what did it take for me to miss those days?
crawling breathless,
stomach nails for breakfast, ventricles of rust,
pounding on my ribs with any upright task
from soaking bed delirium,
corroded mind and eyeballs
tortured falun dafa tears
stinging on the walls a glowing red,
my branching veins encasing me in flaming
paths of mystery: to live or die, to try or fail
at simple efforts
--never gone without, since infanthood--
to stand itself a tissue horror
bathing in the needles of another lifeform's hold on me,
that spiral nesting multitasker
legions in the joints,
invading forces claiming spinal tower-riches
as if my thoughts will be my last,
originary flickerings of self, sacked and razed,
the burning out of novelty for bottom emptiness
and only sympathies malinger there--
yet vaster frame invisible to healthy eye emerged:
a sea, empathic with my prior paths from health diverged:
adrenal waves and dolphin plays of other air ensouled i purge
with cascade urges tension mixing universal breath
of statements, fears and wry coercings not to think of death
or tempting near the abolition of a system *****
for all the benison it's bound to store for years
of hiding blind and uttering the shield-word
of our sly, superficial, group-stock lies,
to have us screaming at each other out of only kneejerk love
a mask of fodder from our young dogmatic wanderings
they burn and burn and choke like spirochetes themselves
while shoving under family rugs the truth

cicada shells clung eerily against the burls and branches
of a monumental tree itself a deathly symbol bare of green
like ornaments of rhythm upsurge birthing into death digest
the exoskeletal remains, under finger crunched as
up the bark i climbed
to view what death had taken value on for me, and balanced
up atop the hill of faded names i yearned the meanings of,
and in the clouds
a part revealed
a sunny mist,
to paint me colorful again--
and in that mood a hail began to tick on forest floor:
the brittle dead a singing whisper flaking brown
on brown, on earthy brown to gather white within the paper nooks of leafy drums

how whimsically to service death
anon anon for now they're always lying there
across the road atop the grave hill,
from other species hunted here
but this, that time it was a carved skull
hacked or sawed but yards from peaceful temple yard
another, cleaner omen skull had led me there,
ochre red with emerald mold
the cranial pale divided stop and go
and led me wondering within the stream
to notice other signs i half-expected mystically:
surreal blood abundantly with vulture feathers carpeting the scene:
a stag with missing brain, missing hind and organs
chosen how, i'd never know
--i saw the arrow though, a barb of certainty--
and old fur, gray and white, a timely passing then,
to make of gore a sacred right,
and in hale ignorance i prayed like only atheists can pray
with self-disclaiming smirk but
humble authenticity of unknown forces
biding in the impulse-meaning-gathering of earth,
now memory to glean and hold to live in me

I hear the world is full of pain,
Flooding, terror, acid rain;
Music, theatre, laughs and art,
Whiskey, coffee, beer and darts,

Rainbows, glaciers, hiking trails;
Rare Pepes and EPIC FAILs,
Overwatch and Pokemon Go;
Donald Trump and Bernie Bros;

Dreams, and Drugs, and Rock n' Roll,
Dharma, Love, and the eternal soul,
The Holy Quran and the Higgs boson
Tajwid in Geneva, QFT in Tehran.

Yet day by day I sit and type
Edit, grep, compile, pipe
All  that a system smoothly might run
Ashes to Ashes, Zero to One

'''
npm install; grunt &; restart nginx
docker run -d me/interests; pkill sleep; pkill ***
nice 14 nutrition; rm /etc/cron.daily/exercise
pkill -STOP judgment; scp foodler:'**/{burger,fries}' ~
'''

It's rather ironic that this metal you see,
Seems quite a better multitasker than me
Whereas It stops its world to switch one task for others
My open descriptors always overflow my buffers

Whereas it take new patches with a simple 'apt-get'
My resolve for upgrades I quite often forget
And when its health checks fail, we regrow the ASG
But my self won't reboot. et memento mori.

Uncle Mike was heading south
To Jamaica he would head
With the amount of hair that poor Mike had
He could only have one dread

A conference for his workplace
A nice resort and lots of sun
Mike was set to go an party
He would work and have some fun

But if you've read my other poems
Mike is not ...well, tuned in
You see his trip was almost over
Before it even did begin

The day that he was leaving
Mike was notified by mail
He needed a new photograph
For his ID card....no fail!!!!

