on that bed
of evil thoughts
my morning
starts
i grow
and bloom
on such
a delectable
delicacy
butchered on
such a holiday
the gladiator's
oozing blood
flows on the
alleys
of my mind
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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