doubts of the scalp
and so i scratch it with my nails.
holes of infection,
itchy life, and
fallen hairs.
the goddess of smell
looks upon me,
and i look up to taste
what smell is it.
it tastes like heaven,
my usual answer.
what is heaven? they all
laugh.
my eyes lift higher
eyelashes are top loaders.
sleep is a conqueror
i am conquered but the surrender
is de-stressing
tomorrow i have a plow
and a buffalo
i own this land i remind
the grasses
tomorrow
i need to vacate, i guess
a trip, a very long long trip
where your sight cannot find me
your trains of emotions are
grounded
i have an avalanche of
forgetfulness.
so? got no word for you
except my well sculpted
goodbye baby, after all,
our worlds are galaxies apart
light years that you must know
by now.
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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