The globalization  
Once thought to be an important aspect
To connect the world, to diverse the world
Has been only a part success
And a success to be, of course

Success in the meaning
People are connected
In the enchanting world of ours
Rising the common world consciousness
Rising and rising and rising
A day by day and day
The knowledge domain Has been a gigantic trip
A profoundly majestic experience uplifting people remarkably
All over the world in a way diminishing the differences
Differences humans suppose to believe
Differences that drew humanity backwards
The differences mostly set by identitities
Identities in terms of nationality
In terms of religion
In terms of caste and creed
As we observe differences softening them boundaries
A good thing as seen
Manifested due to globalization
Only possible due to global reach
Just possible due to connection in large scale

Diminishing are those differences as they don’t fit
Don't fit to the consciousness of the world
To the rising consciousness of the world now
More the fire it sets the plank to burn faster
Happening for good for sure, I believe

On the contrary differences too
In the verse of diminishing the truth
It contradicts the positivity
As see in the world today is extremism
Yes extremism happens to exist
If it exists for a long period
A whole long period of time
In the years to come
Is definately calling for absurdity
Which humans may not want to percieve


The adversities of the impact of globalization
Has been leading a chance for the high level corporates
In the world to have access to the market place
All over the world
Leading to a state of consumerism
To the people
People becoming more and more consumers
They are being brainwashed
For them to buy goods
That global industries produce
People are running after the products
****** consumers
****** sheeps
Those multinationals
And shark headed corporates
Are producing and manufacturing
The high headed corporates
The pigs are manipulating
Are brainwashing people
The sheeps are diverted towards it
The people
The only agenda is to gain more
And more profit only
By making the people slaves of themselves
And slaves of their products

And believe it
Coke and Pepsi may be
Right hand and a left hand
But the Coke and Pepsi both are the same
The very debate which is better is
Helping the corporates to sale more
By making the people brainwashed
Consumers
Sheeps
Brainwashed
In a sense they are enjoying
The debate they argue upon
And they are unaware
And they are manipulated
Knowingly and unknowingly
More often knowingly
****** sheep slaves

Another adjoining thing
most of the governments in the world
Are being run by the aid
Of the corporates
Only have a selfish agenda
And strategy to sale
Products, thoughts and  philosophy
More and more and more
****** pigs
Brainwashing minds of the people
The sheeps
Having a streak of global consumerism
Selfish bunch of pigs
And the brainwashed sheeps

Say hell ya
Fking hell ya
Fk off
Get out'a here
****** freaks
Pigs and Sheeps

You've been together for almost a month now
It's time that you shared this with friends
But, beware of the wolf in sheeps clothing
Because this is how most friendships end

You feel it is time to expose him
To your friends and to let them all in
But, beware of the wolf in sheeps clothing
He's the original purveyor of sin

You've opened the door to the hen house
There's a fox running lose in the pen
You opened the door to the hen house
He will feast and return to his den
You opened the door to the hen house
You've let him meet your girl friend
You opened the door to the hen house
Now the fox will run wild till the end

Your girlfriends all think he is ****
He laughs when they laugh and you too
But, do you know of this wolf in sheeps clothing
and just exactly what he plans to do

He flirts and he turns down advances
He smiles and he's light on his feet
but remember the wolf in sheeps clothing
Is busy picking which one he shall eat

You've opened the door to the hen house
There's a fox running lose in the pen
You opened the door to the hen house
He will feast and return to his den
You opened the door to the hen house
You've let him meet your girl friend
You opened the door to the hen house
Now the fox will run wild till the end

He may be the one you've been wanting
But, in truth, he's not really the one
Deep down, he's a wolf in sheeps clothing
And he's only out looking for fun

He fooled you and used you for pleasure
He'll move on, when you say settle down
Remember, he's a wolf in sheeps clothing
He's the king and he wears the crown

You've opened the door to the hen house
There's a fox running lose in the pen
You opened the door to the hen house
He will feast and return to his den
You opened the door to the hen house
You've let him meet your girl friend
You opened the door to the hen house
Now the fox will run wild till the end

You're sitting in the hospital bed.
You're smiling but you're crying.
You're telling the nurses over and over and over
"He's not a bad person."
"I don't want you to think he's a bad person."
"He didn't mean for this to happen."
(Just like, later on, you have to tell your friends and his friends and your family and his family the same things)

They shake their heads at you, but smile and squeeze
Your hand or shoulder comfortingly.
You won't realize this until later,
But you were so far in denial
And everyone knew it.

You're in your new therapists office.
He's asking you to recall a time men didn't scare you.
You smile and say,
"What? Men don't scare me."

He frowns and reaches for a tissue,
And you flinch.
His frown deepens as he hands you the tissue,
You realize you've been crying for the entire session.

It's the day before your anniversary with him.
You've been fighting for the whole week.
You just want to talk to him,
Figure out why he's so mad at you.
Why he keeps taking it out on you.

So you bring it up,
While you try to prepare dinner.
Knowing that if you say the wrong word,
You might have to figure out a new place
To sleep for awhile.

