Why is it
that we accept
the banality of evil
and indifference
we move on
uncaring
even as a homeless vet
lies on the street
why should we care
abandoned by society
they will die
a dignified individual
sans recognition
in multiple ways
we fail to respect him
another tortured hobo
an inconvenience
who at times
begs for change
on 5'th avenue
as shoppers walk by
the "stench" in the air
is due to you and me l
ladies and gentlemen
there is no greater stink
than indifference
Thursday, January 29, 2009
For all those who politicize 9/ll
For all that was lost
and all there is to be found
whence did we lose the last shreds
of human dignity?
and all there is to be found
whence did we lose the last shreds
of human dignity?
New Orleans- A Short Poem
Swept away,
In a river of sorrow and uncertainty
poverty raises its ugly head
to be drowned by corruption
and New Orleans loses it soul
cuz gumbo will never taste the same again.
In a river of sorrow and uncertainty
poverty raises its ugly head
to be drowned by corruption
and New Orleans loses it soul
cuz gumbo will never taste the same again.
Someone else's war
This is a story
of a son's life
seen through the eyes of a father
as he contemplates the final loss
Memories awash
the toddler taking the first step
the infant speaking his first word
the child's first day at school
the teenager learning how to drive
the young man deciding to serve his country
the soldier saluting the old man
and the corpse that returns in a coffin
what does one say to a grieving father
whose reality has been altered
what becomes of the grandchild
that will never be born
yet, I hear that the warmongers sleep well at night
of a son's life
seen through the eyes of a father
as he contemplates the final loss
Memories awash
the toddler taking the first step
the infant speaking his first word
the child's first day at school
the teenager learning how to drive
the young man deciding to serve his country
the soldier saluting the old man
and the corpse that returns in a coffin
what does one say to a grieving father
whose reality has been altered
what becomes of the grandchild
that will never be born
yet, I hear that the warmongers sleep well at night
The show must go on
Away slips the night
under the soft light
of the moon
at the darkest hour
comes a sliver of light
gently on the Hudson
the wind blows
carrying a protesting gull
making indignant sounds
walk by the water
the tide lapping gently
at the rocky shore
across the river
the sparkling lights fade
and the majestic new york skyline
reprises
like a phoenix
majestic as ever
a lone ferry advances
towards the pier
quiet sounds of the morning
a lone jogger
an elderly couple
these are mere observations
the heart can soar
or despair
happiness could come
or one might be
in the doldrums
somethings never change
life moves on
uncaring
not unkind
as they say
the show
must go on!!
under the soft light
of the moon
at the darkest hour
comes a sliver of light
gently on the Hudson
the wind blows
carrying a protesting gull
making indignant sounds
walk by the water
the tide lapping gently
at the rocky shore
across the river
the sparkling lights fade
and the majestic new york skyline
reprises
like a phoenix
majestic as ever
a lone ferry advances
towards the pier
quiet sounds of the morning
a lone jogger
an elderly couple
these are mere observations
the heart can soar
or despair
happiness could come
or one might be
in the doldrums
somethings never change
life moves on
uncaring
not unkind
as they say
the show
must go on!!
Regarding Torture, Death Penalty and War
Institutionalized murder
is what is preached
and we argue semantics
about the humaneness of the act
was he in pain
did we torture
or did he die
painlessly
we ignore the absurdity
of murdering one of our own
is it just retribution
or revenge
A debate that is ignored
who has the right to decide
who lives, who dies
murderers make that choice
So what separates us from them
we can argue semantics
and talk about humane practices
as we put another to death
yet somehow as a society
we fail to see the contradiction ...
