Eden Garden
the days pass away, glimmer out,
I borrow a book on how to keep
the butterflies made of red bricks
a symbol of modern metropolis
though what do I understand
of land sharks and green crushers
that depends on greed and violence.
embers in the winter sky, everyone
hurrying to cover up distress,
trying to respire in unison
to the rhythm of the road rollers,
to the flying dust, dirt and asphalts,
only I am reading under the blankets,
fall asleep, dreaming of garden of Eden.
Therapy
My mornings fill with birds humming songs of welcome
I derive a part of sensibility from them.
There is a merciless realism all around.
They depict a cynical social order,
mazes of deceit and exploitation.
I want to deliver a really long speech
right when the curtain goes up.
Words come blooming out of me
but I can’t deliver with valid points.
I can’t illustrate any idea with a twirl of the wrist
or slicing the air for prominence.
Late me hire a dialogue coach.
He can tutor me a conversation
in a mode of rich irony with a wicked relish-
How and when society can be better arranged?
I am searching for the answer.
No comments:
Post a Comment