love is like a fungus
beautiful like an umbrella mushroom
and sticky like mould on bread
and nefarious mad like psilobycin
and scary like an aluminium cage .conditions apply.

so you may not like me
but it's maybe cause you are afraid of that thing being in you
or you may just not like me.
(oh p.s. , by the way ,your superior attitude, or inferiority complex
waits to glint out
and break like crystal)

you may not like me
you may think i am disarrayed
or alien
or disgusting
i do not mind.
i like myself.
it's an unconditional love.
arrogance if you will.
i am with me honey.
so you can leave.

I am lost in the loose ended threads which make my life;
they weld me down along glistening metal lanes
with screws and nuts and bolts once in a while ,
rather carelessly with a callow scraping grip,
perhaps it's a young apprentice
inexperienced in dealing with insubordination
to fix me in my place.

sometimes these threads look like faceless feelings,
pre-emptive if you will,
sometimes they look like ununderstandings by me or others
sometimes they look like despots called people
sometimes they look like elevators built around caves of people
shedding tears and hides.

So yes ,sometimes the metal feels like the deep cold of the sea.
powdered with nuts and bolts forgotten in the hazy blue saline,
but probing my shaky heart and my remoulding mind like frosty bullets.
Overrun with senseless weeds from inside,
and grim from ruins of  lost ships
and here and there with inviting treasures
worthwhile, anew
in the cascades of worldliness of all things beautiful.

sometimes the metal feels like the lullaby of the sea
sedating almost,
amidst the wilderness of conflicts ,jarring bronze contradictions
and of course, the ever so ubiquitous, soupy shallow free floating worldly wise grime.

while other times oy romantics,
it feels like a fish net topping me from reaching out
to places and peoples and experiences of this world.

twirling around her own shadows
in the light raining around
the leaves of trees tall and straggling
brisk undulating jungle breaths  
cruising

to all those who tell you that they think they know the important
to all those who are hurt, damaged, unrequited, unattended, un understood, un developed
to all those who know not what they like, want, look for,
to all those who haven't read ,travelled,seen,experienced,talked,listened -far and wide,near and close
to all those who haven't  developed spine, brain,mind,heart, in wholesome dashes
to all those who haven't wronged, erred, fallen, broken, stooped,stood up, stood,learnt, righted,
to all those who know not that they be deeply unaware of ignorance
to all those who lack CURIOSITY, WONDER,AWE,
to all those,
stop.

Dear sir,
With you effusive competence
And that big heart
Like the sky
With a lightness
That I don’t know.
And I don’t know
pervades or stands-
the ceaseless litany forged by the world
of your ‘’ failings of being’’,
gives me hope for the world indeed.

That child’s beam
A saucer smile;
Eyes a grave green
like a steely forest night
With memories of dire darkness
And wolves and fear;

Like a rosy sky
Working a soft pink
That feels like velvet on a winter morning;
And dreams of laying along with the freshness
Of the companionable grass
On a warm spring day
And love revised, anew.
Like a rosy sky
Working a soft pink
From the sun’s gold,
I don’t know after forgetting
or remembering
The sharpness of
serrated edges of lightning bolts
on many a lonely damp night.
I think I have a bit of a crush,
You know, the kind that resembles loveliness
The kind that reminds me, every now and again,
about life and things;
The kind that makes me smile and be gay without reason

as i sit there in the middle
of the classroom full of people
looking around with languid pretense
sometimes careful scrutiny
almost like an owl
and then i see
a little smile
a warm inviting gaze
a friendly almost wave
of hand
and i
smile back.