Raining in the Pink

Pink is always the Color

To find out the obsession of your inner

Dirty water muddy chameleon

Slime oozing through the spores of the sinner

Breaking the love made out of steel

Because it's just numbness you only feel

Pink is always the color

Eyes blood shot becomes the winner

Pharmaceutical advancements and miracles

Made us all ignorant losers

Cringed every time the clock struck home

Everything became more and more and bigger and better

Fire in the Void

When you look, just beyond the edge of reason

Friction in your conscious logic,

This world has painted your vision grey,

Why won't the ignorant turn to listen, quite amusing

When you see the knees with calluses,

from praying in a river of tears. 

Then you will cut the rock as if it's your spirit,

Amidst the confusion and fear

Write a letter to your future doom,

Killing the insignificant roles one life plays out here.

Gaze at the river with longing,

As if its stream of your blood-seeking the cold embrace.

I'm standing along with my cards laid bare

Willingly cutting open the veins of pain,

And let it drip, drop by drop

Fresh as a coined scar, face ashen with zen,

I'm the lottery of your incompetence

Fishing for a lie, in a sea barren of lifeless truths

Smite my face for a permanent greet

Become what I feared to become

In disgrace and self-hate,

Fighting for a place at the end of the line

Kinetic Soul

Motor highway veins of poison, more than you wanted

Asked for an escape into,

There lived a pessimist holed up on a mountain cliff,

It's worse than any abyss.

It's the last place you will seek, some call it freedom but others;

Loneliness. You call it a hermit's tomb.

Smoke wooden fires, they glow and burn.

They make you suffocate with the freedom around you.

Chillums are alit and called the ashram like masked men,

Always masked men. They will wait with a bowl. Until you call.

Dogs are getting better meat than you,

A banker turned baba, a fake serpent with his fangs inside his robes.

Your women were used and abused and refused,

while you slept your ignorant slumber.

Should you know the truth and suffer?

Should I hide you from the wombs pain and keep you happy,

like a babe in his cot; stupid till age takes his toll

On you. On me. On everyone. Time is the all-in winner.

Today. Tomorrow you will still be a hypocrite.

The Carnival of Frowns

The life-stream, muddy, rocky, frothing,

Go with the flow they say, sitting by the river bank.

The life-stream is not a physical entity,

Again and again, they sat gazing and gestured,

"Go with the flow', "Go with the flow, my child"

I looked and saw madness and currents streaming down

The river looked like a serpent,

fleeing an attacker, writhing away in panic.

These are the hypocrites,

sitting there by the banks, and teaching spiritual hungry souls.

These are the ones who fear the river,

But wishes to see another struggle and drown.

"Go with the flow," they said

I jumped in and let the river's water engulf me

Dragged me, violent and forceful. I let go.

The last I saw of the hypocrites by the bank,

Were a carnival of frowns.

View from the Hills

A rainbow stretches from the sun.
Brushing the horizon with shades of orange,
On the edges of a crescent moon,
Among the goblins dressed like elves.

Only the worst junk gets collected here,
At the princess's tea party, we serve the trolls.
But nay! This is only a movie set of an 80's science flick. No fear.
Everyone is hunting easter eggs that went down a rabbit hole.

Peaches that were pink and blue,
Had poison for the rotten parts of our souls.
We knick and bleed, drop by drop into the tree
Killing it to make it again. There is no pain. Only ecstatic howls.

They breed with the fungi,
They scrape their asses clean with bellflowers.
Rummy nights on the beaches or the hills,
They are well known across the land simply as morons.

Love

Heaven can be a place,

Far away, never to be reached in health,

A road built by pessimist blinding

Far far away, lost until perhaps death.

Faithless, raving and craving

Like demons, devouring ourselves,

Help seem a dream, fading and fleeting

Far away, perhaps until ashes in hell

Once the eyes we once saw closed

Opens the sight within you, like a flood gate that flows,

It’s like light, exploding so slowly, a night flower,

Far far away we thought, oh we thought so wrong

I felt Him before, since the day I was born

Never knew for what it was, shrouded with masks made of glass and straw,

Far away not, but inside us the Truth lay,

It’s Love. He is always here. And always was.

S.T.F.U

They wanted me to bind my arms, bind my legs.

They wanted me to cover my ears, blindfold my eyes.

Now they want me to tie my tongue.

As if that would obliterate my mind.

For the words of a soul is forever endearing.

As the Book bears witness to this simple cry.

A sleeping slave would always dream.

As the words of Gibran once said.

And once he awakes and opens his eyes.

Comprehending freedom in a world gone mad.

The tyrant's hand of suppression reveals.

The truth it tries to hide, in desperation so sad.