This is a storm.. fat droplets of rain soaking into Earth’s socks
a breeze of oddities and a shape in a cage with imploding extremities
the pandemonium that is audible and visible and tactile
let the oceans wash up on this one pointed shore
chaos that sprung from some laid back fetuses
with the creativity of super Nature in their every pore
This air that is jostling spice and decay
I sat under a tree and looked up at you
somewhere amidst the scenic sway
you showed me India, I thought I knew
But how did you ever make her so loud?
How did you make her crooked legs walk so proud?
a shabby torn blanket was tossed over your pious bones
you walk like a shepherd, but you’re no more than a dysfunctional traffic cone.
A slab of mall with a sprinkle of rules
Where will you usher me?
If I stretch my rawboned fingers towards you
Let my teeth rattle in the cold following your maneuver
Where will you steer me?
you sit in this cold stone cabinet with hemp around your neck
And the cold pricks you pores
I stand underneath a dome of broken body parts
All swinging and swaying with the fragmentary incompletion of humanity
What floorboards hold up your weight that you haven’t broken your neck yet?
The fur on your back is all standing up and your tail is between your hind legs
I called for a name that matched your face
but only found embarrassment and disgrace
One by one from first to last you’ll drop like flies
and rot and fester under all those lies
like storm rain soaking through your boneless thighs
folded underneath the ever-swaying skies
Hard-wrapped coiling foils, sororal menstrual stains
selfish flints of altruistic bhang flames in vain
Cold sore and acid licked and frozen chained
to cock and hen’s most mere myopic bane
jittery song to koleidoscope’s framed breath
kleptocracy storming a global warning of theft
hard and soiled and clung to what ready’s left
to blow our souls
out of our skulls
and whittle beds of death
There was a man who thought to think cosmos
without the buzz of solar beams, was blunt
with nothing but a greying glint at most
Like ashes lacking any touching lunt
He felt that when he looked to see the sun
His eyes, with pigment from the light, were thawed
And sizzled too and twinkled yet, and spun!
But when he looked away the world seemed flawed
So bathe and basque in shafts alone did he
Until his eyes were harmed, and burnt and sore!
Though try did he to squint, he could not see!
And saw the light in shameless vein no more..
Alas! The glint that light did show! Was not
to be absorbed exclusively. Be taught!