A Monster
A wolf in sheepskin
Hunts,
Tracking pursuit
Following a bloody trail
Prints of a paw, a claw
Of five
To connect the guilt
With the mind
Responsible
Category: Poetry
Alley Cats
Mid Night Crawlers
Unaware
That it is dark
Unsure
If alive or dead
In morning twilight
They dance the razorblade tango
Whirling recklessly
At the edge of life.
Awake since forever
Spirit spurred on
With caffeine and nicotine.
Two things I obsessively read:
License plates and graffiti
No matter how obscure or obscene.
A Bard
A poet on a mystic path
My song is without a melody,
But with the rhythm of life
And the tune of the breeze
Under the thrum of eyes watching
Amidst the trees.
Only for a moment
Then it is gone.
Transcendent Life Preserver
Drunk on knowledge
Parched of meaning
Certain of direction
Lost in application.
We are capable,
I believe,
To create something
GOOD
Regardless of subjectivity.
From despair and depravity
A human can create beauty
In their world
Through the loves they share,
The pain they endure
And the ability –
Followed by determination –
To BELIEVE
And to share this hope
What some call religion
Others faith
I call transcendence.
Our defining quality
So mired by culture
Based on animal wills,
An inadmission to guilt –
A fearful refusal to speak
Invades the thinking
And beliefs of an entire society.
Art is not perfect
Yet it is our gift
That we all possess
From the most basic
Of sensual experience
An image can elicit emotion
Passion and psychic energy
Equally Disoriented
Trapped in a solitary bubble
Surrounded by people that I don’t know
So much potential
That I’m afraid to use
I am afraid of failing
Afraid of feeling
Secluded within myself
Still reeling from past hurt and confusion
My life is my own now
And I’m trying to forget who I was
And where I’m from
To begin my new life
But the past is who I am
When will I realize
That we are doomed to become
What we hate the most?
I long for the day
When I am at home
Within myself
Wherever I may be
So I can stop running
And just live.
Right now I am alone
In the universe
And equally disoriented
Anywhere I go
Economic Warfare
Economic Warfare: A paper war of cash, cheques
And casualties time has forgotten, bloodless corpses
Hollowed-out edifices, houses of corporate capitalisms
Entities not human, Frankensteins of a legal system
Not accountable for their abuses, not apologetic
Just profit machines, monsters to serve their masters
Propelled by the sweat of paid slavery, voluntarily submitted
With no other choice but to obey, threatened with poverty
The plantation allows us to go home, where the media coerces us to spend
A circular cycle of fear, entrapment, labour, gratification and fear
Worse than dead, dead broke without hope of satisfying desires
An illusion of success, an enigmatic ladder, a stairway
To heaven? Or an elevator to the top floor
For some impossible to get on; for some impossible to get off
From the rundown slum, the suburbs or the penthouse with a view
All just cogs on the gears of this battle that never ends.
Ascent of Dissent
I feel like a criminal
An outcast, incorrigible
For my misanthropism
And my refusal to comply
With the fire within
That burns to destroy and create
And the struggle to resist
What I know to be wrong
So I live my life
With freedom of mind
If not of action
And begrudgingly submit
To a world of false ideals
With a hope of a master plan
That is yet to unfold
that I should profane
That I should profane
These pages with such thoughts
A delicious guilt
Of defiling something new
A Horrid Realization
Ritual abusers,
in whatever stripe they come –
Their ceremonies
You know the ones…
They’re supposed to represent life:
A life
From conception
That’s the part they show in movies –
Birth
Voila
To death
All represented neatly
In one ceremony
Cool right?
Clever even
But despicable beyond all reason
And it gets worse
You’d think, oh
At least it’s over
For the poor thing
Wrong!
That’s the very point of the rite
Not just the blood
The essence
The life energy
But the soul
A slave is born
A slave
To a slave
In a farm
To make more
The bottom
Of this depravity
I fear
We have not reached
Yet
We need to free those souls trapped
That cannot be permitted to stand
These are vile creatures
With a black hole for a soul
And no amount of hell-bound souls
Enslaved
Can feed what has no bottom
an IT conspiracy
think about it
they’re everywhere
in every company
they manage the pipelines
design, maintain
the routes of the most sensitive data
now, of course, there’s cryptography
that’s great at keeping individual bits locked
but zoom out further
every IT professional
either work for a company with robust protocols to keep their data safe
or work for a company that works for another, with non-disclosure agreements up the wazoo
So that’s fine; all the data stays tucked away, high in the cloud
But what’s between the lines?
What can be inferred by what is not said?
Which companies have agreements with whom?
And the boots on the ground, they know where at least some of the bodies are buried
They know what they’re asked to do and not do
But they have an idea of what is what and what goes where
So, in the lines between what is not said, as much from what is
Could be pieced together the most valuable
Dangerous and incendiary secrets