He says something, stands up.
You're thinking the whole time:
"How did it get this bad?
What did you do wrong this time?
Why do you always do this?"
You flinch.
Your back is against the stove that you haven't turned on yet.

There's a flare of anger and pain in his eyes
As he tells you,
Trying not to yell,
"I won't hurt you!"

You realize that you're scared of him.
That you're not just in this relationship because you love him.
You're there because you fear him.

And you think to yourself
"How can I be so stupid?
I was in the last one because I was afraid.
I wasn't in love.
But I love him.
Why am I scared of him?
He won't hurt me."

But he gets mad, and slams things.
Hits himself.
And you realize it's because he won't hit you.
But he wants to hit you.

Things only ever get worse,
And sooner or later
Due to his friends advice,
You leave for two days
To give him some space.
He says he'll pick you up,
That Sunday from your friends house.

He arrives on Sunday, a little over an hour late.
He hasn't spoken to you all weekend.
You want to attribute the fear to your abuse and anxiety.
But when he shows up,
He brought most of your things.
He breaks up with you on her porch,
With cliches like
"We met at the wrong time."
"It's not you, it's me."
"I don't want this to be the end."

And you realize,
He's just painting himself as the good guy.

But he's not a good guy.

Because the one time you were honest with him
About how bad you were getting,
And you weren't even there for it because you black out when overwhelmed,
He used it so he could be the victim.
Twisted it so the suicidal girl had to comfort him because it made him lose trust in you.

And he's telling and told all his friends
That you use your mental illness
To manipulate him.

And you want to scream at him,
Because you've never done that.
He's used his everything
To twist you up.

You should have run for the hills the moment he got mad
At you for having an anxiety attack in the car
In public,
Saying
"I hate when you do this. It makes other people think I abuse you."

Because that was the moment
He probably realized he was doing exactly that.

And you should have run as far as you could,
Because that was two months before it ended,
And it only got worse.
He only got worse.

And you shouldn't have stayed,
Because he was this way from the beginning.
He has thin skin and angers too easily.
Would throw grown-up tantrums
When something went wrong
When you told him he was wrong
Or told him he hurt you.

You should have run.
You should have cut ties.

Love cannot heal someone
Who doesn't want to be healed.

And he didn't heal you
He made you worse.

But he won't be the one to break you.

Because a wolf in sheeps clothing
Will always be just that.
People will see the sheep
That sometimes gets a little too close
To the meat at dinner,
That sometimes disappears.

And a rescue dog
Will always have that pain,
But that doesn't mean you can't be happy
One day.

And that wolf in sheeps clothing,
He promised he wasn't a wolf.
He promised he wouldn't do this.
That he was just a sheep.
But what do promises mean
To monsters
Anyway?

It hides, hoping not to be seen
Preys on the innocent life
No one can tell it has been
It cuts into you like a knife

Secrets are kept from you
What others fear to tell
You want to hear what is true
Because you have been to Hell

They make friends into enemies
Because no one likes to say
Finding out, the soul empties
The coldness never goes away

Why did they not tell you from the start
And keep what they knew to themselves
It would have stopped a knife to the heart
It would have released hidden jars from the shelves

The wolf would have been outted long ago
Then this shiver would not run down my spine
I feel like I was the last one to know
If only someone had given me the sign

So let us put an end to wars that never should be
Let that wolf in sheeps clothing be exposed
Join as we were before, a friend and ally
Let this knowledge you share be imposed

The truth needs to be heard, to be shared
Because the rest of us will listen, will hark
Let the ****** be seen, let it be scared
Shine light on that kept in the dark

Penaltypitstop looks
Pretty ha ha, a joke
No ! , penaltypitstoplooks
Out to the great outdoors
Through the kitchen window
Almonds in glorious bloom
Majestic Cyprus at attention
A huge don't know what
Others lurk here and there
Blue sky with a hint of cloud
BUT, and this is a big BUT
Sheeps , yes , yes many sheeps
A German friend thinks
Sheeps is the plural of sheep
Oh well , words are words
These sheeps are not allowed
To be seen , out of my window
Someone without sense
Has left ,A ****** gate open
I'll get changed into 'Superwoman
RIGHT , here I am, and there they are
GONE !WHAAAAAT, I checked
Some kind person , has flocked them back
PHEW !

Grey
Black
White
I put on shy colors
Over an overbearing personality
Having a dash of excitement in shoe colors
I step to my own individuality

I pray to my Lord; as the prey in this crazy
world, dressed in sheep's clothing of all
those wolves.
All lurking around with no good.

Shepherd guide me; I don't always know
where to go. Staff of mercy; disciplines hurt
of the rod, but keeps me on my track to God.

Teeth marks; and ****** holes in my leg,
went chasing on greener pastures. But instead;
I was caught down on my defence.
Wolves only see red; as they have their prey out as
a spread.

The prey prays not to be prey; by the longest
prayer of all the sheep's prayers.

It is but a deficient herdsman who would fault his sheeps,
For flocks are lead to their own devices.

