Introversion

And here I thought Monday night
Would be deserted from socialising
Creatures, seeking a place of serenity,
A some sort of sanctuary, or an
Uninhabited temple far from
Civilisation, somewhere in the depths
Of endless oceans, or within the
Magnanimous dampened jungles,
Or even on the blazing sand dunes,
Albeit, this particular café had a
One-seated table-for-four in one of
Its corners, the most annoying thing
Was the high-pitched creatures, and
So, the night kept going even when
The longed sanctuary was nowhere
To be found, and lost was I amongst
These socialising extroverted creatures.

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Change the System Not the Climate

Now, you just need to write
It down like you did before,
Something you are angry about,
Something about this world, or
Something you are passionate about,
Something that you want to protect –
No matter what,
Something you want to forever erase –
No matter what,
Write about the voiceless justice,
Or about the cries of rotten rats
That swarm the news headlines,
Billionaires owning what we hear,
What we see, and what we read,
The one percent guiding us,
The ninety-nine, into believing
The benefits of their mastery over
Our voluntary enslavement,
A charitable movement from us,
The ninety-nine, towards them,
The one percent, and indeed,
We allowed our men into war,
Maggots feeding on the sizzling
Dish to be served on golden
Plates and royal cutlery that
Become tomorrow’s headlines,
And we believe in their heroism,
We cheer for their deaths,
And we cheer for their return,
Returning wounded and voiceless,
And if any exposes the buried
Atrocities, then we accept
The system that puts them
On the menu for Today’s Special,
And we vote for the one percent,
For their beautifully carved thrones,
A burden that we choose to carry,
In our name they decree airstrikes
On hospitals, schools, and places
Of worship with cover stories to
Allude us into dancing our feet
Off the ground until we believe
Our transformation into celestial
Creatures; angels that protect
The world from corruption,
From demons in their own lands,
The lands of the ninety-nine,
Resources sucked out dry
As their thrones continue to
Expand in our sacred name,
And as we smoke our air
Into smithereens because
The system is meant to be
Treated that way, we await
A dance ritual from the one
Percent to alleviate our
Suffering, and what we,
The ninety-nine, see are them
False banners about the attempt
For climate change in the next
Few decades, a hopeful bait like
A carrot to a donkey’s journey,
And one day the carrot will
Burn and the donkey will
Run in reverse failing to
Notice the enclosing floods,
And indeed, in our sacred
Name the planet will survive,
The one percent in their jets
Will survive, but never us,
The ninety-nine of us
Will continue to roll a die
Into the inevitable homelessness,
An acceptable collateral damage
Discussed in their board meetings,
So, no need to find a solution
Since there is no problem
In this profit-driven system,
Devised by the one percent;
Meanwhile, we applaud their
Beautifully carved thrones as
They dust us out of history.

Lost My Book

I have burnt all of your books,
The books of celestial creatures,
I have no time to befriend
Angels or demonic beings,
Tell me not how to believe,
And, definitely, show me not
What correct path I should follow,
And dare not hand me
Books of festivities for I have
No faith in humanity, no faith
In writers, no faith in readers,
No faith in myself. My book is
Gone, and with it, I am gone, too.

A Nearing Day

One day that is nearer than
Yesterday – similar to today,
I fascinate my eyes in winter,
Surround the house with birds,
Light few candles and wish
For a moment of a meeting,
A song to be sung by nature,
The naturally organised chaos,
With many may I’s and you may’s,
And my, I’d surely find you
The most gorgeous creature
Alive. Flawless. Holy. In love.

Into the Cave

Let me march alone into this cave,
Hold not, see not, remember not,
Time has ticked anticlockwise,
Reversed into my own abyss,
To me, this world is unnatural,
No longer fit for celestial creatures,
And so, let me into that door;
That darkness! – it will now
Hold me, see me, remember me,
This cave is a mirror – mine – within,
For I have dismissed the reproaching
Universe and all its constellations,
This thing I now call the new birth,
Your thing I now call the old ritual,
So hold not, see not, remember not,
And let me march alone into this cave.