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Showing posts from November, 2014

In Nomine Dei

Are we really killing each other,
In the name of a God or gods that exist
somewhere between our minds and the unfathomable skies?

"Why can’t we all get along?"
After seven days of work,
God won’t break his extended sabbatical,
To come settle petty squabbles
Over resources that abound.

Live and let live.

What’s next,
After power drunk leaders,
Drop their shorts,
In testosterone fueled teenage rage,
Shouting,
My gun is bigger than yours?

*****August 4, 2014*****

The Coming of Age

And so we hallucinate in a room of fogged mirrors,
Lost in the reverie of youthful exuberance,
It could be that we were lost to our own errors,
But maybe it’s the wisdom in the folly of our senseless runs.

The coming of age;
It is a thing which I’d rather waited.

In this drunken stupor, time is lost to us,
We at last succeed in seducing mistress time,
To slow down that we may step of the bus,
For what use in this haste to come of age.

The coming of age;
What is the brouhaha all about?

My hungry and destructive mind sits to contemplate about,
The untainted joy of innocent infants enjoying infancy,
My torrid youth chasing ladies that catch my fancy,
As I watch adults sweetly enjoy their adultery.

The coming of age;
Is it what they say it is?

Ours is a time of perceived invincibility,
We are mythological heroes and time is nemesis; hubris,
We can’t, we shan’t, we refuse to bow,
The coming of age, what is to be come of this age?

The coming of age;
There has to be a way out.

Oh, how I would that Michelangelo scu…

Do You Note

Do you note, How in dreams, worlds take on new powers, In ways awashed with vibrant colours?
You leap off cliffs of sanity, And cherubs await lest feet dash on rocks, Or You call wings like they already were And fly into realms only you dare It’s your world, you decide.
Do you note, When dreams come together, How much richer reality tastes in retrospect, As if the most vivid dream were naught but gray-scale forgeries And sleep but an inept fortune teller?
Chipping at the marble of amorphous dreams, how muscles ache with frustrated strikes, how sweat and tears is bitter perfume, that beg of you to lay down tools, conceding dream to altars of doubt

but do you note, when in diligence you travail, Reality is a masterpiece unmatched by dreams?

 *****November 3, 2014*****