-----------------------------
at the alter of their ego
a child died
his 40 pound charred body lies on the street
and they used a missile to kill him
and the bible thumpers screamed- more
and the koran thumpers screamed- jihad
and the gita thumpers screams - use a sword
yet they all they wanted was blood
blood of men
blood of women
blood of children
such was the blood lust
and they prayed
they fasted
they knelt
for their god
who has died in shame
is what is preached
and we argue semantics
about the humaneness of the act
was he in pain
did we torture
or did he die
painlessly
we ignore the absurdity
of murdering one of our own
is it just retribution
or revenge
A debate that is ignored
who has the right to decide
who lives, who dies
murderers make that choice
So what separates us from them
we can argue semantics
and talk about humane practices
as we put another to death
yet somehow as a society
we fail to see the contradiction ...
-----------------------------
at the alter of their ego
a child died
his 40 pound charred body lies on the street
and they used a missile to kill him
and the bible thumpers screamed- more
and the koran thumpers screamed- jihad
and the gita thumpers screams - use a sword
yet they all they wanted was blood
blood of men
blood of women
blood of children
such was the blood lust
and they prayed
they fasted
they knelt
for their god
who has died in shame
Moments
It takes but a moment
To divide
But eternity
To unite
Is it in the basic nature
Of consciousness
To be divisive
As opposed to being connected
Fear galvanizes divisions
Hope leads to unity
So why is it
That we play to our baser emotions
Is survival still a question
That our species struggles with
Is the loss of our own life
The driving factor
If so
Why?
Because death is inevitable
But the projection of an unforeseeable ending is not
And that’s how they play us
Closure
Or lack of it becomes an issue
Fear
Hope on the other hand
Would unite us
To a level of universal consciousness
One begins to realize that there is something greater than the self
Immortality
Unwanted
That exists
In the form of an idea
That idea
Is that of freedom
From the known
The unknown
And from the prejudice of the self
To divide
But eternity
To unite
Is it in the basic nature
Of consciousness
To be divisive
As opposed to being connected
Fear galvanizes divisions
Hope leads to unity
So why is it
That we play to our baser emotions
Is survival still a question
That our species struggles with
Is the loss of our own life
The driving factor
If so
Why?
Because death is inevitable
But the projection of an unforeseeable ending is not
And that’s how they play us
Closure
Or lack of it becomes an issue
Fear
Hope on the other hand
Would unite us
To a level of universal consciousness
One begins to realize that there is something greater than the self
Immortality
Unwanted
That exists
In the form of an idea
That idea
Is that of freedom
From the known
The unknown
And from the prejudice of the self
History
History is written
with the blood of those who lost
and the sweat of those who won
under the direction of those who never fought
and so the story goes
extolling deeds of men
as told by themselves
painted as liberators
written history is fluid
it's distorted and obscure
for it often veils
the foundation stone of reality
with the blood of those who lost
and the sweat of those who won
under the direction of those who never fought
and so the story goes
extolling deeds of men
as told by themselves
painted as liberators
written history is fluid
it's distorted and obscure
for it often veils
the foundation stone of reality
Boots
Boots splattered
with mud specks of brown
on the black leather
half laced
lying in the sand
splattered with blood
attached to the foot
of a man
not yet 20 l
aying still
his eyes half open
face frozen
in an eternal grimace
hand clutching the wound
lifeless eyes
stare at the blinding sun
the stench of death
begins to emanate
the vultures circle slowly
beginning the spiral
they shall feast tonight
use him as a shield
praise him
his body off limits
his death hidden
who was it
who gave them the keys
to this bloody kingdom
unchecked
boots
he put them on in the morning
shiny and laced up
unaware
he was marching to his death
for a lie
another man
laces up his ferragamo's
in a bid to to send a poorer man
to his death
boots, sir
not unlike the ones you laced
30 years ago
another man shall walk in your shoes
at the alter of your ego
he shall die
a mother will weep
a father shall cry
