I Am Cultural

Hold on. Pause. And take a deep breath.
Listen to the red beats of all our lives.
And wait. Be patient. And look outside.
See the yellow dust mixing with shades
Of green palettes awaiting to be stroked
For an enormous canvas. Now breathe.
And live for as long as your white smiles
Take you: over the blue seas or even at
Your own doorstep where you trembled,
Where you suffocated your old inner self,
A shock towards a culture you embraced
As a little child and chose to set it aside,
Let it shock you. Let it shock the very feet
That tried to escape a reality deemed to
Forever follow you innocently for a kiss,
And for a little hug, and request to never
Forget, so go into a huge shock so that
You will be able to return to us normal
For I am all of my past, present, future.

Painting a Portrait

The two-dimensioned dilemma switched sides
To impersonate historical ageless Time where
At one end the black-and-white canvas would
Rotate into a pictorial film and scream aloud
Ancient symbolic letters for peace and justice.

Certainly, this era’s dogma about our truly old
Unpainted portraits revolved around ignoring
The essence of life dismissing the colossal law
Of the starry constellations among our shining
Sun, our glowing Moon, and our celestial souls.

Then the plot thickens after an innocent kid
Picks up brushes and a colour-filled palette
To openly colour its own portrait accidentally
Triggering the reversal movements of Time
As anti-clockwise severely destroys all dreams.

Albeit, the kid grows and learns to unlock
That treasure box and remove the partially
Painted canvas to tear it apart in hope that
One day Time will listen to this kid’s sorrows
Switching back to a one-dimensioned film.