Collection of poems penned to explore various themes

states statues statutes

three words a letter difference

yet gives rise to gross ignorance

each littered with complex relations

a web of difficult iterations

the leader of a state commanding statutes

but behaving like a uncaring statue

the bust of a statue giving states

the power to dispel harmful statutes

the language of a statute using statues

to create states forever left askew

guernica

the reduction of man

with brain instructing brawn

giving rise to dehumanisation

creating beasts and all

the conversion of bulls and horses

giving birth to whole other forces

the winnings of war

of brutality and lore

the creation through destruction

distortion and deconstruction

this might simply be

where we cease to even be

hypnosis

language and rhetoric

forced and asymmetric

killed versus dead

rubble instead of beds

the power of words

simply alluding

the hunger of blood

always diluting

murder and mayhem

perpetually consuming

ignorance and expulsion

conversely excluding

but stained with the bloods of the many

and hailed by friends of the plenty

as the murderer and sinner

becomes the victor the winner

the champion the ringer

and all is right in the world

can’t you tell

must you be just blurred

technology innovated

the creation of technology

encapsulating dichotomy

but bear with me

and imagine what it could be

if its rise

could lead to our eyes demise

the digitalisation of arts

replacing frames and destructing crafts

pencils and paintbrushes broken

has it turned to the eyes of the beholden

if we give in to the fake and the artificial

will our perception be ever as crucial and critical

will our vision be ever as radical in style

capturing transgression and blinding eyes

for there’s a difference in being blind and being blinded

would you live like this i’d rather be dead

the powerful play goes on

scrunching papers

withering flowers

blunting pencils

flashing lights

beauty and excellence existing

just a moment away

won’t you come and see the play

the play of life

as Whitman regales

answering himself while dispelling brief troubles

for the letter, the word

the phrase, the sentence

the paragraph, the page

the verse, the sonnet

the script, the book

is simply just a moment away

dada

fleeting memories

words exchanged

eyes made out to be the windows of the soul

but the blur seems to be setting in

holding up a veil preventing me

from seeing into the inside

but ever so often a moment of clarity

beautiful memories

simply jump out towards me

i live for those moments

and the other ones too

oh happy and proud i am to be your grandson

i hope you are of me too

live a life, alive

if we are put on this earth

for no rhyme or no reason

no thought or no provocation

would a life be lost

if we only focus on the cost

so then would it be better to

love hard

cry hard

party hard

work hard

cause if life has no meaning

and we’re all just simple beings

to laugh or to cry

to frown or to smile

might simply be

the pleasure of being alive

myopia

come see the world through my eyes

where cameras capture

unforgettable memories

where eye-wandering ignorances translates to momentous bliss

where screens showcase

wonders of opportunities

the world sometimes moves faster than expected

but my own pace sets up for

my own light and my own space

my own joy and my own frivolity

my eternal youth which admittedly

sometimes might be rather uncouth

but raw unscripted unedited

are the lens through how you could

come see the world through my eyes

from the wooden bench

within every soul exists an artist

be it a brush, a pen, a board, a string

expression is the release of a soul

creating beauty across all the tapestries

enjoy the fruits of their labour

take a large bite and make sure you savour

as an ode and testament

for their ability to change your temperament

creating idols

well-rounded is

a determination, a dream

a fascination, an ideal

experience can teach you only so much

thoughts, feelings, mood teach plenty more

lightness, people, words mean plenty more

do we have more yesterdays

or fewer tomorrows

if we were to read our lives in chapters

and pages were days

would we be at the start of something wonderful and exciting

or feel the lightness on our fingers

with only a few more to go

will the tales be inspirational

full of colour and adventure

or seemingly dull and boring

subjected to skim reading and a desire for its end

or would it end on a cliffhanger

cut short before it’s time

leaving us wishing for more pages

for no sequels can be created

the chapters will come to close

and the book will simply end

gone too soon

you are

the light, the feeling

the sun, the laugh

the moment, the tear

of ones who truly loved

your lightness your darkness

were never fully embraced

oh how could we even

just simply replace

and then in a blink of an eye

our mouths would rather lie

you were just gone

and we were supposed to be fine

you were a part of us and

our souls were supposed to rust

but as the years go by

and the tears subside

i still find fault

in the times that i lied

you were imperfect

as one always is

and you should have had

your true love’s kiss

now your time will never be

fully complete

your time was taken

before it was time to even be

i wish i did more

i wish i said more

but if we’re ever to meet again

i hope you’ll know

you’ll always be my friend

rise in love

falling in love

falling “in” love

a phrase that never sat quite right with me

because how can that even be

love should be boundless

and timeless

like reaching up to the skies

and realising you can share an unforgettable moment

with just someone’s eyes

to fall however

seems the opposite

to be brought down to the lowest of lows

when all she makes me feel

is the highest of highs

ignorance or bliss

a question of two answers

is beauty that of simplicity

or that of complexity

would society be better if it was simpler

would we then have less war and lives lost

would we have more smiles and sunny days

or would we be reduced and repressed

and mere shells of our beings

would we be unable to comprehend

the twists and turns of our lives

for without our complexity

would our intelligence cease to exist

with no creation or advancement

would we be comfortable

in the stifling and suppression

closing thoughts and minds

shutting ideas and lights

for are our natures simple or complex