you warm either way.

I didn't even feel like being awake today.
Had a dream where I crawled through dinosaur ****.
Stegosaurus didn't see me coming,
but he was still prepared for it.

Woke up only to take a shower.

I've got about six hours 'til I have to be at work again.
I'll just daydream about poaching mammoths,
and pretend I have friends.

Do you think cavemen used to run through fields
feeling the rush of wind on their face
and the joy of being alive?

Do you think they jumped on each other's backs
And splashed each other with water?

Did they smile and glow just like we do
during a fit of tickles?

Or did they just **** mammoths
and draw cave art?

Standing on the edge of life
An edge to a great ocean
High up in the mountain
I stand crystal clear
But as cold as ice
My mind buried deep in stars
As a million winters collect
In my frozen belly
As I seek to thaw
My many icy layers
That separate me

Deep hidden strength sits in me
As ancient Mammoths
Preserved and buried
Frosted over , deep in ice
So let me wake these
Ancient beasts
Lying dormant
As I drive through
The torrid snow
The ice separating me
With these ancient beasts
I push against my
******* forces

Great stresses and forces
Conspire all around me
As they seek to
Twist and tangle me
But I am the King of escapology
As Houdini has nothing on me
As many forces locks and chains
Collapse around me
I just silently slip away
So I invite this world
To do its very worst
As there is not a box or barrel
That I can not escape

As I stand in my crispy coolness
I hear the silence
Of many hearts
As they all sing in chorus
REJOIN US , REJOIN US
As have I forgotten
The value of melting
As I stand tenderly waiting waiting
On the edge of life's richness
As I carry with me
All bravery of the most
Delicate crocus flower
As it keenly breaks
The winters snow
Waking the silent forest
It celebrates all that is new

Seeking now to live life
As freely as a fish
I am carried in the ocean
Almost weightless in this world
As I strip down my hidden parts
And loose all eye lashes
As I embrace this world
There is no need to hide
As I slip sleekly into
This vast ocean
Far away from buried self
The hermit in me
Seeking to almost loose myself
In the much buried love
Lying deeply in all hearts

My flower beds now released
From the deadly sleepy snow
I sew new wild pansies
Lets bring on the show
As all is embraced
By rejoining the  ocean

In the ice age
Russia
The people
Chase mammoths
But the chase
And **** unicorns
For their magic
As that winter is
Bleak.

The cities have called me.
Drawn me in, with promises of a new start.
The skyline littered with steel mammoths.
A new stadium that points to a bright future.
I almost didn't answer.

Yicketty Yack his loaded knuckles snap
with each invasive step he takes
towards bringing the daisies back.

Like a Gorilla dragging a bag of prolific
back up to the front of the line like,
"Look here, Mom, we made it this time!"

Young blood bloated dumb,
can't you hear them humble drums
droning on from the swampy slums?

Here we are! Final Stop! The point where four corners of the earth converge in preparation of the coming plunder.

It's a wonder for the poodles to ponder.
But why bother when every ounce of effort conjured turns into cannon fodder for those pesky mammoths ripe with Karma?

Fragility,
It's like a house of cards
No matter if gold or paper
All it takes is just a gentle gust,
A fragile touch
And you break down into oblivion.
Fear,
It's like ripping two conjoined twins apart
An ant on an island stark
Of mammoths.
Pride,
A drop of blood on a napkin it tries
To drench it red like a cherry
Only to find it soaked and dry
A stone's throw for a falling berry
Love,
It is but a red shade still
Of a stretching meadow of daffodils
On a small hill
Red shade of the sky and red shade of sun
Red colour of flowers
and a RED fragrance.

While crying in the moonlight,
The tears of icy cold.
Snow fallen lies surround me,
Trading rice for dirtied gold.

They know I have a weakness,
Achilles’ tendons found.
Fighting in my own Antietam,
Ignore the bloodied ground.

As one things ends another comes,
Start as I end another shift.
Feel so small in your surroundings,
Mammoths in the continental drift.

Buried in the secrets,
Not everybody knows.
Climbing Mount Everest in the winter,
Snow shoots back just as it goes.

Grasping hands I always miss,
Warming fingers turning blue.
True, I could not help me,
But I won’t make the same mistake with you.