a wife will never see her husband
for the true soldier
does not trade those
dirty stinky boots for ferragamo's
with mud specks of brown
on the black leather
half laced
lying in the sand
splattered with blood
attached to the foot
of a man
not yet 20 l
aying still
his eyes half open
face frozen
in an eternal grimace
hand clutching the wound
lifeless eyes
stare at the blinding sun
the stench of death
begins to emanate
the vultures circle slowly
beginning the spiral
they shall feast tonight
use him as a shield
praise him
his body off limits
his death hidden
who was it
who gave them the keys
to this bloody kingdom
unchecked
boots
he put them on in the morning
shiny and laced up
unaware
he was marching to his death
for a lie
another man
laces up his ferragamo's
in a bid to to send a poorer man
to his death
boots, sir
not unlike the ones you laced
30 years ago
another man shall walk in your shoes
at the alter of your ego
he shall die
a mother will weep
a father shall cry
a wife will never see her husband
for the true soldier
does not trade those
dirty stinky boots for ferragamo's
Rain
The rain
she comes down slow
pitter patters
on my shoulder
I walk on the shore
vision obscured
blinded my pain
yet content with the view
a kaleidoscope
reality shimmers
hazy lights
the sound of the rain hitting the river
a world in harmony
can only exist
when we see the beauty of the raindrop
that falls silently from the skies
and dissolves into the fabric of time
the infinity of the rivers
that flow to the sea
meander
the path is never fixed
assumptions never hold
the stars shift
the only thing that never changes
is the flow of time
the rain comes down
softly now
smile
quietly
i give in
yet i cant
not my
lying eyes
death that night
had one headlight
and life is a breath
akin to sunrise
she comes down slow
pitter patters
on my shoulder
I walk on the shore
vision obscured
blinded my pain
yet content with the view
a kaleidoscope
reality shimmers
hazy lights
the sound of the rain hitting the river
a world in harmony
can only exist
when we see the beauty of the raindrop
that falls silently from the skies
and dissolves into the fabric of time
the infinity of the rivers
that flow to the sea
meander
the path is never fixed
assumptions never hold
the stars shift
the only thing that never changes
is the flow of time
the rain comes down
softly now
smile
quietly
i give in
yet i cant
not my
lying eyes
death that night
had one headlight
and life is a breath
akin to sunrise
9/11 Tribute
Death
is an equalizer
those who died in the 9/11 attacks
bleed like you and me
traumatic images
of a tragedy
scars us all
unequivocally
yet it has been politicized
repeatedly
i shall not dwell on that
though images flash
to those who have lost
we share the gaping hole
in our hearts
embodied with your pain
we cannot console you
and we cannot help
forgive us
for our experiences limit us
encapsulated
within the bubble
of our ideologies
all that can be said
it does not matter
republicans
democrats
independents
unite
it's not blue America
or red America
it's the United States of America
is an equalizer
those who died in the 9/11 attacks
bleed like you and me
traumatic images
of a tragedy
scars us all
unequivocally
yet it has been politicized
repeatedly
i shall not dwell on that
though images flash
to those who have lost
we share the gaping hole
in our hearts
embodied with your pain
we cannot console you
and we cannot help
forgive us
for our experiences limit us
encapsulated
within the bubble
of our ideologies
all that can be said
it does not matter
republicans
democrats
independents
unite
it's not blue America
or red America
it's the United States of America
Flame
If life was a candle
and the intensity with which you live
is a flame
would you reduce it for longevity
do you have the courage
to burn bright
amongst the innocuous lives
that most live
or would you rather fade
like a dying star
quietly
not accepting yet helpless
our birth is not a choice
death rarely is
it is this life
this life only
where one can
soar like an eagle
or live in shell
like a snail
choose well
for in your dying gasp
you will answer
not to your maker
but to thy self
and the intensity with which you live
is a flame
would you reduce it for longevity
do you have the courage
to burn bright
amongst the innocuous lives
that most live
or would you rather fade
like a dying star
quietly
not accepting yet helpless
our birth is not a choice
death rarely is
it is this life
this life only
where one can
soar like an eagle
