Poem: Rip Van Winkle wakes up again!

I just arrived at my office desk

Time machines everywhere

Numbers dripping blood from everywhere

It is my sweat, sweet sweet and salt salt and saltier blood

that you simply call by the name ‘sweat’

It is a socket to my nervous circuitry

It is a simple sickle in my stomach

Time is dripping away like a bloody whirlpool

You need not be a world bank economist to know

That money circulates in time

How much ever you obfuscate money

How much ever you mystify money

How much ever mask time with data

And use the equations

Time is not money alone

Knowledge is not power alone

There is a world beyond equations

World of inequalities and perturbations

World of irrational imaginations

World of exponential series

World of irregular tropes

World of truncated silhouettes

World of trapezoidal memes

World of memes and nemesis

World of numismatics and bit coins

World of plagiarisms and forgery

World is not a whirlpool alone

It is simply a whirlwind

Can you imagine what will happen?

When Rip Van Winkle wakes up

Only to see that Don Quixote is ruling the roost

And to see the affair between a pelican and an albatross

There are many stories unfolding

In the polynomial times

Time is just a tyrant, in an ocean of solitaires

A Night after the Neurosis

It is a quite Sunday morning
It was a weird outing in the evening

We saw fuming ashes
We saw failed elephants
We heard the tales of fallen petals
We saw drifting continents of love and lust

It was a quite Sunday morning after a tepid Saturday night
I saw many men sulking under the weight of their own dreams
I heard many women lustfully languishing their tongue twisters

They were all eloquent
They were all spellbound
They were castrated

A Carnival in the oddest of the hours
A Caricature of my self and many other selves

Our pulses were travelling to Venus, Mars and Pluto
We were simmering in the heat of the market mongers
We were boiler plates to the typecasted experiments in human nature

Have you heard about Pavlov
Who embarked on an experiment to create machines in human mindset

Have you learned about Vygotsky
Who smiled at the smiling babies and loved their zones of evolution

Have you wept when Maykovsky shot dead himself
His poetry must have been boiling faster than his heart impulses

When I end up embracing the dichotomies of Mikhail Bakhtin
I know I have become a scoundrel, polyglot, a hedonist, pagan beast

When this hetroglossia unfolds and scarlet fevers engulf the nations
Fear of languages, life and all sort of glass house effects will prevail

Do you know the fissures in your palace
Do you know if it is made of marble, mosaic, or even a piece of pitch blend?

Now I know only about primordial stones and shadows
Who build pyramids and prisons in the middle of stone hinged and laggard society
Who are in multitudes, nameless, nation-less, necro-manic living echoes

I live their turquoise blue rings, silver palms, their mythical fear of tortoises
I dig a grave to heal their zest for anarchy, and to unwound their zeitgeist

Poem: A Venomous Silkworm

I despise these degrees of freedom
Said the neo Diderot and the archaic David

I envy the liveliness of the termites
Said the neo Valimiki and the primordial Achilles

How could they embrace a poetic saint in trance
Wondered the venomous Rama and the Venerable Lama

Who saw the torrid life a prince and the princess
Wicked was the Neanderthal Freudian and Digital Darwin

Over and above my sheaths
An albatross is savaged and an ancient mariner is saved

These pearls of wisdom and crowded imaginations
They strike digits and cubits of wealth in times of diarrhea

Astral mathematics, astralopithicus, astronomic gaze
They were the gargantuan invaders of the Gregorian calender

Rest is known to us, first word is born as a worm hole
No one need to be a snake charmer or a sand miner to unravel the lantern under the rooftop

There is a King cobra and a funnel full of flesh and blood

They are changing cloths of sheep and wolves in hermits of suffocating odor

Let me coin a mint in their name

And toast a blood bath in their future dreams to come