He took off his head,
like an old stench ridden...
Just sat on a rock, moss covered
not moving, be it eyes or tongue...
The dew drop enlarges
it shudders...
And so we gather
some tearful, strained convulsions, leaking sorrow...
A thorny red rose
juxtaposes love and pain...
How do you know........the moment is here
Is it the longing, yearning....or the anger when...
Is this real life, as such I ponder
or am I part of a bigger daydream...
It ignored me
carried on with its own monotonous existence...
My religion is the love shared
between me, my wife and children...
My chair has a mass of noodles
that have fell from the pot...
Hells rain catchers pointing skywards,
red and cutting shapes like broken eggshells...
I wonder is a cloud really lonely
when the blue sky is invaded by...