to escape
asphyxiation
i open
a lot of windows
and wear
my self-made
wings
i do not land
i skip skies
drift on clouds
nine to ten
i try burning my
skin with the
sun's terms of
endearment
it will be a whole
day affair
i speak to no one
and no one speaks to me
so many
so many words trickle like rain
in my hair
thoughts wet me all over
like flood on the grasslands
when the day is over
i go back to my room and
lay my self on the floors
wings hang on the ceiling
i repeat this all day
and i am not destroyed
the separation makes me live
loneliness is my bread
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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