There are moments where the sheeps are really wolves in a sheep cloak,
And certain sheeps willfully follow the deceitful to undesired ends.

So it seems with current waves of the ocean of information,
And controlled emotions of media perpetuated fairly tales.

Rather become very bored of reality television,
Illusions of images worse than plastic material.

What is left of this world still organic,
And ideals like a scent of dawn?

I for one choose not to play any of their monopoly, risk, or stratego,
But embrace the incoming storm and play in the rain.

Windex mice squeak through the windows,
biting newspaper as it scrapes across.

Soap from a new age fills the kitchen,

sheeps' fat long forgotten,
the sod-house of Laura Ingalls Wilder left behind
with its crumbling Lincoln logs,
the ceiling that drops dirt crumbs like a gritty pastry.

Our world is shiny,
so blinding that even the cough of newsprint makes it brighter.

A bottle sneezes across the counter, spurts those
bubbles of ammonia, gathers with the
rivers and tides that surge with ethanol,

it bursts the air with a neon smell and erases
everything that has come before.

I knew a wolf who dressed like sheep
with smiling eyes and hidden teeth.
Calmly through the flock he'd step.
Preaching life, and meaning death.

Once upon a dreary day,
he found a lamb who'd gone astray.
Lined with silver was his tongue,
a spectacle for one so young.

Nearly at the speed of light,
the wolf sprang forth and made his strike.
And not a sheep would hear the crunch,
of the wolf, enjoying lunch.

The lamb it was a good
friend, always there when
the rumors spread, the lies
were like a virus that spread
through out my friends.

It made me think it was a friend,
when I was shunned by those
who were meant to be friends.
But I saw a tooth in this lamb it
left scratches on my mind.

I was on the hunt for truths
that lay hidden, and then the
lamb was reviled to be a wolf
preying on those around it
turning friend against friend.

Always there for me but was
whispering lies and being there
for other friends, it showed
its true face with a smile its
teeth did show and the claws
were in everyone each others friends.

It howled with glee at what it had
done, thinking it was a lamb a friend,
but was a wolf what prayed upon the
weakness of its prey, for we were the
lambs, and it left to hunt for new pray
never was it seen again..

Sometimes i wonder,
Wondering wonders of wonderful
World,for i living in this awful
World,spiral of life with terrific
Surroundings.

Unholy acts to the victims of
Xenophobic attacks,violence
Turns an everyday speech.
Government revolts gathers.
Towards poverty-stricken.
Diseases classic collide,remittance
Assassins rendered for intensely
Militancy.

Objection!!my lord,
Shysters bailing out
Evil-doers,juridical system
Not pertained.Poverty-trap
Pounding,chemical gases
Filling lungs of little
Ones.

Somebody play nice to
This,God play part to
This,denote dualism of
Good and evil.
Yesterday they gang banged
One of your children.
Drugs co-operate infection of
Young minds,youth gangsterism
Uproar.

Father herd your sheeps
To the right path,we seek
Guidance from above.
Family horror-strucks unites,
Matrimony rending day by
Day,onto religion segregations
Strickes by ??????.

Keep holy to this life Life
Testimony and paste
Amen...

Sitting in labyrinths of cobblestone intestines
I’m learning to eat the entrails of sacrifice
only domestic, never hunted.
pick up spoon. put down
put down. put-down.
pick up. um . spoon.
um… putdown.
there are motions for eating and I do them.

soothsayer, look down
pay attention to positions, shapes
knife. butter. um…
bread. no. breadth.
better. no. butter-better.  focus.
knife. better. bread.
knife, knife of haruspex. knife breadth.
okay… deep breath.

I have divided the livers
and the watchers of victims.
I have written on
the anomalies in my bronze living,
what I should look for,
what they should allow for.
my protruding viscera,
my ancient autopsy of starving.

Starving made me easier to tie.
easier to lift. made me feel
gutted out like finished
ice-cream containers
but, starving made me
full of household gods.
made me divine. made sheeps fly.
made days disappear and made cold cold cold seem like
simmering. made staying out of sight a piece of cake.
cake. starving made me rich when I found little
boys betting quarters for eating bowels of
goats. made me small enough to fit through
playground gates so I could swing
swing in earthquakes, and portents.

now, I listen to Memor, a man
who knows nothing of starving
talk about how starving I am.
tomorrow I have to advise
tomorrow I have to weigh
tomorrow I have to swallow
tomorrow I have to
tomorrow I have
tomorrow I am half

and starving made me whole.

