I’m experimenting here. Every alternate line links with the other, i.e. the bold with the bold & the italics with the italics, to form two separate poems in essence. If you’ll read it as such.
Why is it that the moon is the backdrop for romantic interludes
When the sun is the setting for a blazing death
Why is it that a spark aspires to be kindled
When the fire it grows into desires to be doused
As the globe revolves and the orb stands still Continue reading →
Father. Brother. Husband. Son.
Boss. Colleague. Businessman. Friend.
This I am.
A guy who can play the fool.
At times, a complete fool.
Middle aged, greying. Yet childish.
This, too, I am.
Capable of reading anything. Anything.
1) Peace is when things are whole.
Otherwise, it always in pieces.
2) If connecting with the consciousness is absolute heaven,
connecting with the conscience can sometimes be arrant hell.
This phantasmagorical world we live in
Full of wonderment
Sparking the imagination
Captivating the senses
A mirage of moha* and maya^
An experiential delight
The things we do
In pursuit of challenge and achievement
Elusive dreams and obsessive desires Continue reading →
We’re all measured in digits. Adjectival words no longer have any worth, we’ve been reduced to numbers, where a denomination determines your value.
People look at your pay cheque. Your bank balance. Your net worth. The dimensions of your flat. Your pin code. The size of your car. Its engine displacement, top speed, acceleration. The price tag. The size of your waist. Your butt. Biceps. TV. And phone. The number of servants. The number of girlfriends and your “score”. Your children’s marks. Their rank at school. Their IQ (but never your’s). How many MB that flashy gizmo of yours packs. The number of hits your site generates, the number of friends and followers. The karats in that ring. The air miles you clocked last year. The books that are part of your at-home library (“my God, you still read books?”), the number of pages in their on-display coffee table books (which they’ve never read).
And in their mind it all comes down to just two numbers. 1 and 0. So either you’re a numero uno, a 10/10. Or a big, fat zero.
I say: status can perhaps be counted, but can true class be quantified?