There's a violent storm swarming the throes of my thinking tube
It rumbles on with its whims and fancies
and,
I'm numbed somewhere in the whirlwind
A myriad imagery of my journey's thru time
flow thru' in kaleidoscopic sparks,
just fractions, not novel visions
I'm torn within them as if flown around
Twisting and twirling, being thrown around bodily but
the senselessness lies someplace else
as its the mind which seems to pendulate thru poles
The hideous aspect of thought: says
all thoughts even thoughts of endearment
seems meekly thwarted around
unable to grab itself unto a single cell, and stay
the focus does not stay on the leaf, the normal state
it flies around different trees sometimes even vaguely on to the brown
earth
Weird shapes carry people I know, rumbling down the hill
I am not able to save them
They just loose my grip always
I wouldn't know who they were as the next image
stores itself straight upon me
before I can conjure up the strength
to put a name to the image
But the view is enough to say, I know
Where are these people running
why are they descending down the hill
why aren't they floating above in rising goblets
The fear is in the descend,
the floating rise is descent and
It makes me, I'm going above the zenith
but this is nadir, and I'm reeling in its drowsiness
A strange semblance to my gal, you
rises up from the ashes
you resemble a sorta goblin
but why is it resembling you
Its a death goblin I've read in those "R" comics
why you?
Oh no! its not you, its another float of imagery
Its an amalgamation of my mother's face and yours
In fact, mebbe its all the same
cause you resemble my mother in more ways than one
Acrylic on cloth, sand paper rubbed hard
after ironing out the rust
a ragged imagery floats on the skin
The stories of old floats in
The black guy curses me calls me a "nigger"
The white guy on the left pulls my li'l nibble of hair
calls me "Cookie'
The Chinese guy in the corner curses & spits on me
calls me "choco-nut"
The Hispanic is silent but a volcanic eruption
waits half way thru his heart
I'm stuck, cornered cause not a single face in the crowd resembles
Parched throats, deep within African peninsula
They trade wives for American sausages
Beautiful black people
stark clean skin not a single pore to show
It's pitch clear and clean, the skin, as if
squeakily washed every minute
I admire the passion for the new world,
a kinda poetic disillusion
of stark realities which we consider part of the game
Untouched by communication
They reach their brothers running miles on days
The green expanse and the watery graves are there gods
We call them Heathens
but, they have a charming reach unto the nether world
they do not rationalize, the mind speaks only "WYSIWYG"
They coined the word much later in the new world
I'm enthralled by the simplicity of thought
there is no meandering
The white man brought the confusions
and now they carry a gun to reduce the pressure within
I got a li'l bogged down whence I saw them
maim a li'l lamb to roast and treat me
for the li'l gifts I bestowed of fruits and sausages
But the scrawny looking elder explained
In a voice drowned in the celebration drums
'it's but a cycle the whole universe
I eat the lamb, if not me the Lion does
that way, I will be the fool
I excrete the refuse remains unto the dark floor of the earth
either the earth retains its composure
as manure to its hot humid floors
or the pig brags about an enjoyable meal
it keeps going a cycle to survive
a beautiful cycle - never ending; created by god knows who;
I dipped my hands deep within the meaty inner of the roasted lamb
slept in delirium of the day;
I'm at the top of food chain
I'm in East Timor, fledgling forests
'Guerrilla warfare': I have this single word perched inside of me
Nobody is fighting but i can see this word
It's crumbling, electricity is a dream,
Broken down buildings house hospitals
even schools have teachers outnumber pupils
notebooks are rare gifts from visitors; social workers
pencils and pens are atypical sights
its oral education, the human brain at its fiery best
Red paint, I've never seen a school with red color work
running noses, bleeding gums, but they're smiling,
kids are always cheery
My friend goes click click click
says he wants to keep the images for posterity
for his Dane mates to say Woh!
it's a Canon, one touch zoom lens
another mate from London
chats half way round the world with her boy
Its Wi-Fi to us, its Voodoo for them
I smile at the Lucifer's li'l chuckle on the game
Brazilian slums, loads and loads of people
Chinese are a plenty,
One from Henan province tells
they fled their country cause of the crowd
he's happy here, I've never been to Henan
They fight in Portuguese, it's pure cussing
the tiresome irritability that one acquires in uncontrolled conception
The daily grind, the fight for the meal
the continuous, grueling competition
It is the jungles, back again
If I don't eat the lamb, my pal would.
Its a big country they bragged - about theirs
I later was around books, geography
says, quarter of the country is Amazon,
the other half is the forest
Their arrogance is worth the effort
'cause I visited the forest and the basin
they are chopping everything hindering their path
Voice of the conservationist is just a murmur
the cracks and loudness of timber
and the greenbacks it carried is louder
New York city resembles another jungle from the top
It's a real estate guys paradise lost
ready to be regained thru' birds-eye views
they are still building around and about
I get a blurred vision of green - central park
It's tired and trying to breathe hard, asthmatic almost choking,
I weep
This land of the nature loving Reds
eroded by marauding concrete and human exodus
of every creed and color
and they named it the new world
whose mistake was it that they found it late
'cause they found it late, they called it that
Vegetarian Asian - Indians swarm every corner
they pray the cow, here they make steak slimy and soft
They parade the grounds in some Mega-city or other
Loud voice for the calorie frightened
a mellowed tone and unrealistic for red meat lovers
There's a catch
I met one aficionado
he munched on skillfully made beef
he told me its the female that is god
The male does not even come close
Closet meat buffs, poor Bull.
I come from a land where hypocrisy rules - it's called earth
everybody is somebody else really
they act rather nice and easy
They are tuned in that manner
be nice with everybody, that's the big word - nice
they act and act and act
It's a dramatic display until the end
Grappling with the real me and the outside me
It's all normal just a walk in the park
everybody shows happy with what they have
Its a world of happiness, no hassles
no disillusionment
Brenda from Norway flirts with me in Belgium
I'm crossing the continent,
Flirting with time and space
Its a different world every time, you travel 3 hours more
She's on her way to Spain, running away
running from the dawn and dusk world of Norway
says she wanna feel the Sun on her anatomy
It's rather platonic her crave for good old Sun
The grass is always green at the other end
We always crave for what we do not have
And we forget the charm of what we have
Its the irony of existence, Sartre spoke so
It's never gonna change, Amen