or live in shell
like a snail
choose well
for in your dying gasp
you will answer
not to your maker
but to thy self
Diameter
There is method in madness
for even chaos requires frames
frames need logic
and nothing exists in vacuum
logic can be illogical
perception requires intuition
which stems from experience
of reality and the unreal
the unreal is a vision
of an unhealthy mind
while viewing the real world
requires a sound mind
madness exists in the mind
insanity is incomplete
without some kernel of sanity
viewed as concentric circles
so the question is
for you my friend
which has the larger diameter
the sane or the insane
for even chaos requires frames
frames need logic
and nothing exists in vacuum
logic can be illogical
perception requires intuition
which stems from experience
of reality and the unreal
the unreal is a vision
of an unhealthy mind
while viewing the real world
requires a sound mind
madness exists in the mind
insanity is incomplete
without some kernel of sanity
viewed as concentric circles
so the question is
for you my friend
which has the larger diameter
the sane or the insane
Obscure
Life exists
beyond black and white
it exists in shades of grey
yet at times we're fatalistic
how
one might ask
yes and no
perhaps
banish that thought
no man is an island
unto himself
so they say
it is possible
to build walls
none can penetrate
unless you open the gate
yet there is
a distinct choice
to soar like an eagle
beyond the walls
this prison of choice
which encloses thyself
do you have the key
or is it lost in the past
do you stroll
the sandy beach
and watch time
slip between your toes
or do you have the courage
to open the gates
tear down the wall
be mesmerized
by the beauty
that exists
beyond your shores
or will the waves
of reality
hammer your walls
will you regard them as tides
or will you
dive into
the ocean of existence
are you
willing to risk
a peaceful
oblivious existence
for death
beneath the tides
that last gasp
eternity
exists in the moment
the question is
will you blink
or will you accept
reality
the final frontier
darkness
light
the horizon
or a starry night
and be at peace..
beyond black and white
it exists in shades of grey
yet at times we're fatalistic
how
one might ask
yes and no
perhaps
banish that thought
no man is an island
unto himself
so they say
it is possible
to build walls
none can penetrate
unless you open the gate
yet there is
a distinct choice
to soar like an eagle
beyond the walls
this prison of choice
which encloses thyself
do you have the key
or is it lost in the past
do you stroll
the sandy beach
and watch time
slip between your toes
or do you have the courage
to open the gates
tear down the wall
be mesmerized
by the beauty
that exists
beyond your shores
or will the waves
of reality
hammer your walls
will you regard them as tides
or will you
dive into
the ocean of existence
are you
willing to risk
a peaceful
oblivious existence
for death
beneath the tides
that last gasp
eternity
exists in the moment
the question is
will you blink
or will you accept
reality
the final frontier
darkness
light
the horizon
or a starry night
and be at peace..
The Bundle of Joy
there were bars
on the window
the child's innocent eyes
reflected the moon
mirrored
it exploded with lights
his grip tightened
bloody fingers
a single tear
dripped from his eye
a sniffle
salty it hit the bare ground
the child shivered
it was a cold night
he lay down
tormented by the memory
of the day
the one meal
the dark, damp wearhouse
nimble bleeding fingers
wrapping the paper
around gunpowder
inserting the fuse
and putting the firecracker
in a box
out beyond his windows
they celebrate
the festival of lights
even as he lays
in the dark
unable to afford
the bundle of joy
that was his creation
Background: Child Laborers are used to manufacture firecrackers during Diwali (Hindu version of Christmas). This poem is about them
on the window
the child's innocent eyes
reflected the moon
mirrored
it exploded with lights
his grip tightened
bloody fingers
a single tear
dripped from his eye
a sniffle
salty it hit the bare ground
the child shivered
it was a cold night
he lay down
tormented by the memory
of the day
the one meal
the dark, damp wearhouse
nimble bleeding fingers
wrapping the paper
around gunpowder
inserting the fuse
and putting the firecracker
in a box
out beyond his windows
they celebrate
the festival of lights
even as he lays
in the dark
unable to afford
the bundle of joy
that was his creation
