smoky trails

smoke, not nuclear debris
blows into the air, acrid too,
tickling my nose. 

I watch the train on the bridge,
fascinated by the train of smoke,
a dark trail in clear sky

the seeds of toil on the ground-
a much needed respite from drudgery-
I touch my nose yet again

burnt ground, folly of merciless sun
or something unknown buried deep 
by black suited man

in the deep dark night-
all so hush hush,
where thoughts too are censored

on a clear day, I look at myself,
almost translucent skin-
nothing so spectacular

"mutant life abounds where I live
isolated, but for the train.
even smoke is a welcome diversion"

rainy illusion

when the fiery wind sings

Old Bank Street, Manchester, UK by R.A.D. Stainforth 

you hold my arm
(it makes a nice frame for pictures)
you have mastered that craft
to create illusions

just a deal, that show of caring
it can't repair the damage,
fathom deep, cracked to the edges

such a close call
why would anyone add to it
those redundant emotions
I want it back, I want to exist
I don't trust chance anymore

"the billow of clouds, 
cloud my mind, 
and I let you hold my hand"

broken like that venus

the ghost of a sky opens up for us

showing a glimpse of its mighty anger

by the way of thunder 

but lightning is really the path
if a circle can be called that

fear of the unknown tears into us
when the howl of the wind rises and rises
veins go icy cold despite the heated flesh
I place my hands on the granite table,
empty and cold, through and through

you fill the bathtub for me
yet I feel so abandoned
when the howling winds call out names
I can sense the weight of loss
of something as yet un-named

"a fallen tree, its broken twigs, all speak of chaos out there"

fly away

perched on the precipice 
of uncut emotions
the delicate yearning never stops

the petals may bloom
rivulets may fall into the river
but the blues will not leave me alone

such a hopeless case
however much I might do
the Satan of bad words follow me always

that tiny bit of positive energy
is the umbrella that keeps me safe
from the sharpness of your clownish tongue

"why should I accept the negative?
why should you even offer it?"

not just a comma

emptiness
what of it, why act on it?
just a state of blankness
held by silent tears 
which dry before they fall

the child curls into a comma
questing for loving warmth
but the cold cobbled track is not saintly
and angels offer no solace

that finger is my cue
to stay as silent as I can
before science helps crack my memory
the pebbles hurt my bare feet
while I wrestle with my empty thoughts

"silence bangs hard within my mind
while I hold on to the cloth pegs"

all in a day's work....

Action Figures by Edith Vonnegut

I emit anger
and look like a clown
half naked with a vacuum cleaner

still it does not instill fear
in my kids,
rather burst into fits of laughter

they throw their fleece jackets,
now buck naked
they fly around my head

sound of broken glass
fill my head
I tumble drunkenly

slick like a seal,
one kid hugs me
another smiles gleefully

"our cat has a wounded look
why?
because it has missed all the fun"

random words

I need
I need to spread my wings
I must not let the clouds to host in my heart
I don't want the state to rescue me
who needs a patron
when one has oneself?
the ticking will go on 
to measure my depth of misery
I will spend my day in inducing humility

but why?

you may dance now
with as many as you want
my heart will race to catch you
and you will be back
where you belong


 "the question is where do you really belong?"

beyond the wall

wishing for sunshine
I put my clothes to dry
in the belief that my wish would be granted

a normal, mundane life
is it too much to ask?
a new shelter for my dreams

dedicated to my task
I sing tunelessly
with a resolve with no sustenance

should I wait for a revolution
for things to turn my way
with a design of my dreams

ultimately, when I do review my life
I won't be able  to see the war
you win, or I win
we both lose on the humanity front

killing innocents for what?

may you burn in hell
killer of children
you took away their choice to live
you ignored the panic in their eyes
you did not listen
you did not talk
you, as always just killed
how can you get high on blood and gore
that too of innocent children
no sweat flowed from you
only bullets, only bullets

yet you forgot
if you snag even one life
thousands will rise to incinerate you
you deserve nothing less for diffusing the stars

dusk is but a chimera

that spacecraft is waiting
planets are aligned
let me tread slowly into space
but first I must tangle with you

call me a lunatic or a loser if you must
you are aware I have to spread my wings
one of my endeavors to explore the beyond
leaving behind my very own angel

I am forever spinning into dreams
whatever you say, I won't sway
I will come back someday
born on a Christmas day

"that crowd is akin to shroud
I wish for silence to be loud"