An ode to the Anatomy

It is all
in the head,

inside
the cage,

the twists
the turns,

the thoughts
the pressure,

the unending
list,

of desires
and dreams,

an incessant
fire,

constantly
raging,

in a
smokeless kiln,

four holes
drilled,

for intake
and release,

it’s all
in the head,

and the rest
is just,

a perfectly
crafted,

automated
machine.

© vidursahdev 2019

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All Messed Up

‘Affluence’
they say
is what I
seek to have,

‘poverty’
a condition
till its attainment
a success,

while the soul
lives in the
expanse
of this spectrum,

questioning
the relevance
of this
man-made mess.

© vidursahdev 2018

All that I have

Pic : Self

Rebuke me
for my
perspectives,

but that
is all
that I have,

for contrary contradictions
I have
somehow managed to survive,

experiences experienced
in a predictably
short life,

accumulated
to levels
of saturations,

that precipitate
beyond
conditioned notions,

there is
an ensuing battle
I constantly witness,

between
a dictatorially staid logic
and illogical free emotions,

I have often
refused to fight
to ensure the sanity of my mind,

and yet in human frailty
been often dragged
to fight from either ends,

I have yet to win
a battle
that might win me the war,

for neither side
seems a friend
and surely neither is a foe,

and when I myself
can’t make much sense
of it all,

how could I be
anyone
to preach any sense of it to you,

so rebuke me
for my
perspectives,

but that
is all
that I have to share.

© vidursahdev 2018