there was a lonely poet
who bled his sonets to the imaginary Muse
he had never met
and gave it read to the  outcast
he met hanging on the streets and some bars..
once he met there a goddess-like looking femme
wholy destitute, he imediatly felt in love
love to the marvelous *******
it was love from first glance

yes, she was a harlot
who is usually  short on time
he somehow managed
to afford her time
in motel
with blind windows
he came
and said her he want just
drink with her wine
on what, she wanted to throw him away
but he trembled by every nerv
and she said ok,
I will meet you after work
we will drink tea
she denied the hand reaching her money
and in two hours they met again

the man shined radiant
like he catched blue bird
she was tired she asked him
what do you want?
He tell, I want paint you in words
Not for you give me a kiss
Nor for you answer on my instant love
I love you just because I dont know you yet...
she laughed...
well, ok..
you wish to know me
out to touch me?
say, why are you so afraid?
He tald,   Oh, no, I afraid nothing,
since i have nothing to loose..
but in this life I feel the immerse grief..
my mother will never love me
in the way I need
said he, and tear shed on his cheek..
the mistress looked full of intimidation on him..
she seems never sow the man tears..
and he cried suddenly so bitter that she
fehlt eerie,
this big child touched the long forgotten string of her
heart and she also began to cry..
so they cried together  quite long time
poet took her hand
and they tenderly interwined the fingers..
she said, I didnt cried for eternity,
I thought all my feelings are dead.
My mother never loved me too
but because of this i never cried or fehlt any regret...
you are so vulnerable, my stranger..
you awaking me feel something beside
my only fact, that  I am luxurious toy for the spity men
let me show you my very ****..
you will perhaps recognise that I cant be your girl...
I didnt deserve this tender tears
I am Alaska, I am numb, cold, yet I am ok with that.

No, please, dont speak bad of yourself,
I will write for you funny poems
about wolfs, sheeps, dogs and cats..
your heart will slowly melt and mend,
you will again feel and may be one day
you will let you be my lovely concubine...
I joke, he added..

but howeverwhy.. god works on mysterious ways..

since that day poet find his true muse
and she, with her wanton delight, find a waiter for her sleeping heart
this is of cause just a fairytale, but somewhere near or far away
somewhere may be it happened in real life.

I am a little prince
Living on a planet
Far too small for you to see
Here is a million stars
But a single flower
To spend all the sunsets with.

Bussinessmen and Tippler's words
They sound as I'm left by birds
With a friend to
Forever last.
And if I could make you mine
You say there's one last goodbye
For you and me
To get past.

What if I didn't care
Would the tress out-grow me?
And sheeps eat my little rose?
Being old is to count
Everything that matters
Grown-ups they're all too weird.

A lamplighter lights the fire
A man lives by his desire
A prince has tamed a fox
'cause his heart is enough.

But now I have to leave
To my little planet
I think someone there needs me.

In this world full of chaos
I try to find solace
I try to find peace

In a place
Where there are foxes everywhere but no sheeps
I try to find a soul who is same as me

In this world of  fake smiles and cunning minds
I try to find someone divine
Someone with a sacred soul and a beautiful mind

Stupid Detective!
Mixing up the evidence
Loony Detective!
Helping the culprit
with bad conclusions
and your overall confusion
Bad detectiv!
your senses are defective
it shows!
it shows!

At the crime scene
the vanilla ice creme
was fine
and yellow like a dandelion
though ****** had taken place
a stupid detective
a messed up place
could you please just buck up
and find  a trace

Lame Detective!
You are the one to blame
you put Watson to shame
Shameful detective!
respect this
the law
the civilians
and all their fears
Blank minded detective!
Heavey minded detective!
Blinded detective!
falling to sleep
like all the other sheeps

At the crime scene
the vanilla ice creme
was fine
and yellow like a dandelion
though ****** had taken place
a stupid detective
a messed up place
could you please just buck up
and find a trace

Sweetbitter kiss caressed
lips. esophagus. stomach. chest.

inaccessible 'till death.
untouchable--so close to the chest.

unable to put out fires, burns
will have to rest
where they lie smoldering, watching
eyes walk bye.

I close my I.

Carry me, now--not home
not to neverland
not over the rainbow

Just carry me softly in sweet-smelling acidic things.
--a little corrosion does a girl a world of good--
sing me songs, wolf-in-sheeps-clothes, that my mother used to

and bring me gifts on angel-dusted wings,
nothingness never before made greater feeling.

Our lives themselves strived for meaning while we strived for the reason for being
the way the great cold faceless hands created
our unyielding . . . softness
separate from and not unlike a feather
equal both in whimsical light, lack of value, disease and helplessness
great beauty, plainness, and utter insignificance

Us little things are great only to those with great imagination--
light in the clouds,
break in your fever
blip on your radar
the fast one before the flatline always seems so much shorter than it should. Shorter than they said it would.

I relax
sweet relief
sweet goodnight

we'll wake up and try this one more time.
we won't get it right-- you can't
get it right

give me this bip, this sleep, this chance.

