I have had choices
I have had regrets
I have high hopes
Hight of chaos
Hamlets of happiness
Hermits of heaps
I parse my poems
I mint my money
I lump my swamps
I leech my swarms
I end up in an irrational plot
Surrounded by my summer
Sulked by my shard of skins
I buy more time to tune in
A winter full of whirlwinds
An affine space, of livid systems
Is bound to echo, a locus limbs
Is burst to gaze, a primordial pivot
Is build to embed, elliptic notions
Is brittle to distill, vapors of vices
Is beam to perish, pristine poles
An affine space, a vivid lens
Rivets in a pulse, a prismatic visage
Beat it my heart, through your vessels
Bugles and burns, heart of my ace
Speed of these songs, tunneling through the veins
Quite impersonal, blood of various colors and tinge
Binge on the soil, oozing at a fast pace
River bed and rock bottom, stethoscope to compute
Fiddling counts of hopes, despair, illness and frivolous thoughts
Unlike any other peep, this time it is a measure of heart and life
I am bound by my numbers, waves and cardio muscles
Every mouse, rat, rodent and I
We have an opinion about a rat race
We believe that it is the need of the flour
That keeps us riding on the needs of the hour
We keep running on the maze, haze and you name it rat race
Every mouse, rat, rodent and I
We are earthly skins, bins and pins for your magnanimous lives
We are skinned, binned, pinned and finned by your forces
Your forces are ulterior to the interior of the exterior of your intentions
You carve money out of the mist, fist, wrist, heist and at last
We win the rat race, you win the money chains
We build the palaces, you embalm your body and mind over it
Poles apart, lives apart, parts apart, know that we know not to race this time
We still know what we are, who we are and what we have?
Do you know anything other than our skin, sin and your coins?
Between you and me, the finer touch of things
Between you and me, the pale edge of life
Between you and me, the globular flow of light
Between you and me, the sheath of nothingness
Between you and me, the measure of similarities and differences
Between you and me, an infinitude of colors
Between you and me, a distilled glass of hours, minutes, seconds and finer things
Eyes, our eyes, you insist a world I see is always granular enough !
I resemble no common faces
A mix of fate and fortune
Yet I hunt for resemblances
About people, places, faces, ideas, emotions
I confront their hideouts every other day
Nothing about them is clear and near
Knowing their intimate force upon my eyes
I am crawling in my own gardens
Oh my eyes ! Why do you deceive yourself?
I am chilled and frilled as I gaze
Bold and brutal resemblances
Their stone vaults
I embrace them in a hurry
And hide in their coincidences
And heave their concurrences
And linger to their uncertainties
And reveal the antecedents
I resemble many uncommon ideas
Thus I hunt for resemblances
It is largely pale and poisonous
Though unintentionally beautiful
There is a larger whiteness about all the dark spots
Faces are specially woven
All the intricacy is subdued and polite
I must appreciate the craftsmanship
I must wield myself into their variances
Resemblances, are they kind?
Resemblances, are they random or real?
I resemble a turn of thoughts
I resemble a train of thoughts
Thus I am tuned to think about odd hours
And how I minced my silence in their mercy
There is a larger terrain irrational
Where I hover intimidated
Where I have a feeling for heist
Where I harp aloud about unknown heights
Middle road to the wisdom
I wed ignorance of the means
Riddles, let their be riddles
Pleasures, let their be pleasures
I am not yielding to your ripened future
A choice in the plenitude of frenzies
A force to resist all resemblances
All the leaves are laid to rest
All the fiddles are put to play
Let the gamblers gobble with the resemblances
Let me embrace the oddities alone
Do I sound like a machine?
Do I sound like a mundane musician?
Do I sound like a muted magician?
Do I sound like a machine?
I have my hands chiseled on the days
I have my nerves chiseled at nights
I have my cheeks chiseled at twilight
My nerves are huddling between mirrors and circles
Do I need to sound like a man?
Do I need to sound like a human harmless?
Do I need to swim across the swamps that you created?
Do I make sense when I vomit my vernacular blood?
Do I need to wobble across history?
I do sound like a question answering machine
I do live like a machine
I do keep silence like a mutant
I do keep numbers close to my heart
I do wake up and sleep with the clock
I do travel on the roads with the four wheeled motion
I do smile according to the whims and fancies of my television
I am not a dumb head, nor I am the shrapnel you need for this hour
I am just a piece of rotted catfish,
I am just a round round hound around the mounted fist
I was, am, will be with you until the last word perish from our memory!
Let me invite you to a dark room
Darker than the inquisition tables of the middle ages
Murkier than the ink pots of Homer and Vyaas
Colorful than the counselling tables of Sigmund Freud
Vocal than the greatest canvasses of Van Gogh and Picasso
World of cinema, magic and psychotherapy, they offer a new vision
You are inverted, you mirror yourself, you paint yourself
As the film strip steps up your emotion, a new arrow is born
A new arrow into the myriads of mirrors within you
Let us salute those epic film makers
For their adrift skills and voyage through this ocean of art
When I walk through these streets of optics and montage
I enter a new phase, when I can read thousands of patterns in your faces
Magic moments, Misty eyes, Gleam in my pupil, Glory in the crowds
I embrace all these, only to taste the vibrant waves of kinesthetics!