Beneath Us

late into the night/
creep out the bastard children/
falling out of the crevices of this city/
like a million others/
many amongst them almost went under the knife/
the ones that survived look up/
with a hope to see the starlit sky/
as a compensation for the annexed daylight/
and all they get to see is us/
moving around in our staged pompous fuss/
we never had the courage to look at them/
looking at me and you/
we feared if we ever did/
they would spit on our faces and tell us/
the only thing left with a soul are your shoes/

hüzün

The despair of a muscle pumping with ragged beats

Against the chest it thumps raving to get out

Suffocated confused deluged with delusion

One moment tenderness the other fire it spits

Give me away no don’t give me away

It rants its feverish chants

Rest of the body held hostage by the string

Left of center the center of the circus’s ring

A meditating soothsayer

Behaving like a lunatic master puppeteer

Unleashing the stampede of a million wildebeests

With a new found taste for gambling

Setting rational madness and irrational beliefs scrambling

Trading an ounce for an ounce

Greedy only to give away be ripped out and find peace

At the moment of its seven pounds

Gods on E!

threadbare

my once able-bodied humanity/

now stripped of it modesty and humility/

lies warm in sheets of silk and muslin/

woven together with threads of gold/

and laughs at the shadow of its old humble soul/

threadbare and shivering out in the cold/

With books as with men

That old book lying in the corner/
Ignored, invisible, gathering dust/
Calls out, hurls out words and then hoarse whispers/
Pick me up, dust the dust away, please you must/
Turn the page over/
Look closer/
There is a story dying to be told/
Names, people, places, in there, growing listlessly old/
Dreaming the dream that someone would give them
their eyes/
That someone, late into the night, would softly narrate their lives/
That someone would set them free/
Free them from their hard bound captivity/
Even if just for a fleeting moment/
Starting from the lips to the heart it may be/

hope

Round n Round n Round We Go

They call it a life circle.

Does that mean every time you take a step forward, you actually end up being that much closer to your past? In that sense, isn't past the only thing that will last?

If we are going around in circles, won't the point of origin and end together come? what then, are we getting to and what are we getting away from?

If what goes around, comes around, doesn't it then make more sense to stand your ground, than going on? And wtf then is moving on?

If we are going to finish from where we started, does that mean you're going to bump into all those from whom you have parted?

They call it a life circle for a reason, i know. The reason just passed me by though.