*******, we'll still try--
to get it right sometime.

My mother  grew  up  in the sand
among wolfs and sheeps
The herd  was  her family
She was a nomad
And the first to flee in her generation
She  ran with her family
when  the  bullets  hit our home
My mother carried all of her children
in her arms
Through landscapes she
Saw lions and elephants running
She saw the fear   in their eyes
Our paradise   had been sold to the devil
and  everything with a soul was leaving
When the sky turned dark
she  climbed over spike fences
and crossed the border
There wore   her brothers awaiting
and their eyes glowed in the
dark 
Greeting her to safety
My mother  built a house with her hands.
Only to witness it being torn down
My mother   is a warrior,
she  survived  the worst
and gave me the best
a future.

is not a wolf
in a sheeps clothing
but a goth
in a flame
torturing your being
to hear you screaming my name
ravishing your body
with weapons and heat
beating you shameless
till you collapse at my feet
pain isnt the issue
its more about trust
a safe word not needed
i fullfill your lust
pulling of hair
scratching at skin
biting you there
i get deep within
pleasures the name
pain is the vice
come play if you dare
to pay the price

A Wolf in sheeps clothing,
hiding out in the open,
focused on not becoming a prodigy, everybody riding me,
can they see through the holes of my sheets, that underneath im not clone, but in fact a beast?
hiding from society?

Sense that im different, my beliefs are not the same,
to stay away becomes a mission, considered to be insane
coming up I wanted to fit in, enjoyed being the same,
but i knew i could do more, so much more i haven't gained,

So bit by bit the cloth came off, and questions were asked,
and I starting letting go of reality,  imagination I grasped,
strayed away from the sheep, all they could say is at last,
walked away with my head down, tail touching the grass,

I look back on my past as i walk away,
foot prints disappearing in the ground as my future erases
the memories are now being replaced, but certain risks that i take,
and wonderfully creative faces,

No longer in a sheeps cloth, but woven in my own clothing,
Being different is now accepted, ideas being thrown in the open,
Its rare to be rejected when you do your own thing,
And when the moon finally shines, I feel no foolishness when I sing,

who i am finally doesnt contradict with what i can become, and fire has consumed anything that shows who i was before,

so i howl from enjoyment

                          -Wolfboy, Zino

Silenced
by a two-tongued tyrant
Who condemns with one flick
and licks the hand of hate
with the other
I shall never love
or find sister or brother
in the valley of silk scarves
wrapped around the root of creation
Deliver us Shiva
from the servants of dread Kali
Who don the mantle of civilization
but **** the faithful in the shadows
Oh foul deity of negativity
just once
please
show us who you are
Because your mask of kindness is broken
and the anger of your spirit
seeps out like a stealthy virus
Not bold and righteous
like the noble villain
But with a sheeps skin draped
over his foul devouring maw
If evil lurks and strikes
in the guise of the holy
Then you are greater than evil
A horror beyond the bounds
of acceptable wickedness.

Now the working day got me blue again
and the taxman takes all profit from my sanity,
lining the pockets of the rich in this top-heavy system.
I fell to the delusion that the left is always right
in this fight for centralised power,
but now the working day got me blue again,
and I'm tired of watching the news at ten.
I'm tired of seeing the human race **** each other,
so I turn off the television, and I try to live again.

Try to live past that working day,
past the need to keep artifacts from yesterdays
that can never effect the here and now.
Try to live past the event horizon,
the Great Electron in the sky;
the awful weight of uncertain futures-
but the working day got me blue again,
and those twelve hour shifts **** my strength
before I can punch through the wall that separates
you and I, from the happiness we earned,
the tears we cried.

The working day got me blue again,
and I've been quitting smoking for five years now,
But bad habits accumulate when you have no time
to file all the information that passes your way-
like dust across a construction site, when they promised
things would change. Though I've been breathing since birth,
I still turn to cigarettes as if they were the only thing that will calm me
in this sea of high expectations, sugar and caffeine; an isolated reality.
The working day got me blue again
and only music seems to talk above timesheets
and all those titles given to fools that you must obey.

I try to live past this humdrum panic,
this commonplace, day-to-day emergency.
I have been waiting for the paramedics,
for a team of experts or an expert lover
to frame all my fears into words, into diagnoses,
into myths and fallacies that tell me everything will be okay.
Everything will be okay, despite the finger on the button,
despite the chaos in my brain.
The working day got me blue again,

the working day got me blue,
and so all I can think of to do is to
fall into the grooves, into the static sheet of familiar melodies
on midnight walks, only my headphones and a cloud of smoke
to keep me company. The constuction site is always under new management,
the disabled are always ****** over by the government,
and its a surprise the fire service can still afford the price of running water-
double the price of Coca-Cola, and all the sheeps left to the slaughter.

I try to live past the bitterness that kills invisibly
like Carbon Monoxide; a fog, a cataract, that occludes the vision
so steadily, so incrementally,
that you cannot see the Scrooge in you,
until you find yourself alone in your room,
when only yesterdays remain, tattoo on your skin
in a series of callouses, of scars; photographs of guilt or all those better lives
lived by better men. Better women: better blades of grass and ameoba.
We stare into our phones in some punch-drunk hypnosis,
glowering at the world that distracts us from distraction.

The working day got me blue again,
and so I fall into a retreat. Into a fox-hole of self-delusion,
of puppetry in the world through my ugly words
and solemn verse; as if being clever with my tongue,
as if being cursive at the microphone is enough to save the world-
or at least, to save myself. You see, I've been a beacon of poor mental health,
I've been a victim of my own crimes for too long,
but the working day got me blue again, and before I find that strength
to punch that wall, or to make a change,
the working day got me blue again,
the working day got me blue again.

