A selten sonntag morn

Heute –

Only have eye witnessed them rays
Floating down my skins
liebkosen my Seele
Not in any last Woche
Have die Pfade reflecteđ such warmth
All Though the leaves..
They never halt dancing everyday.
But oh diese machtig unberechenbar weather
Succeeds to get es all back..everytime
More into a nicht gut aber
usual dead deutsch kleve tag
And I walk and walk and walk
While The lights have gone from rot to grün’
And the cathedral gloche has been ringing für minutenlang…
But i have standen still
Watching the crayons fill die himmel
Preety much still
Trynta Figure out ways
To separate the bows into sieben
When all I can weave is nearly..closely..only..5
Yea nevermind
I have started to confuse
my SADNESS over madness
So i light up the Feuer
and often smoke the coldness away.
Oft on this park in the Nachbarschaft
Barely with kinder
But one can hear them Baum singen
Mostly der hunde take stroll
Sometimes squirrel they visit by
But I swing and swing and swing
And smoke the kalt away.

 

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My Schulter hurts of dragging these along..
Guess die responsibilities are higher when you are all alone.

Einhundertvierundvierzig hours of being scattered
Finally fine dose of schlaf have i gathered
Amidst all doubts and uncertainities
Back and forth to Stadt and cities
I have found it .
More than die Suche thats now been done
I am glücklich for having kein debt to noone
Have stood tall
waay vorher the downfall
Not fucking owning to some homeland pal
And relying on thier so called mercy..
While it;s even hart for du to share your Tur’s key
There yu are still babbling shit about unity
Fuck your being eine among the same nationality
All you gave..was same ..lame..doubtfull stare
Well wirklich nicht did i swallow your fake care!
Thee see ..
even though my loved ones are not here. not near.
It’s the same blut we share..
And within . Wir sind connected
They are in my heart
Forever in my head
And untill I am dead..
Every fucking Sekunde
Ich bin charged with-
the strength
the power
from
the
support
that holds me..
The traum that motivates me.
Even on my own
I am a Hurrikan
To break all the chain
With every pain..I have more to gain
I am a solo fighter
A believer
And I know’
Das morgen gonna be much more brighter..
After all..

You have to believe. .Not wish . not hope. not pray . not beg..you just have to beleive that there’s a way out of it and you will find it [Sic ]

The Eruption

13 and it begins…
The process of stowing up dreams and stepping into the juncture of struggle. Lurked by vigorous fragnance of independence. .dropped here. .into the nowhereland where reality seems hunted and symmetry distorted. Here.. I am..without being bedizened, an alien strolling down the unknown autumn paths. While this gelid Gale hasnot stopped penetrating through my bones .. every drop of them drizzle hits hard thrusting me into a realm of beleiving how one can be homesick and homeless at a same time but never hopeless.

13 and now it has begun..

To adhere to my roots and be stronger than ever.

श्वःश्व

अहम् एकः शीतक ।
अलस ..अलम ..
महालसा.. अत्यधिकम् निरुद्यम ।
आम्, तत् सत्यम् ,
गदायते प्रकामम् .
” बहिः संनिदाघ तिग्म दिवाकर परन्तु मनोदशा सङ्ग्रहम् निःसरति च ” वदति एतत् वाक्य वारं वारम् , वारं वारम्… एतादृशी सम्पूर्णम् दिनम् समतिवाहयति ।

एवंविध विलम्बन  । न परं कर्मन् अपि भक्षण ।

हे   जिन्दगी !

The Mere conundrum of Being

I wonder if it’s us fleeting away fast or if its the time accelerating way faster ?

Either way, we seem to loose grip over hours and possibilities and this so called “life”. Loosing grip huh! Yeah, talk about reality. But again Reality is boring. Truth is boring. This whole fucking planet is boring. Or maybe it’s us, that’s boring. We are so boring that we have to sporadically dip ourselves in a pickle jar to supersede all them species that this existence has been missing. Or maybe we are just bored. So bored that
We quit jobs.
Quit partying.
Quit almost anything sociable.

While there ..Most of them folks are already hitched and happy (Oh happy is such a dubious word) : Here we are… Half lives lived and still single. May be we are just not the dating material types or maybe its but the fear material instead : Fear of intimacy. Fear of commitment. Fear of dependency: Fear of how soon we might quit on LOVE too.

Such a disgrace to this invigorating age.  For all we are but insipid house-daughters gleaning stars from the ceiling and planting flowers on walls. ..Thinking at nights.. dreaming during lights. Either sleeping excessively or ne’er. For Sleep is boring. Since then you have to wake up each morning searching for the lost answers under your pillow – of – how could people be so happy ( why is happy such a dubious word? ) to wake at 6. Shit. Piss. Eat and ride couples hour to reach the toiling hole where you turn into some fucking automaton so you can acquire sweets outta your sweats ? Money, huh! Talk about what it can’t buy

It can buy you the mellifluous tune. Even A ticket to the moon..
Great view on afternoons from the wafting red hot air balloon..