Background: Child Laborers are used to manufacture firecrackers during Diwali (Hindu version of Christmas). This poem is about them
Fluid
The fluidity of time is a marvel
It can trickle thru fingers like sand
Drown out thoughts like an avalanche
Sweep one away in a moment
Can be as surprising as a flash flood
Yet as tranquil as a swollen river
Time and thought are both interwoven
An intricate dance occurs between the two
the self being the dancer
but the true dancer is one
who appreciates the beauty of the absence of motion
It can trickle thru fingers like sand
Drown out thoughts like an avalanche
Sweep one away in a moment
Can be as surprising as a flash flood
Yet as tranquil as a swollen river
Time and thought are both interwoven
An intricate dance occurs between the two
the self being the dancer
but the true dancer is one
who appreciates the beauty of the absence of motion
An illusion of safety
Hark
in the distance
I hear bells toll
another has died
I make my way to the square
sanity left behind
in Pandora's box
the key hidden
they announced his name
he was a brother of mine
this is no stranger
on whose command did he die
I rush back home
and search for the key
it was sold eons ago
I traded it for
an illusion of safety
to my brother's master
in the distance
I hear bells toll
another has died
I make my way to the square
sanity left behind
in Pandora's box
the key hidden
they announced his name
he was a brother of mine
this is no stranger
on whose command did he die
I rush back home
and search for the key
it was sold eons ago
I traded it for
an illusion of safety
to my brother's master
Pundits
Pundits
of church
and politics
are vile
they pretend
to be
on an elevated plain
talking down
to the masses
making assumptions
being dramatic
hidden agenda's
veiled interests
and paid
the stench
of dishonesty
is rank
yet for some reason
they are hired
on our screens
and life
we are bombarded
with propaganda
so where
does the blame lay
is it the viewer
uninformed
uninterested
watching merely
for entertainment
the paid hypocrites
spewing lies
with amnesty
or those
who hire them
is it
the stupidity
of our culture
where we make claims
of individuality
yet we march
to drums
in unison
programmed
and fearful
to break free
of church
and politics
are vile
they pretend
to be
on an elevated plain
talking down
to the masses
making assumptions
being dramatic
hidden agenda's
veiled interests
and paid
the stench
of dishonesty
is rank
yet for some reason
they are hired
on our screens
and life
we are bombarded
with propaganda
so where
does the blame lay
is it the viewer
uninformed
uninterested
watching merely
for entertainment
the paid hypocrites
spewing lies
with amnesty
or those
who hire them
is it
the stupidity
of our culture
where we make claims
of individuality
yet we march
to drums
in unison
programmed
and fearful
to break free
Unholy Priests
fragmented faith prevails
as men of cloth clutch their holy books
with fires and passion born of fever unexplained
chanting verses, raising voices
they speak of vengeance
and the fires of hell
they speak of colors of life
some so bright, blinding the congregation
in this spite does every man leave
the seeds of hatred sowed
in this spite does he pick the sword
to chop another head
spilling blood, seeking vengeance
and his son watches on
and cradles the very sword
to grow up like his father
another son watches,
his fathers body desecrated
tears in eyes,
unable to comprehend the violence
he picks up the sword
to kill the man who killed his creator
and so the story goes....
in the church/mosque/temple
holy men pray for the souls of the dead
delivering safely into gods hand
where would these vulture be
had it not been for you and me?
as men of cloth clutch their holy books
with fires and passion born of fever unexplained
chanting verses, raising voices
they speak of vengeance
and the fires of hell
they speak of colors of life
some so bright, blinding the congregation
in this spite does every man leave
the seeds of hatred sowed
in this spite does he pick the sword
to chop another head
spilling blood, seeking vengeance
and his son watches on
and cradles the very sword
to grow up like his father
another son watches,
his fathers body desecrated
tears in eyes,
unable to comprehend the violence
he picks up the sword
to kill the man who killed his creator
and so the story goes....
in the church/mosque/temple
holy men pray for the souls of the dead
delivering safely into gods hand
where would these vulture be
had it not been for you and me?