I try to live past the elevator jazz, as I stand on hold
for a company that would just as quickly drop me,
despite the smiles on their logos, despite their slogans of delight.
The lights went out a while ago,
and so I'll work another weekend,
I'll fix up my future pay, I'll sing sadly into my guitar
after a twelve hour shift, my ode, my unrequited love,
my poetry for Saturday.
You see, the working day got me blue again
and though I've spent my time saving up,
putting in the hours to fill my cup,
the working day got me blue again,
the working day got me down.

(HER:)

Waking up with distant eyes
Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, remember
Unwanted scenes, a mental ****
You can’t deny nor really escape
An incoherent theater plays out
The nighttime chronological film
Your memory drills the decor
Into your emerging, lethargic brain
You strive to piece it together
It makes sense, you want an encore

My web of dreams is wrought with
People in deeply masochistic scenes
Boudoirs and antique settings
I delve in these repeated lunar sins
Inspired by or tormented in a moon fire
Some hazy mornings I remember that my empire
Comes from those profoundly symbolic rooms
Child of the cross, blessed in a white cloth…
Now naked and proud, embedded in… who?
Silky velvet eyes, dark corners and dooms…

Or, like a prophet, dreaming about my family’s priest
Last night a call that hurt so much that was so clear that was
Unreal. A letter of blessings he wrote by hand
Tools on a table, gifted, in the shape of a small casket
In this horror I besought my heart to have erred
A premonition, coming from so vivid a past emotion?
What are your dreams made of?

(HIM:)

Waking up with distant eyes
Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, remember
An uninvited guest, a dying ember.
Dreams like false memories are hazy
Fading away hastily- vaguely
Still remember a few things namely
A hedgehog hissing and running around
something similar to a floating clover coin
I'm staring at a red colored behemothic door
There's a note scotch taped on that door
It gives me feelings of a signboard.

Blurry visions; I made the decision
to head for it but wait!
The hedgehog is still running around
It looks at me and starts screaming
Strangely the room is teeming
with darkness; Am I dreaming?
I think I am but I'm heaving
Believing whatever I'm seeing
Fleeting valor but I keep reeling
I'm getting closer to The Brobdingnagian
But where's that gnawer? I'm not seeing
him anymore; It was here before

I'm standing in front of the door.
Floor squeaks but I ignore
This blackness is stevedore
Bugbears came back for an encore
Hefty tidal bores inside my heart
Ready to wipe out everything I have
I look around, I see coal-black
No door knobs, no thoughts gob
I'm trapped in this **** room
My head throbs, I'm no Dom Cobb
Need to escape from this maze
I play a bit part in this Big Sleep
I'm not Bogart but a trash heap
Fear streaks, grey doubts peep
I know I'm dreaming but I still keep
seeing what I don't wanna see
I'm more dormant than The Mauna Kea
Trapped in this room like a bumblebee
My mind's worse than a potpourri

I was looking inside for a skeleton key
Then I opened my eyes suddenly
Why is it always like a movie without an apogee?
I looked around to find somebody
And I saw you in the mirror
Staring at me blatantly
So I'm asking you- Hey, tell me!

What are your dreams made of?
Waking up with distant eyes

Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, I remember
the way she smiled; Once again I saw her
Last time I saw her was on 22nd of December
Now that she came once again
I am not afraid of the hurricane
that hit the coast; I was lost
She found me- Long story cut short.
Storm clouds all over the skies
Thunderstorms loud; Heavy lightning strikes
My life was completely disarrayed
But now she's by my side; I'm not scared
Her beautiful smile- all things it repaired

We were talking, Don't remember what
Like old times, a very long chat
I remember saying yes to a few things she said
She smiled, happiness spread
all over my body, no discomfort I felt
All worries eased, all fears calmed
She helped me like she used to help
I don't want this day to end
Just wanna stay here for the rest of my life
I looked around, I'm somewhere else now
Wow! It's beautiful; I'm looking at a painting now
Where is she? She's not with me
I don't see her anywhere near.
I looked around; This place is overcrowded.
Unknown faces; Sadness shrouded
All the memories we made clouded
my path; I don't see a thing
I always loved her
Then why does she leave me halfway everytime?
No matter how much time I spend dreaming
Happing ending will always be an unfulfilled dream
Of mine; I'm screaming
Then I opened my eyes suddenly
Why is it always like a movie without an apogee?
I looked around to find somebody
And I saw you in the mirror
Staring at me blatantly
So I'm asking you again- Hey, tell me!

What are your dreams made of?



(HER:)

“An apo-gee”
Distance away-from earth
An apogee is a dream
It’s an acme, a ******
We dream of having dreams. We lie awake, we dream
We fall asleep, we dream. We think of dreams, we dream
In this so irregular laden-meaning scene that stream
Is new matter at night. Leading us through the deepest
Crevices. We recall a hazy landscape...

