Intuition

It’s that song drifting in your ear,

It’s the pattern swirling in your drink,

Where only you can see, only you can hear

You shake your head in disbelief,

You pinch yourself to spur relief,

Yet it won’t stop and it won’t end,

There’s no use in trying, no sense to pretend

Because no matter what it is that you think

There’s something more out there for you

And no matter what won’t disappear

One day soon, something better will appear

And the greatest thing of all, is that until you take the leap,

You’ll never know if it’s truth, in what your intuition speaks

Firecracker

Firecracker—soda pop—routine quenching of the mortal verb, Blissful bullet-points banter about the pre-pre-lingual pause—submerging aftertaste in the grandeur of the plunge

Addictive trinkets of euphoric punch—punctuating the blistered awakenings found atop the ridges of the bridge—where with it’s carbonated siege, all pleasures are revealed—as possible and real

Shoulder Of The Road

I’m at the shoulder of the road,

Meters past the vibratory bumps,

Inching towards,

Where the wheels and lamps align,

Sidled up, parallel as can be,

Beside the painted lines,

Under the lamps that hang,

And here,

Where gravel and grass unite

I watch the flash of life speed by

The eyes focus as long as they may,

Until either the darkness overtakes the

Landscape, or another pirates my line of sight

Disheveled Ignorance

Lines blur as energies emancipate,

Time becomes just an artifact clinging to the nail,

While we are all made of flesh and red is the

Color of blood, the hand of the present hour darkens the premise that commingles with the air…

Mankind is blue on the inside…

Stereotypes distort the freedom our forefathers so selflessly fought for…

Castes depress the potential from perhaps the most brilliant of minds… but never mind…do not be concerned, with that does not defect you….keep on blinking…as innocence is belied…forced to till the fields at dawn…until sweat merges with the blood of the never spawned…

Platelets…meshing in skewered coercion

Marrow…corroding reality, separating the sinew from the bones broken during a midday matinee…in dream…we flail

Yet we are capable of so much more…more than shaking ourselves clean and clear…we are leagues better than those that witness the warped branches of the abhorred…perhaps even smiling as we avert our eyes

And then from those trees, where no leaf shall ever grow again, we may sigh…wondering where the breath begins…

A Fraudulent Decay

Inspirations

For an otherwise

Uninspired world.

Stagnation mates with ennui,

Trigger offends frame.

Desperation reeks of fear

Grinning in contempt

Decay

We all do

Some late, some soon,

Some in peace,

And then there are the others,

Those that will eventually find themselves

Prematurely exhumed

Or dispatched as they’ve lived,

A fraudulent canvass is a canvass nonetheless