The Key
It is
with great care
that we construct
our own reality
emphasizing
mischaracterizing
ignoring
repainting
every moment
delicately
we construct
our own cage
those bars
thru which
we observe the world
like a lone child
sans innocence
looking out
the moon
reflected
in his eyes
wishing
he could
chase the horizon
some
have forgotten the dream
and they threw away
the key
for others
it lays in the corner
time sprinkles dust
i hold mine
in my hand
it's fate
undecided
with great care
that we construct
our own reality
emphasizing
mischaracterizing
ignoring
repainting
every moment
delicately
we construct
our own cage
those bars
thru which
we observe the world
like a lone child
sans innocence
looking out
the moon
reflected
in his eyes
wishing
he could
chase the horizon
some
have forgotten the dream
and they threw away
the key
for others
it lays in the corner
time sprinkles dust
i hold mine
in my hand
it's fate
undecided
Mumbai and the Media
The city of dreams
she bleeds tonight
attacked
by ideological idiots
who believe
in an imaginary man
in the sky
who rewards them
for hatred
the blood spilled
is of men
and women
of all color
the common demarcation
is innocence
the battle wages on
and the pundits dissect this
much to the affront
of those who know
an attempt
to create
a narrative
commercializing death
inducing fear
sensationalizing this incident
sans context
you sir
hold a microphone
and telecast yourself
as the world watches
incoherent
and your masters cheer
increased profits
payed by blood
of your own countrymen
never before
have I seen
the craven ambition
of some so young
so cynical
to betray
the city of dreams
for after this day
it is the city of nightmares
allow me to say
it was not
just the terrorists
who are responsible
for the dark streets
it is you
as well
for you refused
to bandage the wound
and chose to
perpetuate unfounded fears
and half truths
repetitions
that minute
comment
can change frames
a country
which may face division
preying on a nations emotion
they say history
repeats itself
it just did
perhaps
but the media
never learns from it
she bleeds tonight
attacked
by ideological idiots
who believe
in an imaginary man
in the sky
who rewards them
for hatred
the blood spilled
is of men
and women
of all color
the common demarcation
is innocence
the battle wages on
and the pundits dissect this
much to the affront
of those who know
an attempt
to create
a narrative
commercializing death
inducing fear
sensationalizing this incident
sans context
you sir
hold a microphone
and telecast yourself
as the world watches
incoherent
and your masters cheer
increased profits
payed by blood
of your own countrymen
never before
have I seen
the craven ambition
of some so young
so cynical
to betray
the city of dreams
for after this day
it is the city of nightmares
allow me to say
it was not
just the terrorists
who are responsible
for the dark streets
it is you
as well
for you refused
to bandage the wound
and chose to
perpetuate unfounded fears
and half truths
repetitions
that minute
comment
can change frames
a country
which may face division
preying on a nations emotion
they say history
repeats itself
it just did
perhaps
but the media
never learns from it
The Waltz
The dew settles
on your shoulders
and the sun
kisses your brow
gently you move
brown leaves crunching
under your feet
music playing
in your head
the rhythm takes over
eyes closed
soft breath
the beauty
of the forest
a smile
sway
the intimacy
her lips
the touch
of her cheek
against yours
hands intertwined
the music
reaches a crescendo
and then
the ensuing silence
fled
who did you dance with
love
death
both
or was it all
a dream
on your shoulders
and the sun
kisses your brow
gently you move
brown leaves crunching
under your feet
music playing
in your head
the rhythm takes over
eyes closed
soft breath
the beauty
of the forest
a smile
sway
the intimacy
her lips
the touch
of her cheek
against yours
hands intertwined
the music
reaches a crescendo
and then
the ensuing silence
fled
who did you dance with
love
death
both
or was it all
a dream
Lessons from illusion
It is weird
to float
