fatigues

Watching me while I walked back
There was only one
Then, turning around
I take a step back and
The thousand guns of empire
Go off
They all ask the same thing
Why you scared.
The patriots of the monsoons
Have dug trenches
And wait in arms
They would rather
The blood stained their shirts
But woe be to passion when
It’s colour is overpowered by
The slime from mud slinging

cosmic relief

I’m guilty myself of
All that I blame you with
And in a way
This story will go like
Revenge of the sith
Six chapters
With all the takes
And retakes that means
A story that has to end
Each time before it begins


When the curtain rises
For the last time
For the cast to take a bow
The leading pair
Is nowhere to be seen
the couple dead
in their last act
had left the building
the critics scoffed
at the timing
of this sequel without a script

In shiny pants
Move legs that
Frequently insist
We time our steps
On stairs and streets

explanation follows

The troughs seem to get wider
Physically this time there is a strait between
And straits ahead period
But thats a different thing
Now the head is swollen and heavy
Lifeless a mast without the sail
Mocked by an annoying weathercock
That with every wind turns its tail


In the bay
There is calm
Out on the shores
There are lights
Under nights blanket
Up creeps the day
Like a snake through the grass
And stings the eyes