Am singing this song to myself alone-
Alone and alone and alone
In my bed of comfort and relaxation
Though filled with thorns and tears
But they make it sweet.

This song of mine to a sucking baby you must not sing
For he sings it in the absence of the mother
When hunger reminds him of the lyrics
It’s a tough song left for men with hairy chest
Oh it’s an everyday song that the living sings
And it’s my song.

Dust

Smoking patio
breathing pine bush
leaves of green razor.

The march leaf hanging like a crippled
butterfly–

A starless morning,
the cuffed breeze,
a sky’s crisp condescension
the blueness of your monster:
to speak in taxidermy,
empty sound bytes

your mouth reeling celluloid
stuffed with black feathers. I
will not see you long again, it
should grow dark tonight

You will talk your way back into it.

Distant jingle of ice-cream truck
through the humming of my computer
redirects my thoughts and destructs
the walls of my solitude.

There are sweet and cold treats
waiting to be picked up,
children laugh and birds whistle
the Prince of Denmark’s March.

Yes, it’s a wedding
of day and night.
In the arching darkness
it is synchronized with fireflies
and whispering lisp
of leaves and branches.

I trace
road map of
future to be

don't see
corner stores
to replenish

what if
my pen starves
of its essence?

Prosaic Mosaic now Archaic

Emotion is just an inner feeling
thoughts are an issuance
while the words are the outcome
born out of such an amalgamation
so said poets before

If I say
of yore
many of Neo will say
O what a bore
the archaic-ness is for sure
ole silly poet only yours

Let us not forget
our roots and parentage
our initial seeds
as we cannot forget the
fundamentals
basics of our genes

so all Neo's you may
still freely sprinkle with

From Bethel
To Golgotha
The house of God
To the place of the skull
Place names
Have defined us
Even as we have defined them

The difference is gargantuan
However
Between seeing a headline
In the Washington Post

And walking the streets
Hiding from police or parents
First cigarettes and kisses
At Forest Diner

And then high school
And math tests and sporting events
And cars and beers
At Hell House

I penned it down
Let it be read every where
I adore thee
Please let me be taken-
To a place of safety.
Let me be among the first fruit;
Let me not be left out.
I don’t want to be a residue.
I want to escape the fire that is coming.
My only goal…
Help me save my soul.

Some persons and a few nations
Borderline insecurity
Proscriptions and persecutions
Removal of immunity

Illegal invasions war crimes
Tipping point duly approaching
Criminal court proceeding times
Due just punishment processing

Current balance unworkable
Time for graceful abdication
Need for leadership reshuffle
Regional borders revision

Absence of the source aggression
Resulting in stability
Logical common progression
Peaceful regional unity

Cover my trunk,
I would have it warm.

The mother carries
For nine months.
The bird sits her eggs.
Why not then want warmth
Life springs from there;

Do not buds unfold in beauty,
Within earth's warm arms.!

So, cover my bosom
My vitals lodge there,
My instinct and my heart

And though the brain
Parades upon the neck,
Within its cranium cave;

It is in the bosom
My mind finds warmth.

So cover my trunk
I would have it warm.