in a vacuum
uncaring
as time ticks by
watch the minute hand
move inexorably
towards a final conclusion
the sky remains grey
as you lay
on the couch
staring at the window
unable to summon
the strength
to move
and winter comes
a feeling of cold
wraps around you
and penetrates the soul
till the heart
seemingly skips a beat
jolted
you awake in a sweat
suspended
not sure whether that was a dream
or is now a hallucination
breath shallow
parched mouth
look out of the window
the world is the same
our existence and reality
is a bubble
in which we reside alone
for when the night comes
surrounded as you may be
by strangers and friends
when your eyes close
and death sucks
the wind out of your lungs
reality ceases
and the bubble bursts
it is for you alone
and that is the lesson
one can learn from nightmares
to float
in a vacuum
uncaring
as time ticks by
watch the minute hand
move inexorably
towards a final conclusion
the sky remains grey
as you lay
on the couch
staring at the window
unable to summon
the strength
to move
and winter comes
a feeling of cold
wraps around you
and penetrates the soul
till the heart
seemingly skips a beat
jolted
you awake in a sweat
suspended
not sure whether that was a dream
or is now a hallucination
breath shallow
parched mouth
look out of the window
the world is the same
our existence and reality
is a bubble
in which we reside alone
for when the night comes
surrounded as you may be
by strangers and friends
when your eyes close
and death sucks
the wind out of your lungs
reality ceases
and the bubble bursts
it is for you alone
and that is the lesson
one can learn from nightmares
Barriers
The ability
of the mind
to absorb
all that is around
is limited
not by
it's capacity
rather
it is imposed
as we choose
events
unfold constantly
hardly register
yet the buzz
of an insect
can irritate
the beauty
of a woman
can arouse
the scent
of a rose
can thrill
the profoundness
of words
can move a people
to rise
so one may wonder
how these barriers
are set up
where the death
of children
out of sight
ow within
becomes a statistic
where people
are measured
not in human terms
but numbers
for the walls
and all that lies withing
the ability to absorb
and appreciate
represents
a snapshot in time
the sane portion
of an insane mind
of the mind
to absorb
all that is around
is limited
not by
it's capacity
rather
it is imposed
as we choose
events
unfold constantly
hardly register
yet the buzz
of an insect
can irritate
the beauty
of a woman
can arouse
the scent
of a rose
can thrill
the profoundness
of words
can move a people
to rise
so one may wonder
how these barriers
are set up
where the death
of children
out of sight
ow within
becomes a statistic
where people
are measured
not in human terms
but numbers
for the walls
and all that lies withing
the ability to absorb
and appreciate
represents
a snapshot in time
the sane portion
of an insane mind
Thyself
Life
the unexpected
not unlike
an unexpected raindrop
on a cold day
trickling down your face
as time becomes real
for a few moments
for is it not in moments
we live
fleeting glimpses
inwards
questions cease
contemplation ends
here
now
and then
we awake
to a ticking clock
counting moments
to whatever future
that awaits us
dreams, existence, fears
hopes, desires, prejudice
all collide
eyes cloud
unfocused
a contrast
to what was a moment ago
clarity fades
quiet smile
a silent recognition
you're not an observer
nor yourself
just a distant stranger
who pretends
to be
thyself!!
the unexpected
not unlike
an unexpected raindrop
on a cold day
trickling down your face
as time becomes real
for a few moments
for is it not in moments
we live
fleeting glimpses
inwards
questions cease
contemplation ends
here
now
and then
we awake
to a ticking clock
counting moments
to whatever future
that awaits us
dreams, existence, fears
hopes, desires, prejudice
all collide
eyes cloud
unfocused
a contrast
to what was a moment ago
clarity fades
quiet smile
a silent recognition
you're not an observer
nor yourself
just a distant stranger
who pretends
to be
thyself!!
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