It was a thawing in my side
as entrenched thoughts
seemed to haunt me
every once in a while.
I stuttered at the words
I claimed refuge in the veil
I may have broken a seal,
the french fries were redundant
but they were real –
a lot more real
than your episodes of tantrums
in my ear.
Let’s talk about the silhouette
of your dreams,
masked behind your hair braids –
natural-looking and you told me it was done by your mother, isn’t that right?
Perhaps I should go on a hopeless tirade
followed by a season of our make-ups,
to fix our broken home.
Or maybe let’s be hollow
in our frail hearts
and allow depthless memories inside –
let’s chase the dreamy surrealist paintings
right to the end of your gallery’s mind.
Or, how about we scratch all the above – and delve into the rabbit hole…
maybe the blue pill will itch the horizon
it’ll probably send us into a collision
with the rest of what’s left
of our division.
The reality is true
that it’s necessary to subdue –
the human mind into illusive warps,
concluded by the fake comforts
of angelic harps.
Maybe, if you take this elevator –
and descend into to the basements
of our darkest heavens.
Ignore the symbollic sixes and sevens.
Along the roads and lonely trails
of her all seeing-eyes,
is where we meet with society’s
most beautiful lies.
Pay attention to the exiles
the extroverted and the homeless wiles –
they always have a thing or two to say
But, you can only do so much…
spare a quarter,
nod your head
and be on your way…
Perhaps, the loop holes
are occupied by our roles in life –
things we missed possibly?
Maybe even the great architect
made a flaw in the line.
The floodgates only opened
up some more
Or maybe just enough
for her to slip through –
one can think of her as the sun
basking over the broken city
on a camel’s back
as the Gorillaz once put it.
Maybe, she’s the big sister who may
or may not love you the most
even in the sorrowful of times
like when you flush
your gold fish away.
Vividness occupies your mind by now,
the depths of this rabbit hole
only begin to surge,
when the Big Mac sauces
withdraw their symptoms
from the chemistry imbalance
of your controlled brain.
You are a minion in the system,
I am the millionth in the resistance,
I’m the poet howling into the moonlit bays
and I may come out of the furnace
vaporize my body onto the terrace –
but floods of fluids
the hordes of zombies
at the itch of a horizon –
Zara’s, Channel’s, and Prada’s.
Oh, did I miss a spot?
Maybe it’s just your mind
mindlessly playing games from behind
telling you to fixate the shallow/fake bind
that ties the coorperate circles
into a globalized hind –
only to hook you with their talons
jaw and claw deep into your wallets
telling you it’s probably great
go on and treat yourself
and feel good about yourself
as refreshing doses of dopamines
flood the clarity of your mind
and you can never find the dynamics
even if it’s on a silver plate –
they’ll give you nothing but statics
then relocate you to the next estate.
It’s a viscious circle
but someone has got to
sell their fate in order to keep
the characters consistent
in the formation of this system –
where anomalies will rarely appear
only if your mind is clear
clear of the deception
and the architect’s
most beautiful creation –
the illusion of psuedobenevolence
the lair of lies
resonating in your cognition…
Open your eyes
and try to find me
in the corners
of the darkest allies
in maps marked
by the emblems
of the skull and bones…
But, if I ever stop walking tall,
if my heartbeats ever give out
then I might as well go AWOL,
and by then I am probably
going to have to let
Madonna kiss me in the mouth.