He was already at his hotel
When the notice came to say
You must send us a photo
Or you can't come here to play

He bought himself a camera
A poloraid and then
He tried to take a picture in his room
A true multitasker among men

He put the camera on the hutch
Bent a hanger down to length
And then he tried to push the button
but, the hanger didn't have the strength

He knocked the camera all about
Taking pictures of the walls,
One picture of the tv set
And four photos of his *****

This would be a no go
He had to ask someone instead
How do you ask a stranger
Take my photo on my bed?

He made the plane to Kingston
Found the hotel, settled in
Now, Mike was in Jamaica
And the real fun would begin

On my shoulder a heap of garment
In two hands two birded cage
In my mind time management
That I love to do with craze!

List of my works to do
Keep growing in a hellish way
Clipping nails polishing shoe
Time is too short for one day!

When to do them you may ask
If all loose ends I’ve to tie
So I take up multitask
There’s not even time to die!

At 8.30 her medicine
9 I must run the pump
I must keep my cheek trim clean
Traitor time not run but jump!

With one hand I push toothbrush
With one eye I keep check on milk
Alertness aids in the morning rush
Time’s too alert for you to bilk!

Stairs to climb windows to open
Pluck some flowers from back garden
Time autocrat hears no bargain
Slow down a bit get a big burden!

I’ve to make time to blow her a kiss
Will be away whole day she’ll miss
While I peck I hold a biscuit
For the dog at the door badly needs it!

I don’t ever think time kind to me
Give me respite a little time free
But chase it hard without relent
A multitasker bent on time management!

*In this thankless pursuit I can’t tell thee
If I manage time or time manages me
But one thing sure I make time on bed
For not just love but what cooks in head!

Whisk the eggs
But don’t burn
The waffles.

Asha - Ray of Sunshine, hope is her name, she loves to dance, forever young and has a beautiful heart

Pallavi- A beautiful flower, lovely smile, deep thoughts, brownies and chocolates, her recipe to melt hearts, dance her passion, master at her craft

Neeta-  Naive and lovely, with an innocent smile, positivity her armour, she is quite a charmer

Sapna - Bakes most lovely cakes, red lipstick, vermillion dot on her forehead, a trademark, wears her heart on her sleeve, full of love, she extends it to every soul, Punjabi her style, Patiala heart(big heart)

Pradnya- Sweet as saccharine, she knows a lot, sure a woman of substance, wisdom her charm, dances to the tune of her heart

Sajeeda- Versatile personality, a multitasker, holds her goals clear and achieve she does, has keen eyes for quality and performs her best, quite an angel when it comes to taking broken ones under her wings. She has the will power which keeps her going, when the going gets rough. A brave heart, and a wandering soul, searching for heights and higher self. A go getter, with a never say never attitude. Has weathered a few storms. A wonderful person with a tough outer shell and a warm heart beneath

Bijal-  Happy go lucky, warm and affectionate, friend of friends. Ever smiling, never a frown on her brows
Breezes in with a jovial chime

Neelakshi-  Creative and wonderful, she knows the law, cool as ice, her heart warm, dances her heart out, even when a bit down
Goes with the flow and knows what she does, crystal clear in her views.
Jovial and throws caution to the wind

best of liars
worst of women
haunted soul-child
death a'kindred

never answering
always asking
chronic idler
multitasker

using borrowed
nothing youthful
no more time left
no more fruitful.

They used to say
That you are disorganised
That your notes don't have order
That you get confused at times
That you mix up things
And I used to defend you
Out loud and in my head

I used to say
That you are a busy woman
That you are a multitasker
That you juggle alot at once
That you are ambitious
That you have so much going on
That you work hard and long
That's how I wanted to see you

But even as I defended
I knew it was true
I just didn't want to hear it
In my head you were super woman
I saw you in ways they didn't
I knew you a little more than they did
And I believed in you even more
Some thought you were my mother
Yes, in a way you mothered me
In a way my own wouldn't