Magic - plenty

April 13, 2012

#16 Magic – plenty

The magic of plenty, too many
voices that overlap a constant.
There’s too much left behind to clean
or maybe there is wisdom in layers.
I never belonged anywhere and
maybe I never will. It’s just anonymity
of expressions, a masquerade of invitees
in the colours of zebra. I remain an
infant of circumstances, shadows grow
darker every sunrise, pulling my boundaries.
Maybe I never will see the exact.

Magic – fading lights

#15 Magic – fading lights

Hurry! Evening’s falling from the sky.
We have to get back to our living,
the home of our words. Branching out
the feelings of the lady towards the
homeless birds in flight. Watch the magic
in feathers falling free, soaking every
drop of black and blue, on her shoulders.
We have to circle the magic once more
as hands wipe time in minutes and we
grow older, older than the hour glass.
Fading lights stay.

Magic – didactic verses

#14 Magic – didactic verses

Extremely didactic, these days,
just like prophets, there goes a preacher
of a system, we are trying to nullify.

Trying harder every day to hold on to
the empire of fallen bricks, more with
every collapse and every shatter. Questions
raised often deleted from mindscapes of
the millions, claiming there’s no magic,
shouting for commonality of goals, striving
for nothingness, the dullness in mediocrity.

Magic – queue

#13 Magic – queue

At the counter, the narrator holds
the queue in perfect bend of light,
as rectilinear as it gets. Tickets for
eternity, tombstones for memories -
sold out.
Balloons of the inevitable, glide past
the links and through the holes towards magic.
Cameras observe the whole, shirt collars
stained with constant narration.
Grip our fear for the queue keeps on
growing, outwitted by the desire
and reasons to live life beyond human.

Magic – beggars

#12 Magic – beggars

Streets of beggars, not by birth
but by choice, dream of eucalyptus
and butterflies in divine moonlight.
Mirrors they refuse as they have lost
their faces, somewhere in the
early pedagogy to a point of no return,
where even chance is better than
troubling the poor brain. The only magic
remains in silver, in currency. The engine
chokes and in the smoke of greed,
notes fly in the direction of those streets.

Magic - dissipation

#11Magic - dissipation

Count the lines among the pertinent,
rest we all are passing phase. Vibrating
through particles, local cloud of energy
dissipated through spoken words, gestures
and sleeplessness. The magic lies elsewhere,
on how we define our positions irrespective
of planets and stars.
Bending our minds, unfolding the verses,
there is an infinite. The days wait in
rehearsal for a minor of the major.

Magic - failure

March 24, 2012

#10 Magic - failure

I twist, I turn, knives all over me,
can’t help, my magic doesn’t work.
To the point where no one bleeds
for there is no flesh anymore, I’m run
over by lunatics. They walk into my eyes,
I try to blink them away, I can’t see.
The trees grow darker, the shadows thicker,
I carry my legs through the mishaps
of an urban life. A sea of umbrellas walking
towards my existence, my magic is not
working, I repeat. A stranger to the emotions.