the inner struggles
have been
not just few
the thinking
is like going to war
and massive
killings along the
way
the mind is a survivor
the body stands still
people see you
like a pillar
the house is strong
and the garden
is simply beautiful
clouds hang on the
roof
air goes in and out
this constant
visitor
the doors are open
here
the windows are
enigmatic
worries are like
urine
flooding the
legs but the mind
is quick
like a diaper
somehow the self is
as elastic
as the rubberized
path like the
one at the gym
one goes back to
the couch
recalls, relates,
a boat waits
to ferry you back
to your throat
and heart
there you spell
the words
perfectly and there
the blood corpuscles
have hands
and you hear them
clapping
well done
wait for the next
journey
outside the
veins
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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