Waking up with distant eyes
Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, we remember
The nano seconds of our journey
Like photographs trapped in a camera
We lie down in bed, in our camera
Which is, my dear, the latin word for room
We are a canvas, we are the mechanism
Behind the machinery of dreams
Our brain sorts through the day, sending messages
Hermes in a tiny globulous sphere.

But you asked me to describe the machinery of that matter
In my dreams, I am sometimes seer, sometimes victim
Sometimes goddess. Females are seldom present
Men, men, men, it’s a men’s world
They’re not like horses, a mere form of their symbol
They’re made of skin and bones, their voices bewitching
In no fantasy realm. A concrete cell or a palace
A de Sade manor but… then… always in a room
I must be making use of some mise en abyme.

An abyss, an apogee
Away from earth at the
Bottom of the sea

This woman you speak of
She must be ghost yet queen
I have not seen nor heard
The flutter of her dress
Maybe in your carnal caress
She walked away
WIth a demeanor so noble
That left you longing for her kiss
This bliss of love! this… miss
I mean, dismiss.

(HIM:)

And I woke up listening to this
This soul kiss that I too much miss
Is a call to fall up, deep.
Close my eyes; Time to fall asleep
In a slit trench counting sheeps
Keeping up my defense
Against the fin-de-siecle pretence
Because everything in here pretends
to be real when they are really surreal
Some dreams are meant to make us
feel that way
They won't let our problems wake us
So they can take us away
From the Groundhog Day, we live every day

Waking up with distant eyes
Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, remember
The taste of that hot meal I had
I can trace it back though I go from
one dream to another like a nomad

A world so beautiful yet everything seems offbeat
The places you visit, the people you meet
Things you did when you were in the hot seat
And things you didn't 'cause you got cold feet
Sometimes in bits & parts, you remember
The long run behind the paper chase
Hard to remember, easy to forget
Images in our head sometimes deface
the imagery of this imaginary coquette
Dreams- what role does she play in our life?
Look through the lorgnette you are holding
You'll know she's the one controlling you
When you search for yourself in her world
Always incomplete, leaving an invisible mark
Inside your mind, onerous to find
Makin' you blind during the night
When you open your eyes & try to rewind
That old broken disc inside your mind
Nothing you'll find cause there's nothing inside
‘Cause that dream just died.

Waking up with distant eyes
Body numbed in its dreamscape
Still, forced to extract, remember
I wish I don't remember this nightmare
A nightmare is a night's mare
Don't know whose footprints I'm seeing here
Inside I'm hollow, about to be swallowed
by sorrow as my faith in myself is so low
Not so clear still I gotta follow
the trail all by myself, I'm going solo
In my backpack, I carry blessing from Apollo
Make use of your snowshoes, hare!
Going somewhere but I'm not aware
That I'm in the open air, completely bare
Ears impaired but I hear a fanfare
All I see is darkness when I stare
at the road ahead to find out who's there
The Oracle is somewhere near
Waiting to rescue you from this despair
And make this matrix a magic square
You will hear what you wanna hear
If you keep moving forward, dear!

Untamed wilderness and an open sky
The Mighty Huntress is nearby
The Spirit of the Wolf will never die
Smell of fresh blood, ravens fly
Beautifying the color of the night sky.
Don't know why I was chosen as the prey
I don't know what's in for me
If I keep walking through this way.
Then long streams of illusions
Flew in from all directions
I cannot reverse the flow
It's like those silent rivers
Heading furiously towards the sea
Why do I see things that I see?
Gotta keep moving; Do you understand me?
'Cause time moves fast but very slow here
Sound of clock ticks I don't hear
Home's far away- a million light years
from the earth but still near
Suddenly a black hole appears
In front of me out of nowhere
I'm going down through this abyss
I'm not afraid 'cause I know where
I'm going; The Light is showing
me the bottom of the sea.
Almost there, I can see it clearly
I know this is where I have to be
So I closed my eyes slowly
As I reached The Apogee.
----
December through January 2018

we live in a world
where people are killed because they are different
because of their race their beliefs
where women are ***** till death
labeled as *** machines and baby producers
where nice people are stupid and naive
and hypocrites are smart and have understood life well
where with money you can get everything
where women and children are sold like sheeps
where the innocents are guilty and the guilty are innocent
where millions are dying from hunger and poverty
we live in a world where since its existence not a single day had passed without spilling blood
what a beautiful world we are living in !!

This is a strange heat of cloudy day in october where bathroom stalls are the only place they spread the love.

She wants rain. She covers her school bag with plastic so her books will not be soaked. She believes, soon, it will rain.

She becomes a boy when something inside her bleeds. It is a battle wound. It is what makes her beautiful. It is what makes her want to insert her fingers very slowly into your eyes.

She dies monthly; that is why we celebrate easter every month. The eggs also die, only not in a way you can understand. They cry in trash bin, right before a stray dog comes and carries them with its lovely teeth.

"I only want to kiss you like *******. Let's hold hand and be a cramp. We can hug like contraction or the way a womb would."

It will not rain. She begins to open her umbrellas. She has twenty seven in twelve different patterns.

