Oct 10 2010
eye sockets,
mere
figures of speech,
stare
metaphorically
at the lyric
bed;
these words
crawl,
scarab
beetles,
from
the
open
fissure
that was
mouth,
flocking
manic
through
tissued
tongue,
while
skeletal
fingers
rhyme
e r r a t I c a l l y
with
those
fleshless
toes
s p l a y e d
d
e
e
p
beneath
dried
corpus:
the
ragged
body
of
his
work.
Oct 10 2010
I
An emerald glare
Lit up the sky in the distance.
The line of sand
Alternately
Appeared and disappeared.
The drum beats
Different pitches.
The ocean was breathing,
Hiding a wrath.
II
I would gladly spit in the face of any professor.
Nothing has been bridled or subjected.
The natural elements have only changed their place.
The sea, the wind, and fire continue to rage inside people.
III
‘I don’t want to
Go out in the rain’
Said the girl in ‘English.’
The hair might
Fell out in today’s rain.
IV
Yellowish mist
Hangs over earth.
No desire to go out.
A ghastly silence
Sets in the dusk.
Frogs splash in the puddles
Letting out strange grunts.
But yet to see one.
V
The shadow of decay
Lies on everything.
Art supporting
The dying dream.
Cynicism shocks
The senile brains.
Nature leaves last chance.
We do not believe in Nature.
What is our chance?
VI
The landscape flying by
In the windows of the carriage.
Everything is fictional,
A deception.
In the end
Settle down quietly
In the desert.
Oct 04 2010
Footprint in the Sky
From Paris to New York the biggest passenger plane in the world
flew 525 souls, including the crew, with clean passports, sharp press
in elegant suits and pride, no one mentioned the boring subject of
footprint in the sky. 525 bodies bobbing about in mid Atlantic and
where is the black box? Headline stuff for days a commission formed
to find out what happened, human error or technical faults, insurance
companies want to know, while a river of tears floods the runway.
It has not occurred yet, but it is a benchmark. a crash less than that
number is not headline stuff anymore, only a two second bulletin in
the evening news.
follow: RSS