Well ! it can buy you everything you don’t need..like extra boobs and artificial looks..cool extravagant gadgets that turn you into some zombie midgets. But all I want is fishes, but Nevermind : the thing is .. We seldom own this money thing, thy see. But When we do, Oh ! likea maniac , Mad . mad . we roam libraries and thrift stores and all roads less traveled. But mostly we don’t. But mostly we are broke as fuck. So we rather stay home , babbling with the non livings and then sobbing over random feelings. We are pathetic. The hills are our only hang out space. We are so pathetic that We squiz from the top and act as if we own it all..
The breeze..the trees
The clouds.. every vacant array between house’es
Of
the
town
that
Has failed to own us.

Pigmenting our souls- rainbow and lungs- noir black, we wonder if it’s us that’s pathetic or maybe it is but the town. This ghastly town..overriped and busy; so pathetically  busy on thyselves to not care But gratify the other. Too busy that they don’t even have a sec to pick their stumbled echt up. No wonder everything is superficial here – but not the filth or the Flaks; myan Only the concrete jungles could multiply here  NOT US We can’t even behold the setting horizon merge into the floating blues here . Neither the reflection of rising rays on the diamond alps. But mostly We could never behold us as one among them here. May be we don’t fit in the pieces or maybe its just a wrong puzzle we are mislayed in.

 

 S O     B O R I N G  ! ! !

 

Vortex

Words theyv been feeble
Waves much unstable
Wallowing on the spectrum
Of overruling phantasm:
And eye have become…
Nothing.
Nothing but an oddball-
| Certifiable |
tenebrous influence-
| Socially unacceptable |
Day by day getting more and more..
un..available.
And All these Stoicism
All those optimism
Now have been
Swamped away by the skepticism
While every destructive mechanism –
They
Swift..
along..
The throat level
( choking )
And It is all inescapable
For them Crus are Tethered
Catatonic and unfeathered
Aaand
I am
choking
on
Every hit
of ripples
That I swallow
For this pond is
narrow
Way too shallow.
For me…
to
Sink.

Beam in a socket

Tornado of Boiling waves
Whirling within the bolted cranium
Hunting wolves
Hungry and chained
Hunted roòm
Hurling sunshine
The hit
The push
Falling Marks on skin..
red and blue and noir sun..shine
Sinking dribbles on skin..
Pale and brackish. the anaemic  sun..shine
Buds on broken branch
Thirsty and dolorous..
but the sun shines gloomy
the sun shines crestfallen !!

 

Fervour

As the warm stratus ..
surrenders itself to the peeking rays
and there you find yourself..
above them all..
surrounded by greens..
parallel to the floating cotton balls.
then you look down towards the concrete jungle
al..mo’st like placing coloured cubicles
is not it?
i wonder what the smell of wormwood and pine tress does to you..
O’ hast it always driven me the pavements to deja vu
you know, like
the musty.. barky smell..
the beaten paths..
all so wonted.
and..an..d..
when you witness those Bonelli’s Eagles soaring..
soaring and gliding in circles and round
and higher… a n d higher
don’t you ever have this urge?
you know, like
with every effort of teasing your lungs grey
you inhale this strong urge..
to strip down the gist of your existence..
not those typical chronic anxious thoughts
but stilll..inert and serene ponders..
As the smoulder merges into the breathing breeze
it drifts you to a mental empire:
where the itch finds you itself.
all
there..
among those blooming wildflowers
in the rhythms of cricket chorus
the choir of Passerine..
the thunders without rain..
within the cracks of landslip
i have found it audibly
on the birthing rainbows
dwindling post-haste..
right before your eyes.
perhaps like the time ..
pretty much like us.

but that could had been instead but a spectre of the brocken right ?

kənˈfʌɪd

Po-sse-ssing these few
On my fin-gers and My Toes
— not much but e-nough

Sun-ken lo-yal-ty
surged in-to the a-byss of
syn-the-tic shrug off .

Suck-ing in-to voids
An e-ni-g-ma ma-chine
–The Con-fu-sion cirque.

en-mi-ty vents
pro-pa-ga-ting sooth-sa-yer—
Such A par-a-no-id

frail-ty to in-dulge
E-ven with the count-a-ble –
Please no more stran-gers .

For throng fur-ni-shes
Noth-ing but suf-fo-ca-tion_
vague sanc-tu-a-ry

So ra-ther eye lurk
With-in the truest fond-ness : My :
_______ im- ag – i- na – tion !

Blooming season is here.

Fireball peels off it’s hard edges..
Peels off em’ blues all open..
Engulfing pulps all pale
Walloping timbres on windowpane-
Colors have now begin to burgeon here
As naked trees start weaving
thier shawls around branches
Tucking its bust with foliate
The red And white erotic sap
Seduces all Apiformes
And cocoons all they crack
As roses erects on dry terra firmas.

Even the Sun has bloomed here
On streets and corners
With Trees and Sickles and Cows
New promises and neverending vows
Such festive atmosphere here
The populace in alliance
With Optimism and consonance
blooming on thoroughfare-
yodelling and feasting
Uplifting and yomping
For their faith in the signs
That has made them
Worthwhile of being for a time being.
Soon the new is to blossom here..
Out of their rights
Inter-group fights
Shalt there be lights
Security at nights
No dry taps
No societal gaps
Yes all these plights
Have bloomed within the nation