"I think the dog loves me too."

She gives up. She says she will stay. This is the very bottom of her current lowest. Her eyelids are heavy as iron. They only become heavier and heavier.

"I think i can sing amazing grace."

But she never opens her mouth ever again. She cannot even brush her teeth. And when her jeans are stained with blood, she cries like a baby whose lips are sewn together with rose's thorns.

Her eyelids are now corroded. Glad she has counted all the sheeps. She is going to sleep. A long nap. A sweet, sweet dream. *A sweet, sweet dream.

Dripping inks from a dreamer's quill
Trembling tip illustrates a scribbled script
Weary sheets capturing an innocence guilt
Corners not spared for a timeless trip

Walking in reverse replaying all skits
Sorting out smiles from the grimeless grins
Missing a delicate frowned is a vital bit
Expressions throned from denying wins

Drifting words marking of flamboyant speech
Passing judgement even before the trial begins
Anonymous decision narrowing countless ditch

Where should we go now?
Or what should be seen?
Visionary or idealist repelling reality's keep

Spinning ticks as the grandfather clock dings
The journey sails even when our eyelids peep
Lights now shining while we recounting sheeps
Reality is knocking so now just let our
Fantasy breathes

@2014 Maman Screams

Candy
Bubblegum girl, I think you deserve better.
You're dating a man who acts like a child,
Leaving a breadcrumb trail of missed calls until you're crying down the phone at work
Leaking candy floss tears into the carpet.
Far be it from me to impart my wisdom,
There's only a few months between us
But I've stopped pearlescent pear drops
Forming on my cheeks
Because no man is ever worth it, sugar.

Vegan
He told you drink no milk and eat no eggs
Till your blood thinned out and your body starved
Girl, you should know
A man who tries to purify your body
Is aiming to conquer holy ground
Raining redemption on the promised land
This is not the Crusades
And he has no right to a single centimetre of you
Your body is a temple of ***, drugs and rock n roll
It's a sin to cleanse it with kale.

Sky
You had a friend who painted you the colour of sunsets
Bleeding, beautiful, bright
Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?
Did it hurt when he shot you down?
Was your daddy a thief because I swear he stole stars to put in your eyes
And now that man wants them out
Stardust in his pocket
Leaving you dark and blind
How do you tame the sky?
By convincing you you're a wolf in sheeps clothing
Dressed himself up as the victim, the lamb to the lion
Ironed out the creases in his smile until he's a cloudless day
And you're the monster in the depths.

Scorpio
Five foot *******
In love with the sound of his own voice
With a flex of his pecs
He tells you he just doesn't think you 'werk'
You just don't seem to 'vibe' and with that jibe
Strips the maturity from the situation until it's exposed enough to be instagrammable.
You know what he's really like
Round family a sweetheart, an old fashioned charmer
Darling he's built himself a brand new armour
A carapace
And you may well get crabby sometimes
But he's the one with the sting.

Anxiety
He’s sweet
Really
A pure soul with no ulterior goals in mind
He likes you.
And guys too,
Which surprises you a little.
Maybe it’s his unassuming posture
The way he holds his head
And the five o’clock shadow that creeps through till it’s gone midnight
And he hasn’t messaged yet.
He likes you
Really
But doesn’t have control over his tongue
As it writhes inside the stranglehold the brain has put it under.
He came to these studios to find a voice
And found yours, lilting, Celtic with a northern twang
Like the snapped string of a guitar.
You talk to him about...everything
And he tries to muster the words to keep up with your shine
Finds solace in your bed but not your lips.
He ends it over text
With bitten nails stabbing the keys
To lock your heart anew.

New Rules
Something about the hesitation in your smile says
That you are used to living on a knife edge
A bridge edge
A cliff edge
Anywhere he could push-pull you off
Throw himself into churning depths so you'll come back to catch him
But you're the ******, naturally
Throw around the C-U-N
Tea-sipping, words slipping from your mouth as we realise
A shared history, of a sort.
We've both felt the iron tang of blood
As we bit our tongues against injustices railed against us
Words and names buried so deep
They cannot be plucked out like the splintered praise of friends.
You say You'd take him back in a heartbeat,
But all you're missing is an echo chamber
A sounding board for your own atrioventricular system
Hidden behind your lungs
Is all the love that you could give.
Share it with the world.
Share it with yourself.
And don't pick up the phone.

A night's a light
Who valour,conquers
Piffles from haters,
Who libel your
Life to slay your
Dreams onto shreds.

In this rough road we walking
Through,full of thorns,
Nemesis waiting in line
Like sheeps in the midst
Of wolves.

We African dreams,ascend
Alike the sun in morning of Kruger's
Nation from dawn of
South Safari.

Bricks build buildings to climb,
For our dreams as we crawl half
Onto top of the tower on snail pace,
We not holding behind,only carrying
Scriptures to heaven.they call us
Failurers,we call ourselves the Children of
God bound by faith,living
The light of Almighty
Father.

Success of Failurer,The walking
Through of the toughest.